I am forty-four and pregnant. Unbelievable. Five pregnancy tests all torn apart in some hotel in Kansas City. All positive within seconds. Stunned. Flabbergasted, really. My partner and I hadn’t used birth control in years. Not because we were trying for a child, but because after years of being casual about birth control, we assumed he shot blanks. Guess the joke was on me.

That night, I met an old colleague, and we caught up. I was dying inside but couldn’t—wouldn’t—share. Not that he wouldn’t have accepted me. I was just afraid. Prideful. In shock. In denial. 

I called my partner and told him. He asked how that happened. Lack of birth control, bud. Elimination of suspects. Nothing else. No one else. Yours. Mine. Not ours. By this time, our union was just a shell game. Smoke and mirrors. Happy looking, successful, beautiful couple. What a farce. What a sham. Not happening. Empty. Dead. 

I recall praying. I recall crying. I recall the decision to call the clinic and make an appointment to terminate the pregnancy. I called my mom and gained her support. I distinctly recall it was my choice. I did not consult my partner on the topic at all. Some regrets live on, and some don’t. This was one that didn’t. I simply was not going to get myself into any situation that would force me to be dependent on or intertwined with him. I couldn’t trust him with anything. I certainly could not depend on him to be a father, and I was not going to do it myself. 

As I walked into the clinic in Dallas, they were holding an anti-abortion rally outside its doors. I saw they were approaching the young, scared, soon-to-be mothers entering and engaging them in persuasive conversation. Not me. I stood tall, was dressed in business clothes, and walked through that crowd like I was going on a sales call. Confident, scared to the root of my soul, ashamed, assured my decision was accurate. I’m pretty certain none of them expected a forty-four-year-old client. 

Once inside, I was at peace. The waiting room was full of such young, scared girls. Some with boyfriends, others with mothers or sisters, and some sat alone, just like me. I realized as we sat there waiting for our names to be called that we all had such different paths and stories that had led us to the exact same point. I somehow found peace in that. Maybe it was the birds of a feather thing.

My name was called, and I slipped into my gown. All the nurses were so kind and gentle and soft-spoken. The furniture, beds, and the clinic itself were threadbare and reminiscent of the 1950s. But to me it felt like a comfortable old blanket. Like grandma’s house. Not fancy, but spotless and full of love and peace. I felt comfortable, safe, and unjudged. The realization of seeing the tiny heartbeat and having the nurse assure me that I was, in fact, six weeks along was surreal. I could identify the night of conception. Oddly, I recalled thinking at the time that we should have used birth control that night. I had let my guard down. 

Next the doctor came in. He was in his sixties and looked like he was tired of fighting the daily fight to perform procedures that are firmly protected by our constitution in 2007. He asked me why I was thinking about an abortion. I recall clearly how I explained that I did not have a partner that gave two cents about me, how much I loved my career, and how I could not afford to give my job up to raise this child. I told him I had three beautiful adult sons, and that I was done with the child rearing time in my life. I told him I had based my decision on logic, knowledge, and not fear. 

While recuperating in this warm, dark, soft, music-playing wardroom, I felt at absolute peace. Nestled into my blankies alone with my thoughts, I knew I had made the right decision. Six hours later, I got up, dressed, and walked out the door into the same crowd I’d walked past seven hours earlier. They now knew. I knew they knew. Again I strode past them, head high, my eyes up, confident that I had taken control of the rights of women to own their own bodies. Even now, as I write this as a reborn Christian, I do not know if I would have made a different choice. That was my path—the same path that led me to Christ and the same Christ-driven path I am on today. Judge me. Applaud me. Pray for me. Cry for me. The choice is yours—just as the choice was mine. 

ISMs: Self Hatred. Broken. Utter Destruction of Soul. Desperation.

