When I was a teenager, I faced an unplanned pregnancy. Due to the influences around me, I nearly decided to terminate. During my first visit to the clinic, while lying on the exam table, the medical staff discovered that I was further along than the ultrasound had initially indicated. The doctor looked at the nurse and said, "She is 13 weeks, not 10! Did you do the ultrasound? I cannot perform this abortion!" I still remember the coldness of the room and the staff, as well as the physical chill I felt.
After their conversation, they sat me up, walked me to the “recovery room,” handed me a small cup of juice, and two crackers. Still groggy and barely able to walk, they instructed me to schedule a two-day appointment to “get it done.” And then, I walked to the car by myself. I eventually made an appointment at another clinic, but I couldn’t be seen until six weeks later. During that second appointment and ultrasound, I was informed that my baby was in a breech position (head on top), so the abortion couldn’t proceed. However, I was given referrals to two clinics that had the ability to perform a late-term. This meant I would have to give birth to a stillborn baby.
At my third and final visit to the late-term abortion clinic, it was evident that many of the young women there were also far along in their pregnancies. We were all “showing,” and although I didn’t yet know the Lord, I believe He stirred my heart. I told the nurse I couldn’t go through with the planned procedure.
I was just shy of six months—six months. I have felt my baby move for almost 6 weeks.
I did not seek prenatal care because I was not planning on choosing life for my son. I was preparing to abort him. But God pressed upon my heart, and I walked away knowing I made the right decision to choose life.
That afternoon, after my dad found out I was expecting, I was sent to live with relatives 8 hours away. Unfortunately, most of my classmates already knew of my pregnancy, and I became the target of slander and gossip, both verbal and written.
I delivered my son, Eric, the day before my 16th birthday, but in my heart, I couldn’t give my baby, the one I carried for 9 months, to another couple to raise. My parents told me I would not have their support if I chose to raise Eric. Still, I was sure I could get help from somewhere. I ended up staying in the hospital for a week because I was in such turmoil. My story had circulated the floor. Nurses would come to me, expressing how sorry they were for what I was going through and offering their support whatever I chose. As moms and healthcare workers, they had empathy for the pain and anguish I was experiencing. I can’t express the extent of the love and support I received from those women.
I ended up finding a place that I could reside with my newborn son. However, by day six, I began feeling the stress and exhaustion of being cut off from my family, and of Eric constantly crying. I fully recall opening the refrigerator in the middle of the night, opening up the can of formula, and giving Eric that COLD formula. I can distinctly remember the shocked look in his eyes, wondering what I was doing! From that moment, I knew that I couldn’t be the mom Eric deserved or needed. I called the attorney the next day and told him to call Jeff and Maria, his previously chosen adoptive parents, that I will give up my parental rights in order for my son to have the life he deserved. I finally made the painful decision to give my baby to another couple to raise.
Despite everything, we serve a faithful God! What began as a daunting, embarrassing, and shameful experience has been completely transformed by His grace and mercy! Today, I proudly share my story with others.
In conclusion, though the world advocates for women’s rights and choices when facing an unplanned pregnancy, (especially when it doesn’t align with our plans or timing), we can still seek God through prayer His Word, we will find that He has a far greater purpose and plan for us than we could ever imagine.