Kaleena Barnett

A broken heart restored after abortion

Kaleena Barnett
By Kaleena Barnett

January 11, 2013 (LiveActionNews.org) - I had an abortion.

I was 20 years old and pregnant. Scared. Angry. Confused. I was completely alone.

This is my story.

I was working at a local bar. I was going to college. Living on my own. I met a guy and we were just friends. Having fun. One night we were careless and had sex. A few weeks later, sick as a dog and so not thinking I was pregnant, I went to the school clinic.

“You are pregnant.” I still hear those words over and over again. I passed out. So overwhelmed I went home scared and went to bed for days.

Finally I had to face the day and went to class, but I could not think. What in the world was I going to do? I’m 20. Pregnant. In school. In debt. A waitress. Alone.

A week passed, and I was a wreck and still sick. I went back to the doctor, and they asked me to go speak to someone. A counselor. Ugh. Now I am pregnant and apparently crazy!

I went. I told her my sad sob story, and how I had not slept or eaten in days because I was so sick. She was so sweet. She got me a sprite and crackers, and she held me while I cried. I still remember how gentle she was and how she didn’t judge me or shame me. It felt like motherly concern.

She gave me the names and numbers of several places to call and to explore all options. She never persuaded me one way or another. I knew she couldn’t. I wish she had.

One place – adoption

Another place – a midwife, doctor, gyno

The last – abortion clinic

I went home and cried, and at the time not a “believer,” I asked God to kill me. I believed only that He hated me and was continually cursing my life. I was a nobody to Him. Man, the lies I believed!

The next day, I visited one place that was very pro-life. This place showed me an abortion video the first five minutes I was there. I was still so sick I could not even watch it. I stood up, puked, and went running out.

I went to the school campus and did an amazing amount of research. I look back now, and I am sure it was all wrong info. I went back and forth for weeks on what to do.

I finally made the hardest choice and called my mom. Now, let me tell you, my home life while growing up was not happy. I couldn’t wait to leave, and by calling home, I was expecting the worst.

My mom was very supportive in any choice I wanted to make. I could come home. My dad just said, “Whatever you want to do…but don’t let one night ruin your life, and it’s not really a baby.” I know now he was wrong. But I hung up, still thinking, well, if I do this, I will just go back home. Their reaction was not what I had expected. I will keep the baby and move home.

“Don’t let one night ruin your life” – it rang so loud. I could not make my choice. Confusion came from his words, out of desperation or maybe from fear. Suicidal thoughts were consuming me.

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Somewhere in all this mess, the guy shows up. He is so mad at me and says he can’t be a dad and won’t help…etc., etc.

I am still seeing the counselor, and some days, she just holds me while I cry. I was running out of time. I changed my mind.

So I scheduled the appointment. By now, two friends know. One is super-against it but loves me…but she is mad. One is super-”whatever you want to do, I will love you and be there for you.” Their hearts were added to the long list of hearts I was breaking.

So my super-supportive friend, she took me. We went and had lunch before; she was still trying to stop me, but supportive. We finally went. I don’t remember much. I do remember the heartbeat. I remember the sono. Twins. Pregnant not with one, but with two. Was this the reason I was so sick? Maybe. I remember the pain during and the color pink. All I could see all around was pink. I cried. And cried. And as soon as it was done, I left. I did not wait. My friend carried me out. I went home and cried and was alone. She had to go to work. She left crying. She had tried to stop me after the sono. Why hadn’t I just left? Not just a murder of one, but two.

I threw up all night and drowned my sorrows with every alcohol that was in my tiny apartment. My super-supportive, totally against the abortion friend showed up and just held me. To this day I am grateful for her love in the moment when I needed it most. She knew God, and I believe He used her to come and save me.

Somewhere in all this mess I had to continue school. And work. And try to function. I continued to drink more and just shove all that pain, shame, guilt, grief, and failure deep down. Hating myself. Unforgiving of myself and of many others. I turned ice-cold. My smile gone. Negativity set in.

