It's been 35 years since my baby was aborted and I still think about it every day. It wasn't a quick fix and it wasn't a solution to my pregnancy. It was a panicked response to our fears. It was a spiritual battle for my virtues, my heart, my mind, and my future. It separated me and my mom from each other, and it separated us both from God for a very long time.
I was only 12-years old when I had the abortion and it has always been my deepest pain and greatest regret, yet I kept it a secret for all these years and had no intentions of telling anyone, ever. Most definitely not the truth about my age. The shame and pride had become equally deceitful, yet very effective at silencing me and masking my true identity over the years. The older I got though, the more I began to consider my legacy and after a long period of seeking God's will for my future, He stirred my heart about it and brought it to the surface and into the light. I was 46-years old then and the thought of talking about that experience from so long ago was terrifying at first, but now I am grateful that He loved me too much to let me leave it in the dark.
Before I found healing there were very few nights that it didn't haunt me and very few days that I didn't have an unhealthy fear that something would happen to my only living child. There were few seasons that I didn't punish myself in some unhealthy or destructive way, but I didn't understand why that was, at least not until I found the road to freedom. When I made the turn back towards Jesus, I learned that we are all born into a world at war, a war that we can't see. (Eph. 6:12) I learned that I had an age-old enemy that knew what he was doing, and he was succeeding at neutralizing almost every victory that God gave me. He was good at keeping me in a constant state of confusion with his lies.
The choice to abort my baby was a choice to not trust God and it forced me into a battle with darkness that I didn't think would ever end. Because of that, I can't help but believe with all my heart, mind and soul, that there is nothing worse for your heart and for your relationship with God than participating in and witnessing the destruction of your own child. Still, I tried to rationalize it from every angle trying to find a legitimate reason, but I couldn't find a single one. Others have recently even said, “you were 12, you guys didn't really have a choice, it wasn't your fault.” This isn't truth. I had a choice. My mom had a choice. We made our choice and we were wrong.
Yes- it would have been hard. It would have been inconvenient. It would have been embarrassing to my family and it would have been a sacrifice. But it's what Jesus would have wanted us to do.
Knowing what I know now, I know that adoption would have been the only loving thing we could have done for my baby at that time. No one told us that adoption was an option or that people were waiting years to adopt babies though. Without any support we weren't strong enough or informed enough to know how to go about it, or where to even begin and the consequence of that is living with the memory of my first child being sacrificed on the altar of convenience. It's just as painful to say, so was my first and only grandchild. Abortion was a generational curse on my family and with his permission, I will share some of my son's experience and consequences from participating in an abortion also.
I want you to know that at the very beginning of this journey I was willing to share anything from my past to help others with, except the abortion. There were plenty of other injustices to bring awareness to, I didn't raise my hand for this. It was an invitation from God. He gave me the humility and planted the desire in my heart to use my voice and my testimony about abortion to join Him in His mission to save babies, and to help other post-abortive women find healing.