Working Toward Forgiveness

I had an abortion because I was terrified. I had just transferred to a new location for my job. I was high risk because of a LEEP procedure I had in the past, so I had to leave work often for appointments. My managers were growing frustrated with the amount of time I needed to take off. I started to get concerned that I would lose my job because of the time I needed off. I learned that I had not been with the company long enough to have any vacation time to use for maternity leave. I was already a single mom struggling to make ends meet. On top of all of that, the relationship I had just gotten in was brand new. We started dating directly after I got out of a long-term relationship. We were together for barely two months when I found out I was pregnant. I was worried I would end up being a single mom to two kids and worried I wouldn’t be able to support them. I was also ashamed that I did it again. I got pregnant out of wedlock and was going to have two kids from two different men. Regrettably, I decided the only solution was an abortion. 

I looked up where I could go and made the appointment. My best friend agreed to take me. I had to borrow money to have it done. I told my now husband my plans, and he stayed silent. He saw how depressed I was and was scared to tell me not to do it. I lied to my job, told them I had a miscarriage, and that I needed the day off to go to the doctor. My friend and I went to the clinic in the early afternoon. I was greeted with a smile. They were all kind. They assured me everything was going to be ok, and they do this all the time. They took me back to the room and explained the procedure. They did a sonogram and offered me a picture. I declined. I couldn’t look at it. I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I ignored that gut feeling and selfishly went ahead. 

Immediately after, I felt a slight sense of relief, but that didn’t last long. It wasn’t long after that I felt the deepest regret I’ve ever felt in my life. I lied to my family and friends and told them I had a miscarriage. By the end of the day, the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. How could I think that I couldn’t do this? I had my daughter at 19, and I was doing it. I was being the best mom I could be, so why did I let myself believe I couldn’t do it again? The pit in my stomach was awful. I remember sitting in my boyfriend’s, now husband’s, car crying for over an hour, apologizing, saying I just wanted my baby back. My baby, our baby didn’t deserve that. I made the decision to have sex, I knew what could happen. I should have taken on the responsibility of my actions. I shouldn’t have murdered my child. 

I started to become angry and depressed. I decided I didn’t deserve this man or his forgiveness, and I started to push him away. I started having suicidal thoughts. I laid in bed all day thinking of ways to kill myself. I kept thinking my daughter, my now husband, and this world would be better without me. He stood by my side, and I finally admitted I needed help. This pain was too much to handle on my own. I checked myself into a psychiatric hospital. From there I got on medicine and attended group therapy. I finally told my parents what I had done. It hurt them so bad. My husband’s family found out, and it hurt them badly as well. 

I have found help through counseling, through going to confession, and countless days and nights of prayer. I know God has forgiven me, He even blessed me with a baby boy who is now two-years-old.