One day the guy showed up, and things went really bad. He said he would have paid for it. Or if I had just given him more time he would have come around and would have helped. We could have been parents. More time. Trust me, dude, I wish I had more time. I wish I had walked out the day of the sono. I wish I had taken more time to think. I wish I had found a support group, or called my grandmother or some more family. I wish I had had more time.

I went and saw the one safe person I had during that time, my counselor. I cried, and she listened. I felt such shame, and I didn’t know how to go back living life as a murderer. I asked for any type of drugs to make the pain stop! She looked at me, crying herself (first time I had ever even noticed her emotions), and she spoke life over me. I had made a choice. But I didn’t make it lightly like many others she had seen. I had been changed. I was older than my age, and she was so proud of me. I was still going to be a world-changer, and I was going to save lives. We cried and cried until there was a tap at the door. The janitor. I had been in her office for over four hours. I believe that God sent her to me. I never saw her again. I never understood her words in that moment. But now I believe she planted some seeds.

I never could see the guy again without major drama. I had to quit my job and start somewhere new. I had to change my degree. I still couldn’t get rid of the thoughts or memories of these sweet babies I had denied life to. I could change everything about my life and myself, but I was haunted by what choice I made.

I drank. And drank. My relationships in my life got worse. My emotions were even worse. I cried very easily and was a wreck. I had two stuffed animals I had bought in their memory, but even that became so painful. I shoved them in a box along with my broken heart. My sono. My hopes and dreams and desires. My pain.

Somewhere in all that mess, I met a new guy and – you guessed it – got pregnant. Not even two years after the abortion. Before, I told my new boyfriend I made a choice: no matter what, I would have this baby. Or babies. I prayed for two. Two. I needed two.

This time my story ends very differently. The guy and I had this baby. I love him and protect him with everything I have. The guy and I moved, got married, and God redeemed us. God saved us both. This man loves me. Loves his son. He never ran away. His daddy had left his mom when she was pregnant. She had been brave. Why hadn’t I?

I got pregnant again and had a baby girl. I love her and protect her with everything I have. Her daddy didn’t run away. Why did I run away from my first two?

After her birth I was thankful for two. For God trusting me with two lives again. But even then I still carried heavy grief. Heavy chains of shame.

That is when He met me one night. He asked me to finally open that box and deal with my pain. I woke up sick. I dreamed about that choice almost nightly. Those babies had truly never left me. The next day, I looked for the box. The box was gone. No sono. No animals. I thought even worse of myself. How could I have gotten rid of all that! The box is gone, but my brokenness remains. I could never be set free from my choice.

For days I relived my choice. I recalled all the details that for years I could not remember. I once again was a mess. No forgiveness. I had made a choice. I had no choice but to live with it. Bed for days!

So God asked me again to trust Him. It was time to let go. I had no idea how or where to do this. I needed a safe place. That week, at a church, there was an announcement on an abortion class. Rachel’s Freedom. I e-mailed while I was still in the church parking lot. I drove home in fear and pain. That night I told my husband I felt like God wants me to deal with this wound. He was very supportive. I went to bed thinking, God, if you want me to do this class, you better show me a sign.

Middle of the night, I had a dream. I dreamed of the box. The color. The location. The contents. My hubby got up, went to the attic, and the box was there! In the wee hours of the morning, I rejoiced. In the same moment, I realized it was time. Opening the actual box opened up the box in my heart. I wept for hours. How could I have been so stupid? So selfish?

Now, after two kids, I know they are babies from day one! My choice was not right.

I took the class and dealt with my pain. Forgiveness came! Shame left! God showed up and showed where he had been during this painful time in my life. The color pink – yep, that was Him. He was there. He never left. It didn’t happen overnight, but He came to me every night offering love, hope, and forgiveness. Eventually I asked him, and he broke those heavy chains off me!

