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I have a confession to make.

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Actually, I had a confession to make. But it’s taken me a quarter of a century to get on my knees in front of a priest at my local Roman Catholic church.

You see, I had an abortion, actually two. One as a university student, a second in my late 20s.

I’ve thought about confession many, many times. Even more so now that my mom, who would rather die than face my mortal sins, has, in fact, been dead seven years.

I have, yes, felt guilt about committing what the religion my mother practised so faithfully considers murder — worthy of excommunication and eternal damnation. It’s the shadow that follows me. And it manifests in so many ways: perfectionism, hyper-criticism, bouts of low self-esteem.

I have wrestled equally with admitting my sins. There may be no place in heaven for me, without confession. But how could I be viewed a good person here on Earth if I share them?

I fear being judged; I’m equally tired of judging myself.

But this fall, Pope Francis announced the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy. He decreed that, starting this week until Nov. 20, 2016, all priests would have the power to absolve penitents of the sin of abortion.

And so I returned to church. The same church — my church — where I spent virtually every Sunday morning until I left home for university.