At 15 years old I was a smart girl, excelling in most of my classes and pursuing art and drama.  I was dating a boy, Eric, and we believed we were in love.  After being together for several months we slept together, and I quickly found myself pregnant.  I honestly had no idea I was pregnant - my step mother figured it out first and called a meeting with both families.  The decision was made at our kitchen table.  During this time I asked to be sent to a home for unwed girls that I had found in a different town, and my boyfriend asked that we get married.  Neither parents would budge, and the decision was made.  

On the day of my appointment my step mother drove me to Manchester, NH a slight drive from where we lived in Nashua.  We were brought into a brownstone office building that had no patient waiting room and sparse furnishings. It didn’t feel like a doctor’s office at all.  I was brought into a small room with a hospital bed. My step mother came with me and held my hand.  After the extraction process I wept bitterly and fell into deep depression for several weeks.  About a month after my abortion my step mother announced her pregnancy with my younger sister.  At this point I was beyond numb from the pain and depression and began drinking and spending time with any boy who would spend time with me. 

At 18 I had been kicked out of my home after barely graduating. I moved into my boyfriend’s parents’ home, and we quickly found a place to live together.  We had only been together for a month, and I had no idea what kind of person he truly was. I realized quickly he was very controlling and abusive. I found myself pregnant again, and he insisted I get an abortion locally.  Of my three, this is the abortion I have the least amount of memory with.  I remember it was an extraction abortion. I also remember I couldn’t take time to recover, as I had to return to work the following day, otherwise my boyfriend was going to kick me out. 

At 21 I was once again pregnant with a child and made an appointment in Richmond VA at an abortion clinic—however, when I went in I was 13 weeks along, and they told me they could still perform the procedure, but it would have to be at the hospital a few blocks away. When we left I begged my boyfriend to let me keep my baby. He relented, and we had a beautiful girl.  

A year later I found myself pregnant again and this time the father was very clear—it was either him or the baby.  I choose him.  The clinic I had the abortion at was the most professional and had some very kind workers.  I remember clearly after the abortion being brought into a room with many cots and women all laying out “recovering” from their procedures.  I felt like cattle laying on the cot with these other women, most of us crying quietly. 

Several years later I was no longer with my daughter’s father. I was a single mother struggling day to day and was invited to church by a neighbor.  While there I heard of the Father’s love for the first time and later surrendered my life to the Lord.  The woman that discipled me was an adoptive mom who fought for the rights of unborn babies.  I’ll never forget the time I told her about my three babies, and she told me about God’s forgiveness. That began my healing process.  My life was in shambles, but I am so grateful I received healing.