I received forgiveness and forgave myself. I received a vision of my daughter and son playing in heaven. On a swing. Whole. Healthy. Peaceful. I doubted for a long time this vision. A son. A daughter. But confirmation came with the stuffed animals in the box. A boy and girl stuffed animal. God had never left me.

I am pro-life now. It was my choice. The wrong choice. I will never judge or shame another individual for her choice, but I will speak up for babies who still have a chance. I will speak up to the mommas who still have a chance. I will tell them about my pain and the grief and the shame that came with wrong choice. I will share my story of being restored. I will encourage the mommas. He is the great I am. He is the One who will provide. He is the One who has good plans for us. He is the One who loves us. I will walk alongside others who make that choice and show them to the One who will never forsake them. Show them to the One who will forgive them and break off those chains. I will make sure that no girl ever feels alone or feels like the wrong choice is the only option.

I share my testimony so other precious lives will be saved. That is the best choice I can make from all this.

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Reprinted with permission from LiveActionNews.org

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Sandra Cano, ‘Mary Doe’ of Doe v. Bolton, RIP

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By Ben Johnson
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Sandra Cano, the woman whose divorce custody case morphed into a Supreme Court decision extending the “constitutional right” to an abortion throughout all nine months of pregnacy, has passed away of natural causes.

Cano was “Mary Doe” of Doe v. Bolton, the other case settled by the High Court on January 22, 1973. In 1970, at 22, Cano saw an attorney to divorce her husband – who had a troubled legal history – and regain custody of her children. The Georgia resident was nine weeks pregnant with her fourth child at the time.

Cano said once the attorney from Legal Aid, Margie Pitts Hames, deceptively twisted her desire to stay with her children into a legal crusade that has resulted in 56 million children being aborted.

“I was a trusting person and did not read the papers put in front of me by my lawyer,” Cano said in a sworn affidavit in 2003. “I did not even suspect that the papers related to abortion until one afternoon when my mother and my lawyer told me that my suitcase was packed to go to a hospital, and that they had scheduled an abortion for the next day.”

Cano was so disgusted by the prospect that she fled the state.

Yet the legal case went on, winding up before the Supreme Court the same day as Roe v. Wade. The same 7-2 majority agreed to Roe, which struck down state regulations on abortions before viability, and Doe, which allowed abortions until the moment of birth on the grounds of maternal “health” – a definition so broad that any abortion could be justified.

All the justices except Byron White and future Chief Justice William Rehnquist agreed that “physical, emotional, psychological, familial, and the woman's age” are all “factors [that] may relate to [maternal] health.”

“I was nothing but a symbol in Doe v. Bolton with my experience and circumstances discounted and misrepresented,” Cano said in 2003.

Two years later, she told a Senate subcommittee, “Using my name and life, Doe v. Bolton falsely created the health exception that led to abortion on demand and partial birth abortion... I only sought legal assistance to get a divorce from my husband and to get my children from foster care. I was very vulnerable: poor and pregnant with my fourth child, but abortion never crossed my mind.”

On the 30th anniversary of the case, she asked the Supreme Court justices to revisit the ruling that bears her pseudonym, but they denied her request. “I felt responsible for the experiences to which the mothers and babies were being subjected. In a way, I felt that I was involved in the abortions – that I was somehow responsible for the lives of the children and the horrible experiences of their mothers,” she explained.

By that time, both Cano and Norma McCorvey, Jane Roe of Roe v. Wade, opposed abortion and implored the Supreme Court to overturn the rulings made in their names. Both also said their pro-abortion attorneys had misrepresented or lied about their circumstances to make abortion-on-demand more sympathetic.

"I pledge that as long as I have breath, I will strive to see abortion ended in America,” Cano said in 1997.

Priests for Life announced last week that Cano was in a hospital in the Atlanta area, in critical condition with throat cancer, blood sepsis, and congestive heart failure.

