The following story was submitted to us via email by Julia. She is grateful for the chance to share her story and hopes that she will be able to reach other women.
Two dates are forever ingrained in my heart—the day my baby was supposed to be born and the day I chose to take her life. As each year passes, those dates pull me back to the last five years blurred with tears and plagued with confusion.
I never knew how vivid memories could feel, how they could keep you stuck in a void filled with pain. I can still remember the joy in my boyfriends voice when he said, “I’m going to be a Dad?” I can still hear the songs we planned to sing to our baby, the places we were planning on living, and how we encouraged each other by saying that we would make it work even if it was going to be tough.
I can still feel the burning shame when my happiness was crushed after telling my family the news. I waited three months to tell them I was pregnant, anticipating their doubts but not prepared for my weakness to follow their reactions.
My body still clenches when I remember their comments—“I already resent your child,” “You are throwing your life away,” and “Are you sure you don’t want an abortion?”
I remember going to bed confused and hurt and then, suddenly, completely numb. I soon returned home to be with my parents and to seek an abortion. I remember my boyfriend yelling across the airport, begging me not to go through with it. His cries for help echoed off the walls of the airport.
I remember the detachment in my heart, numb to the core, sitting in the doctor’s office. I remember telling him I wasn’t sure I was ready to be a mother. If I close my eyes, I can feel him performing the exam, then telling me that I was three months along.
I can feel my face go blank as the doctor declared that I “wasn’t raised to be like this,” and he would help “take care of things” since he knew my family. I can hear the haunting squeak as he turned the ultrasound screen away from me while saying, “You don’t need to look at this.”
And I can still feel the coldness penetrating my bones and heart the next day as my own mother drove me to the “procedure.”
And that was it.
The drugs took over, but I vaguely remember waking up for a moment as a nurse was rubbing my shoulders and saying, “Everything is going to be okay.”
And then, blackness. A black so dark that it’s taken five years for me to finally surface into the Light.
Never once was I warned that I would have an increased chance of breast cancer because abortion disrupts the natural hormonal development during pregnancy.
Never once was I told that many women experience emotional distress after an abortion—a depression that can last for years and possibly the rest of their lives.
I never was informed that my hormones would be on a rollercoaster ride for so long after an abortion, leaving me to abandon all relationships and lay in bed for weeks at a time.
Nobody told me that every month during my cycle I would be reminded of the life that I took, that my womb was violated with cold pliers and a vacuum, and that these things made me more susceptible to uterine disease and uterine cancer.
I never heard the doctor, my family or my friends talk about the pain my boyfriend would go through. I only heard women blame men as the reason they felt pressured to choose abortion. I never considered that my boyfriend’s voice mattered too. That it wasn’t just “my body my choice.” That maybe he should have a say in what happens to the being that we created together.
These are the things I have only now learned. These are the things I wish I knew before making a choice I can never take back.
After years of trying to understand why abortion has become the accessible option it is now, I could share countless stories of women and men who have opened up to me about the abortions in their past and how its impacted them throughout their lives.
I could spend my entire life interviewing every woman whose secret is buried so deep down inside that she may never tell anyone again, including her husband and closest friends. She may never truly find healing from a wound so raw with regret, but must go on living as if it never happened—floating through life shackled to chains of grief and stifled with tears hidden behind doors.
I’ve also looked in the the eyes of women on the other end of the spectrum as they proclaim, in a loud voice, that they are proud of what they did—that it’s a woman’s right to have access to abortion. They confidently tell me these things, but the displaced anger and pain peering back at me doesn’t lie. I can’t judge them as they attempt to convince themselves they did the right thing in desperation to quell any feelings of regret.
Because by truly facing what abortion is, many women would be living with a void that is so unbearable to face alone, spending years clouded by depression and without the ability to make strong decisions following that one fateful decision.
And then there are the men.
I wish I could hug every man out there that was left without a voice, completely stripped of his fatherly duties, without a say in his own child’s life. I wish I could hug the men that have endured years of agony and substance abuse, grasping at anything to drown the pain that abortion has caused in their lives.
After listening to these shared stories over and over again, I now feel so strongly that abortion is not a solution, but rather a dangerous choice that avoids responsibly and has lasting, damaging consequences.
I could also write an entire book on the series of lessons in forgiveness, self-love, and redemption I’ve learned as God refuses to give up on me and all of us walking this journey together.
The word that resonates in my heart every morning is redemption.
When you take a look at exactly what abortion is, ending the heartbeat of a fetus, then there is no denying that I committed a sin. I took the life of my child, and in any other context, intentionally taking a life will land you in jail. Instead, countless post-abortive women carry the burden that keeps them imprisoned by their pain, the void that follows, and the confusion that lingers.
However, through it all, there is also the everlasting chance to turn to Christ for healing.
Redemption is where this story begins to shift from darkness to light. For anyone struggling after an abortion, there is hope in Christ and the salvation of the soul that will flow from his Love.
It may not seem apparent from where you are now, but just crack open a Bible, start reading, and see what happens. Looking back from where I sit now, I am blown away that Jesus was always there beside me, carrying me when I was too weak to carry on myself. While I was so busy judging myself for my own actions, Jesus was right beside me whispering gentle words of forgiveness in my ear.
There aren’t enough minutes in the day to type out the ways in which Jesus has blessed my life and heart throughout the years, even when I did not feel worthy. He was always there, holding me up while I denied his presence, waiting patiently until I was ready to turn to Him. For that, I am eternally grateful.
This new path I’m walking on is lighter, and although I think about my baby everyday and know I can never take back the decision of an abortion, I know that everyday is a chance to serve God and do right.
By the grace of God, the father of my child has forgiven me, even after the agony he has suffered without his baby. By the grace of God, we have come together and built a wellness business that brings healing to our patients as well as the message of Christ. By the grace of God, I’ve begun to take on work as a Doula with the goal to become a Midwife.
And again, by the grace of God, I realize I can move forward confidently by leaning on Christ.
To anyone out there suffering after abortion or wishing to reconcile the past, there is support out there. You are worthy and you are not alone. Jesus loves you and is there for you when you are ready.
Do you have a story to share? Email mystory@savethestorks.com.
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