I was a very lost and already a single mom of a beautiful little girl. I had moved back to NC and found myself getting back into some old habits, like the same loser men that I knew and thought I deserved. I had no self-esteem, and my baby girl’s dad was a married man, so she was a product of an affair. But I loved her with all I had in me! I didn’t care how she got here, all that mattered was that she was my daughter. The father wanted me to abort her, and I said, “Absolutely not!” Never would I do something so vile!
Well, guess what, two and a half years later, I did. I was lonely, seeking a man for that void, and got pregnant. I couldn’t believe I was pregnant again! What was I supposed to do now? I had no family and very little money to raise my daughter as it was, and he denied being the father. He was a drug addict loser. So here I was, alone and lost. My friends encouraged me to go ahead and have it done. My one friend had had a few abortions, so it was no big deal to her, I thought. So, I made the call to the clinic.
I had to go to my appointment for an ultra sound. I did not want to go and was very adamant that I didn’t know how far long I was. I wasn’t there out of joy but so much sadness. “Well,” she blurted out, “You’re seven weeks and five days.” I was so angry and dying inside but continued with the procedure.
So, I went home, hugged my baby girl, and cried! What was I fixing to do? I was going to kill my baby and that was ok? No, I knew it wasn’t, but I still went.
I remember sitting in a room with a bunch of girls. They were laughing like it was a joke. I took a Xanax for my nerves, but my heart was breaking. I thought, “You all are terrible women!” But I was in the room being one of those terrible women! I went back and got in the stirrups. I was crying. The nurse said to me, “Oh honey, it’s no big deal. I’ve had three.” (I think she might have said a few.) I felt the awful pain of my cervix being dilated, and there was an old metal box with a vacuum hose attached. Oh, they should have just sucked my heart out also. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. All I wanted was to run and hold my baby girl at home, who was waiting for her mom, her baby-killing mother. I stayed a couple hours and a friend drove me home. We didn’t talk much, because all I could do was cry. I was a murderer. I felt that God was going to send me to the pits of hell.
Well, He didn’t, and as years went by, I had another child, two marriages, and a lot of soul searching. I know God has forgiven me, and now it’s time to forgive myself. I will be silent no more in the hopes that a mom doesn’t ever have to feel alone!