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“My heart is broken that Sandra will never witness an end to abortion,” Janet Morana said. “She never wanted to have an abortion. She never had an abortion, and she certainly never wanted to be a part of the Supreme Court decision, Doe v. Bolton, that opened the gates for legal abortion at any time during pregnancy and for any reason.”

“Sandra’s work to overturn that devastating decision that was based on lies will not end with her death,” Fr. Frank Pavone said. “When life ultimately triumphs over death, Sandra will share in that victory.”

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We don’t kill problems anymore. We kill people, and pretend that it is the same thing.
Jonathon van Maren Jonathon van Maren Follow Jonathon

First we killed our unborn children. Now we’re killing our own parents.

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By Jonathon van Maren

In a culture that elevates transient pleasure as a “value,” while reducing “value” itself to a subjective and utilitarian status, I suppose it should not be surprising that the worth of human beings is now constantly in question.

We once lived in a culture that drafted laws to protect “dependents”: the very young, the very old, and the disabled. This was done in recognition of the fact that a human being’s increased vulnerability correspondingly heightens our moral responsibility to that human being.

Now, however, the exit strategists of the Sexual Revolution are burning the candle at both ends - abortion for children in the womb, euthanasia and “assisted suicide” for the old. Both children and elderly parents, you see, can be costly and time-consuming.

We don’t kill problems anymore. We kill people, and pretend that it is the same thing.

I noted some time ago that the concept of “dying with dignity” is rapidly becoming “killing with impunity,” as our culture finds all sorts of excuses to assist “inconvenient” people in leaving Planet Earth.

There is a similarity to abortion, here, too—our technologically advanced culture is no longer looking for compassionate and ethical solutions to the complex, tragic, and often heartbreaking circumstances. Instead, we offer the solution that Darkness always has: Death. Disability, dependence, difficult life circumstances: a suction aspirator, a lethal injection, a bloody set of forceps. And the “problem,” as it were, is solved.

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We don’t kill problems anymore. We kill people, and pretend that it is the same thing.

There is something chilling about the intimacy of these killings. As Gregg Cunningham noted, “Ours is the first generation that, having demanded the right to kill its children through elective abortion, is now demanding the right to kill its parents through doctor-assisted suicide.” The closest of human relationships are rupturing under the sheer weight of the selfishness and narcissism of the Me Generation.

The great poet Dylan Thomas is famous for urging his dying father to fight on, to keep breathing, to live longer:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Such sentiment is not present among the advocates of euthanasia. In fact, the tagline “dying with dignity” is starting to very much sound like, “Now don’t make a fuss, off with you now.” Consider this story in The Daily Mail from a few days ago:

An elderly husband and wife have announced their plans to die in the world's first 'couple' euthanasia - despite neither of them being terminally ill.

Instead the pair fear loneliness if the other one dies first from natural causes.

Identified only by their first names, Francis, 89, and Anne, 86, they have the support of their three adult children who say they would be unable to care for either parent if they became widowed.

The children have even gone so far as to find a practitioner willing to carry out the double killings on the grounds that the couple's mental anguish constituted the unbearable suffering needed to legally justify euthanasia.

… The couple's daughter has remarked that her parents are talking about their deaths as eagerly as if they were planning a holiday.

John Paul [their son] said the double euthanasia of his parents was the 'best solution'.

'If one of them should die, who would remain would be so sad and totally dependent on us,' he said. 'It would be impossible for us to come here every day, take care of our father or our mother.'

I wonder why no one considers the fact that the reason some elderly parents may experience “mental anguish” is that they have come to the sickening realization that their grown children would rather find an executioner to dispatch them than take on the responsibility of caring for their parents. Imagine the thoughts of a mother realizing that the child she fed and rocked to sleep, played with and sang to, would rather have her killed than care for her: that their relationship really does have a price.

