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A Blessing Denied
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Anna
Virginia,
United States
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23 years ago, I aborted my baby. I knew it was wrong with every fiber of my being. I was 17 years old, a senior in high school and already a teenage mother; my oldest daughter was one year old at the time. I regret every single day what I did to my baby and wish every day I could take it back, but I cannot.
Unlike some I grew up in a Christian home, raised to know better, yet, I did it anyway; I was afraid. I was afraid of the reaction of my family and friends for putting myself in this predicament once again. I was afraid of my child’s father because when I was pregnant with my first child he became abusive. He was adamant about not having the baby; he drove me to the clinic and paid for everything. Why didn’t I just say no?! Why was this even an option or what some say is a choice?! I remember feeling alone; I just wanted him to say everything would be fine if I kept the baby.
Everything about that day seems like a blur, but I remember the exact location, the room, the sound of that awful machine that sucked my baby away and the silence I endured within afterwards because I felt I had no one to turn to. I felt so empty and sad, left to deal with my own self-torture.
I did not care about being promiscuous after I broke off our relationship, I did not care about drinking until I could not remember anything, most days I did not care about living…I was pretty much willing to try anything once because in my mind I simply did not matter. I brought that self-torture into my marriage and had a hard time believing that God still loved me enough to bless me with a wonderful husband and more children. I almost managed to mess that up as well because I didn’t love myself, so how could I possibly truly love others. The shockwaves of murdering my own child is real because I allowed it to affect the ones I love most without them knowing the possible root cause until now. I did it as a teenager, and it has carried its weight well into my adulthood. I tried forgiving myself for years, but I could not let it go.
In March of 2014, I received the healing I refused for so long by attending a Rachel’s Vineyard Retreat. I remember thinking during that retreat, how can I remain silent? Maybe by me telling the truth of my shame, I can help heal someone else’s pain by letting them know about my baby, my faults, and the Power in the Blood of Jesus.
Today I share openly and honestly about my daughter, who I named Jesse Grace. It is not easy because I hate what I did to her. If I could have only been stronger back then, she would be here now. I am sure any anger and sadness that may have occurred would have subsided by now because it has been 23 years! I permanently fixed a perceived problematic situation, which in actuality Jesse is a blessing I denied and gift I did not receive. I function because I know she resides in My Father’s loving arms and I have the Hope in my heart that eagerly waits for the day I finally get to meet her and hold her myself. Therefore, until that day I will always be Silent No More in Jesse’s honor.
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