Sin accused is murder. I believe it is a woman’s right to choose to grow a baby in their womb or not. I do not believe abortion is birth control to be abused, but it should be an option. I believe women take on 100% of the responsibility for carrying a child and 70-90% of the care. There are great fathers out there who break that mold, but holistically it is the mothers who raise the babies. If a woman is pregnant, she alone may choose her destiny. Roe vs. Wade was signed into place to protect women in need of medical choices. With it being revoked in many states, we are casting shame on women needlessly as they franticly search out facilities for council or to end pregnancies. Many states are endangering women—women who will find alternative choices outside of a medical clinic. We will see many young, scared mothers turn to unlicensed providers. Eliminating clinics will not eliminate abortions. 

There are many reasons to end a pregnancy. Many good reasons and many that aren’t as good. All have the same result. 

Truth is, not all pregnancies are good news. Perhaps there is barely enough food to go around in a household. Perhaps having a baby will guarantee your career ends. Perhaps this baby is coming into an abusive household? Perhaps the baby has severe medical issues in gestation. Perhaps the baby is the result of a horrible rape, incest, or an abusive marriage. As a woman, we know the birth control responsibility is all ours. It seems impossible to believe that male birth control pills have not been invented to share the responsibility, but they haven’t. Now you find yourself pregnant. You must act fast. No wishing the circumstances away. You must move quickly to ensure your instincts are being met. No desperate self-harm. Don’t trust your emotions, as they will lead you astray. Trust what is being said deep in your heart. Open up and talk. 

Pray. Ask for wisdom. Listen. Go into yourself and be honest. Why are you contemplating this? If the pregnancy was unexpected, what have you learned to never be in this position again? Have you really gained peace and gained wisdom with your decision? Or are you simply taking the easy way out? What are your reasons? Do they justify the result? Every answer is correct. 

Christ knew I would abort the baby. It didn’t surprise Him, as it was already in my path the day I was born. No one tells Christ who will be saved and who will not be. He is in control of all things. Everything is on His timetable. Even abortions. 

So am I justifying murder? No. Am I doomed to eternal damnation because I sought an abortion? No. Is abortion a sin that Christ cannot overcome? No. Is the sin of abortion worse than the sin of sexual immorality? No. All sins are all heinous. All sins can be erased with Christ’s mercy. If He didn’t die for ALL sins, then his sacrifice on the cross was futile.  

Do you believe Christ knew I would have an abortion? Do you think I caught Him by surprise driving to the clinic? Do you think He didn’t already know what my next move would be? That He wasn’t there in that hotel room in Kansas City with me reading the positive results? Or the night I cried out to Him through sobs? Do you think He didn’t know when I conceived? Yes, He knew, as He is omnipresent and all knowing. He comforted me that day. He held my hand all the way through and afterwards while recuperating. He gave me the strength to act on what I knew to be true. He loved me all the way through and continues to use my testimony to inspire others caught in the same predicament. 

Today, I can support women in the same way Christ supported me. I won’t talk you out of an abortion any more than I’d talk you into one. I don’t have that power. Only Christ controls that. But rather, offer encouragement, unconditional love, and support. I won’t make you suffer the shame in silence or ridicule. I won’t cast scorn or lecture you on morality. I will stand by your right to choose your path. I will encourage you with Christ’s words and help you find peace. If you have been raped, you deserve comfort. If the baby you’re carrying is endangering your life or is not expected to survive, you need comfort and wisdom. Not judgement. 

If you’re not pregnant while reading this keep your legs shut and your pants on. Stop the madness—starting today. 

What if abortion hasn’t been your path as a man or woman? Are you better than others who faced this trial and chose to terminate a baby’s life? Do you feel your life path wouldn’t put you in that situation? Do you secretly—or not so secretly—feel your beliefs are better than others on the topic? Have you talked to your entire family and your dear friends about their beliefs? I doubt it. Seems everyone is afraid to talk about it. Do you have empathy for the woman standing in front of you? Do you feel others’ stories don’t matter? Who among us gets to set morality rules when the world is filled with lewdness?  Why do men believe they have a voice when it comes to a woman’s body? 

Motherhood is a destiny and an honor. Prayerfully decide when it is your turn. Prayerfully decide your own decision.