In light of recent events, I’ve decided to share my hardest story to tell.
I remember most details from this day more vividly than any other day in my life.
I remember the car pulling in between a large metal gate, that was lined with people yelling and holding signs that went all the way around the block.
I remember getting out the car and just standing there, paralyzed with fear, but trying not to feel anything.
I remember walking up the sidewalk, and hearing a woman scream that I was a murderer. I stopped walking for a second, before I was prompted to keep moving.
I remember the biracial couple walking in front of me. The man turned around and said, “They aren’t paying to raise your baby, so don’t listen to them. You’re going to be ok”.
I remember thinking that was such an odd thing to say. Raise my “baby”? I thought it wasn’t a baby… I’m going to be ok? That was the first lie I heard that day.
I remember the paperwork. And how the worker who handed it to me never looked me in the eye. In fact, no one looked me in the eye that day.
I remember having to talk to multiple people before the procedure, including a pastor. I remember him telling me that “God understands”. At that point in my life, I didn’t care who understood. What was there to understand? I most certainly wasn’t concerned with some man in the sky and what he thought or understood.
I remember going in to have the ultrasound and I asked the woman if the baby feels it. Her response was, “It’s not a baby, honey.”
Oh. That was the second lie I heard that day.
I remember walking into the procedure room and thinking about how shockingly cold it was.
That is the last thing I remember for a while. It’s a blank hole in my memory. I honestly think that I’ve subconsciously removed it.
I remember laying in my bed that afternoon, and for the first time in the whole situation, I cried.
I can’t remember how many days I cried.
I realized I made a mistake. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t change it.
Someone’s heart wasn’t beating because of me.
I killed someone.
I hate going to the doctor for annual checkups, and they ask: “How many times have you been pregnant?” There’s always a hesitation…
And then awkward silence. Every time.
The reminder. Every time.
There’s so many lies surrounding abortion.
“It isn’t a baby”
“It’s your choice”
“You’re going to be ok”
Satan is the father of lies. God does not make any mistakes. Humans do. Absolutely. But God doesn’t.
Jeremiah 1:5 says, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart…”
“…I knew you…”
God KNEW my baby. He knows ALL of the babies. Every single one who doesn’t make it out of the womb, along with those of us that did.
Unfortunately, it took my abortion to understand that.
It took my abortion to help me understand grace.
It took my abortion to understand that God doesn’t make mistakes.
It took my abortion to become pro life.
It took my abortion to see that it is ALL a lie.
No one told me that 13 years later I would still think about it every single day.
No one told me that 13 years later I would still have nightmares about it.
No one told me that 13 years later I would still feel a gaping hole for my first child.
Abortion changes you. It changes everything.
It breaks you in a way that nothing else on this earth can. It tears into your soul and all you can do is cry out to God for His forgiveness and mercy. For years, I dealt with shame and allowed satan to use this as power over me. Shame to tell anyone, for fear of judgement and ridicule. Shame that could only be removed at the foot of the Cross. The Cross that gave so much, for someone like me.
Thankfully, so thankfully, God forgives. He delivers. He shows new mercies every day.
He has healed the large wounds that came with it. But, during certain seasons of my life it gets difficult again.
I am so thankful that God allowed this to change me, and has given me a voice for the ones who cannot speak for themselves.
“He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the LORD.” Psalm 40:1-3