I grew up in a loving, Christian home.  I always had a strong love for children—babysitting and helping in the church nursery—and I knew I wanted to be married, have a family and be a mom.  Church was a big part of my life as far back as I can remember, and in 4th grade I responded to an altar call, prayed to receive Christ and was baptized.  

I belonged to a small Baptist church and because my mom was the secretary, my family was always close to the pastor’s and their families.  When I started high school, I hoped to begin dating someone right away but my “love life” was far from active.  I dated someone for 2 months my freshman year and didn’t date again until my senior year.  That’s not to say I wasn’t interested in anyone because I was. They just weren’t interested in me. On the outside I seemed pretty well adjusted—involved in church and school activities, getting good grades, etc.  But on the inside, I was insecure, very much a follower not a leader and more than anything, I wanted people to like me.

During my sophomore year a new youth pastor was hired at the church. He was married, had a baby and was 9 years older than me.  Because they had no family in the area, my family befriended them, and I began babysitting for them. Over the course of several months, he began paying special attention to me—complimenting me on my appearance and confiding in me about personal things from his life, especially the problems he was having with his marriage. Having him trust me this way made me feel special and mature and I considered us to be good friends. He ended up sexually abusing me and one day I found out I was pregnant.

I was nervous about telling him, but he always said he would take care of me if anything happened. When I told him, the first thing he said was “what are you going to do about it?”  Then he immediately suggested abortion. I honestly didn’t know abortion was legal and said I didn’t think I could do it. Abortion was not talked about at home or in church, but somehow, I knew this was a life inside me and I knew it was wrong. I offered to stay with relatives in another state, not name him as the father and place the baby for adoption.  He said no way. The suggestion turned to pressure and the pressure turned to threats. Ultimately, he threatened to kill himself if I didn’t have the abortion and he asked me if I wanted to be responsible for his son growing up without his father. 

In my mind, I had to choose between 2 lives and the abortion seemed to be what would have the least impact on the fewest number of people. I didn’t actually make a conscious decision that abortion was the right thing to do in this situation. I just stopped arguing with him about it and let him make the decisions.

He took me to Planned Parenthood for a pregnancy test, they asked if I knew what I wanted to do. I said I was thinking about having an abortion and they gave me a list of clinics to call. In February 1984, he picked me up from school and took me to the clinic. There were a few people in the waiting area. Everyone was quiet and looked sad. When my name was called, he left. I went in the back and was told I would need to talk to a counselor. I was so hoping I would be given another alternative. Instead, I was told: don’t have intercourse, use tampons or douche for 2 weeks and I was given some condoms and told not to let this happen again. I received no information on fetal development, the risks of the procedure and no information on any other alternatives available to me. I was brought into the room and my feet were strapped into the stirrups. 

I was given a local anesthetic and while it wasn’t really painful, I did feel pressure. At one point I turned my head and looked past the doctor.  I could see a clear container and as the suction started, I saw the container begin to fill with blood.  At that moment I knew I was making the worst mistake of my life, but it was too late to change my mind. I started to cry but regained control because I knew if I let myself go there, I wouldn’t be able to stop.  It was over in about 10 minutes. Afterwards there were about 10 of us in the recovery room all laying on army-type cots lined up against the walls. We stayed there for about an hour at which time we were all given our bottle of antibiotics and sent on our way. I walked out of the clinic that day completely numb knowing a part of me died along with my baby. No one knew this was going on, I certainly couldn’t let anyone know about it now, so I just pushed it all inside. This “relationship” continued for another 9 months until he moved out of state. About a year later I began dating someone from church and we were married in 1987.

I had been studying nursing in college but changed my major to Social Work. reasoning that if I became a social worker, worked with unwed mothers, and saved enough babies it would make up for what I had done. My last year of college I began binging on food and initially tried to purge, but when that didn’t work, I resigned myself to the fact the binging was going to result in weight gain. This behavior continued for several years. My husband wasn’t all that interested in having children and I believed I didn’t deserve to be a mother, so I didn’t push the issue with him. We quit going to church a few years after getting married we started hanging out at the bars. We both began abusing alcohol and this became our lifestyle for several years.

I withdrew from my family, especially when my sister became pregnant with her first child. I just didn’t want to be around young children, especially babies.  We moved to Tucson and I became more and more depressed and my marriage got worse. I thought about the abortion often, and the depression was worse every February (when I had the abortion) and every September (when my baby should have been born). There were many people we hung out with at the bars, but I had no one I could say was a good friend. I was completely isolated.

In September 2004 I was suicidal. I knew my husband and I were headed for divorce, but I didn’t believe my life would be any better regardless of what happened. I believed things were the way they were because it was what I deserved. I was in my kitchen with a knife against my wrist wondering how much it would hurt and how long it would take to die. I started to pray and asked God if it was possible to be healed from this. I said if it wasn’t, I didn’t want to live anymore.

I was already working with a Christian counselor because of the marriage problems and at my next appointment, I told him everything about what happened with the youth pastor, the pregnancy and the abortion. The next several months were truly the most difficult and the most liberating months of my life. The grief and anguish that came pouring out as I mourned the loss of my only child was overwhelming and cleansing. I quit drinking, God brought me into a wonderful church and brought several very special people into my life who were willing to support me as I worked to make some sense out of the mess my life had become. God slowly and gently brought to the surface all the pain and helped me deal with things piece by piece. I was able to acknowledge that even though I don’t have any children here with me, I do have a child waiting for me in heaven and being able to accept BJ into my life has been one of the greatest gifts I’ve been given. I was divorced 3 weeks before my 18th anniversary. In 2007 I told my family about everything and my relationship with them was restored. Unfortunately, my dad passed away before I had the chance to explain things to him.

In 2005, I went through a “Forgiven and Set Free” Bible study at my local CPC and then I began volunteering with them. I joined the staff there in 2006 and I began facilitating the after abortion Bible studies, among other things. In 2009. I went back to school and earned a dual Masters in Professional Counseling and Addictions Counseling. I am still on staff at Hands of Hope living out my God given passion of helping women and men find healing for their abortion wounded hearts.  

All those years of guilt and shame were nailed to the cross and I know I can speak openly about my past and be at peace with my past because of what Christ did for me. I still feel sad at times, but this is normal when a parent loses a child. And that’s exactly what abortion is. The loss of a child. It is my continual prayer that as I speak out about my experience with abortion, that God will use this to change hearts and minds. And it is my deep desire that others who have been impacted and hurt by abortion can find the healing that I’ve found. A healing that can only come from God. 

Genesis 50:20—“You meant it for evil but God used it for good so that by this many shall be saved”.