Just As It Was Chosen For You...

It is time to speak of something difficult—something many still call taboo. In these days when nearly everything is politicized, abortion remains one of those conversations people instinctively silence. Shame, guilt, fear, or anger rise within and cause them to turn away. But I will no longer remain silent.

Shame kills. It silences and destroys. Keeping the truth hidden only strengthens darkness’s deathly grip on the soul. I speak plainly and bluntly because I have walked this valley myself. I have laid my pain, my choices, and my brokenness before the Father. I have wrestled with my decisions and I have met Him in the secret place, and now I walk with greater clarity, understanding, and authority.

In this hour, as abortion laws expand even to the point of birth, I feel compelled to speak. No woman should make this decision without understanding the living hell she is stepping into. If you have had an abortion or participated in one in any way, hear me now: shake off that shame and guilt.

I was in my twenties when I had two abortions. I was drowning in pain and darkness, barely able to breathe. I was dating and having sex when I had no business doing so, without understanding the sacred weight of its consequences. The first came right after I started my first business. I was pregnant by a man who was emotionally lazy and irresponsible, with no intention of being a father or helping financially. I was already caring for my three-year-old son and suffering terribly from hyper-emesis. I could barely get out of bed to care for myself or him. My new business was slipping away. Lost and unable to trust God or anyone else, I made the appointment. Two days later, I was no longer pregnant. Though I knew what I had done was wrong, I cloaked it in the world’s excuses—“my body, my choice.” Those words offered no comfort afterward. Neither did the voices cheering me on. I already believed God hated me, so I thought this act could only deepen His hatred. The moment that still pierces me is telling my excited little boy that the baby had gone to Heaven—and hearing his sweet heart break as he cried. The shame I carried afterward stayed with me. In time, I numbed it with drugs.

Two years later, I found myself in an even darker pit. I had fallen down a flight of stairs and suffered a major injury. My once-strong body could no longer perform as it always had. My business was collapsing. Depression consumed me, and pain pills blurred my days. Bitter and angry, I sought solace in the arms of a man instead of the arms of The Father. I heard The Father’s voice warning me not to see this man, but pride and rebellion ruled me. I even wished for pregnancy, believing it would somehow heal the brokenness and make us fall in love. How deeply deceived I was. He came from a patriarchal culture where the man ruled and decided all things. Four months in, I became pregnant. At six weeks, I suffered another devastating injury—my eye socket was fractured, and I nearly lost my eye. The pregnancy worsened hyper-emesis. The relationship turned dark. He grew verbally abusive and threatened to take the baby after birth so his mother could raise our child in a Buddhist temple. He also turned against my son.

At five and a half months pregnant, desperate and lost, I went through with it again. Alaska would not permit abortions past three months, so the state paid for me to fly to Seattle. No other options were offered at the clinic. There, they performed a sonogram. The baby’s head was significantly larger than it should have been. I could not bear to look. Then came the needle—nine or ten inches long. I began to weep. As they guided it into my womb, my baby moved—frantically trying to escape, burrowing into the left side. My child was aware. My child was frightened and in distress. The lie that unborn babies feel nothing is a deception only the evil or deeply deceived can speak.

Then my baby stopped moving. It felt like a stone—heavy and still—inside my once-safe womb.They carried me into the operating room. When I woke, I was weeping and crying out, “Where is my baby? Give me back my baby! Oh dear God, what have I done? Please… give me back my baby!” The despair and emptiness that followed cannot be expressed in words, truly. For 12 years, that pain of my baby burrowing and trying to move away stayed with me like a long lost love. Everyday. Reminding me. Crying out to me. The pain. The anguish. My mind replaying the murder of my child, over and over. Weeping. Sorrowful. If only I could go back. If only I had five seconds to make a different decision.

For years afterward, it felt as if I was dying every day. Even now, not a single day passes without thoughts of my babies—my beautiful, precious children I never got to meet. I never held them. I never smelled the sweet, heavenly scent of their breath. I never heard their first cries in the night or felt them nurse at my breast. I never looked into their eyes with wonder. I never had the chance to kiss their boo-boos, or hold them when they were scared, or teaching them how to be still and listen. I never watched them run and laugh, scramble eggs in the kitchen, or cuddle close while we dreamed upon the clouds and stars. I missed every sacred moment meant for us. And in missing them, part of my own becoming was lost.

These two choices are the only ones I would undo if I could. Above every hardship, every mistake, they cut the deepest.

Even today, my heart remains tender toward those moments. Tears still come unbidden as I imagine who my children might be now. A sigh escapes, tears fall onto my lap. I see the depravity of what I did. I now understand that in aborting my children, I spiritually signed a blood covenant with a demon god that feeds on the blood of the innocent. This truth is heavy, but it must be spoken. It is a matter of life and death.

To any woman reading this who is considering abortion: I have walked this path before you. I implore you—please do not go through with it. Stop. Breathe. Pause long enough to see there are other options. There are agencies and families who long for your child more than words can say. You can even reach out to me. Just please, choose life. Give this precious soul inside you the chance to breathe, to laugh, and to soar into the destiny for which they were created.

You are loved beyond what you can fathom. Though the Father desired life for that child, when you turn to Him in true repentance, you are forgiven. The blood of Jesus covers it completely. Your sin is cast into the Sea of Forgetfulness, and The Father remembers it no more. The shame may threaten to strangle you at first, but do not remain there. Come before Him as His forgiveness rushes toward you with fervor and unwavering love. 

Call upon the Father of Lights—Yahweh, Call upon Jesus... The One who formed you and your baby before the earth was ever a thought, Psalm 139. He is mercy. He is grace. He is redemption. Do not listen to the condemning voices or the cheers for death. The Father is not waiting to condemn you—He longs to wrap you in His love. He has a plan and purpose for you and your baby.

Please… choose life, just as life was chosen for you.