This is why some scenes in the HBO euthanasia documentary How To Die In Oregon are so chilling. In one scene, an elderly father explains to the interviewer why he has procured death drugs that he plans to take in case of severe health problems. “I don’t want to be a burden,” he explains while his adult daughter nods approvingly, “It’s the decent thing to do. For once in my life I’ll do something decent.”

No argument from the daughter.

If we decide in North America to embrace euthanasia and “assisted suicide,” we will not be able to unring this bell. Just as with abortion and other manifestations of the Culture of Death, the Sexual Revolutionaries work hard to use heart-rending and emotional outlier examples to drive us to, once again, legislate from the exception.

But for once, we have to start asking ourselves if we really want to further enable our medical community to kill rather than heal. We have to ask ourselves if the easy option of dispatching “burdensome” people will not impact our incentive to advance in palliative care. And we have to stop simply asking how someone in severe pain might respond to such a legal “service,” and start asking how greedy children watching “their” inheritance going towards taking proper care of their parents.

And to the pro-life movement, those fighting to hold back the forces of the Culture of Death—the words of Dylan Thomas have a message for us, too.

Do not go gentle into that good night…
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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Luka Magnotta http://luka-magnotta.com
Thaddeus Baklinski Thaddeus Baklinski Follow Thaddeus

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Gay porn star admits dismembering ex-lover and molesting his corpse on film

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By Thaddeus Baklinski

Montreal gay porn actor Luka Magnotta admits killing and dismembering his ex-lover and molesting his corpse on film, but pled not guilty on Monday to all five charges filed against him.

Magnotta shocked the world in June 2012 by allegedly killing and cannibalizing a 33-year-old university student from China, Jun Lin, then posting a video of his actions and the results online. He later hid some of the dismembered parts in the garbage, but also mailed parcels containing body parts to political offices in Ottawa and schools in Vancouver.

He was charged with first-degree murder, committing an indignity to a body, publishing obscene material, mailing obscene and indecent material, and criminally harassing Prime Minister Stephen Harper and other MPs.

Magnotta's lawyer Luc Leclair is basing the not guilty plea on the defendant having a history of mental illness, thus making him not criminally responsible.

Crown prosecutor Louis Bouthillier said he intends to prove that Magnotta planned the alleged murder well before it was committed.

"He admits the acts or the conducts underlying the crime for which he is charged. Your task will be to determine whether he committed the five offences with the required state of mind for each offence," Quebec Superior Court Justice Guy Cournoyer instructed the jury, according to media reports.

However, some authorities have pointed out that Magnotta’s behavior follows a newly discernible trend of an out-of-control sexual deviancy fueled by violent pornography.

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Dr. Judith Reisman, an internationally-recognized expert on pornography and sexuality, told LifeSiteNews in 2012 she believes Magnotta’s behavior “reflects years of brain imprinting by pornography.”

“His homosexual cannibalism links sex arousal with shame, hate and sadism,” said Reisman. Although cannibalism is not as common as simple rape, she added, “serial rape, murder, torture of adults and even of children is an inevitable result of our ‘new brains,’ increasingly rewired by our out-of-control sexually exploitive and sadistic mass media and the Internet.”

In their 2010 book “Online Killers,” criminology researchers Christopher Berry-Dee and Steven Morris said research has shown “there are an estimated 10,000 cannibal websites, with millions ... who sit for hours and hours in front of their computer screens, fantasizing about eating someone.” 

This underworld came to light in a shocking case in Germany in 2003, when Armin Meiwes was tried for killing his homosexual lover Bernd Jürgen Brandes, a voluntary fetish victim whom Meiwes picked up through an Internet forum ad seeking “a well-built 18- to 30-year-old to be slaughtered and then consumed.”

After the warrant was issued for his arrest, Magnotta was the target of an international manhunt for several days until he was arrested in Berlin, where police say he was found looking at online pornography alongside news articles about himself at an Internet café.

The trial is expected to continue to mid-November, with several dozen witnesses being called to testify before the jury of six men and eight women.

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