When I was 18, I got pregnant. I was not living with my family, and I was working at a birth control centre in a university. I was using “protection” and in a good relationship, and I got pregnant. I arranged my own abortion, and my boyfriend supported me. 

As a result of the abortion (besides – you know) killing a child, I got a serious pelvic infection and I was fired. My abortion made my colleagues uncomfortable because it reminded some of them of their abortions, which I wondered about – if abortions were acceptable, why did the memory of them cause distress? 

I moved on, and I now have 3 grown children and a husband of 45 years. I didn’t get depressed, or suffer an addiction, but I know I was distant to my family. There was a hidden part of me that no one got near, including myself. I had returned to my church, and had a prayer life, and one night while praying, I was struck with the realization that I had lost a child, I had never acknowledged the child or even allowed the child to live. I had never held my child or kissed the top of her head. The one person who should have protected him, the one person she should have been safe with, had allowed him to be killed. 

I was filled with shame, regret, and grief, and I felt Mary cry with me. Deep compassion. Mary, who herself had an inconvenient, unplanned pregnancy, cried with me. I can never be sorry enough. 

My child was denied life because I didn’t want to “deal” with it. I suspect that every woman who has had an abortion and not acknowledged a lost child and her part in that child’s death, has a part of her that is closed to herself and others. You all know how good humans can be at ignoring and avoiding the parts of ourselves that are so ugly and so effective in keeping us from truly loving those around us and ourselves. Follow Him – He will lead you to yourself, to acknowledging your lost child, and in seeking forgiveness and wholeness.