EMPTY-HANDED, BROKEN-HEARTED NO LONGER!
Young, confused and scared, I was thirteen and fourteen-years-old when I had my abortions. That marked the beginning of my teenage years, and both times I left the abortion clinic empty-handed and broken-hearted.
Sure, I put on the brave face like I was expected to do. I went back to school as if I had had a tooth pulled or an ingrown toenail removed. I went right back to playing my sports and doing my schoolwork. However, from that time on I was never the same. I merely existed as a hollow shell.
The details of my abortions are meaningless now. The pain, the fear, the tears…I remember everything, though I once was numb to it all. The one single truth is that I lost more than my two babies because of abortion, I lost me.
Deep in my heart I ached and screamed because I knew the truth even though I was so young. I knew that there was life that should have been here and was not. Whether I was pressured into it or not is insignificant now because there was no one that carried the unsatisfied aching in their soul, but me.
When I was sixteen, I had a strong desire to replace what I had lost and I was determined to be pregnant again. I vowed that this pregnancy would not end like the others. In no time, I found myself right back in the same position that was so familiar, the same pressure, threats, and jeers. Finally, I caved. I couldn’t take it anymore and I agreed to end the pregnancy, but that is not what happened.
God worked a miracle in my life before I knew Him. He saved that child as if saying, “Enough!” My son is now sixteen-years-old and is here with me. God saved us both.
Healing was nowhere near instant. I suffered anxiety attacks for years. They were mild at first, but over time I was literally incapacitated by them. Even though I had a wonderful husband, four beautiful children, and was a Christian, I could not shake the attacks. I deeply loved the Lord, but I didn’t understand what was happening. Finally, I realized that God was sifting through the layers of my pain. He held me securely as He went into the crevices and the deep places where I did not even know there was pain to bring each hurt ever so tenderly to the surface. I realize now abortion cuts to the depths of a woman’s heart.
Six years ago the Lord brought me to an unexpected place in my life. I stood at a memorial for unborn babies in a well manicured cemetery amongst tall trees and headstones. The dew glistened on the grass in the morning sun. The vast lawn was brilliant green and gently flowed over the hills as far as the eye could see. We carefully tiptoed through the grass as sprinkles of the morning dew wet our feet. Though worlds apart and virtual strangers, we had similar bonds that brought us to this solemn place.
The overcast clouds threatened a shower, however, that was not enough to deter God’s mission for freedom.
Not knowing what to expect I was engulfed by fear with each step, yet I trudged on with a small trust God would not let me be overtaken. Although, I would be a liar if I proclaimed that I did not wonder if I was standing on the edge of certain doom.
My friend, Jennifer, stood beside me when we got to the special place and I was overwhelmed with emotion. The tears flowed from my eyes; I could hardly even see the inscription on the slab right in front of me.
God had brought me to this place. As I stood there I struggled with whether to run or finally surrender the two babies that I aborted. Although I had long been forgiven I knew I had not completely let go. I wrestled deep in my heart. Finally after a few prayers, I sang a song because that is all I had to give. As I was singing, the clouds broke open and a cleansing rain poured down on us. It was cold and steady, yet I welcomed it.
Clutching one pink balloon in my left hand for Heather Ashley and one light blue balloon for David Evan in right, I walked off to my own solitary place to let them go. But I could not do it. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt the muscles in my unwilling right hand release. I tried grasping for it, but it was out of my hands.
Higher and higher it climbed into the distance. A peace flooded my soul because it was then I knew that it was okay. I let the pink balloon go to follow the other one. Off they went, beyond the distant green and blue of the scenery until they were out of site. A load had been lifted from deep inside of me as I realized that I had finally let go of my babies and given them to God.
July of 1999 is the anniversary of my freedom. I praise God continually for loving me that much and ask Him to not give up on me.