Will I Cry Tomorrow? Healing Post-Abortion Trauma (Old Tappan, N.J.: Fleming H. Revell Company, c. 1986), by Susan Stanford-Rue, is a moving personal story. Reared in Montreal, the daughter of a medical doctor, educated in Catholic schools, including an undergraduate degree from Loyola College of Montreal and a master's in counseling from Boston College, Susan never expected to face the issue, but she did. In part, it all began when the lawyer she married found money and career more interesting than his wife; he didn't want children, at least early in the marriage. As he said, "I just want our kids--and you--to have anything you want. Let's wait until I have my own company. Things will be much more comfortable for us then" (p. 44). So, with time on her hands, hungry for purposeful activity, Susan enrolled in a graduate program in psychology at Northwestern University. Her husband disapproved of her career goals, but she persevered, trying to find in the academic world some of the affirmation and usefulness which she'd not found at home. She did well in her studies and received a Ph.D. in Counseling Psychology, only to be invited to stay on at Northwestern as an instructor! From her husband, however, she received no affirmation or support, and they separated (temporararily she hoped) for a period. It was, perhaps, understandable when she sought warmth and companionship elsewhere, and a brief week-end affair left her pregnant. She knew she couldn't bring another man's baby into the world and maintain her marriage! So she refused "to think of the 'thing' growing inside my body as a baby." When tempted to envision a tiny person, she "slammed the lid down in my thoughts and feelings" and insisted it was only a "clump of cells. That's all it was. Tissue" (p. 66).Read more ›
This book does a wonderful job of walking the reader through the painful decision of abortion, and the aftermath. I would highly recommend this book to anyone who has lived their own story of abortion. Stanford does a great job of showing that there is real hope on the other side of this silent burden.