That One Time…You Had an Abortion

Remember?

(Imagine you do.)

And I invite you to find some solace here.

Peace.

… If that has eluded you.

This isn’t a political post. It’s not a hot take or snap judgment either. (Naming/shaming someone who’s terminated a pregnancy is uncalled for, misguided… and mean.)

Let’s start here: I freely acknowledge I know nothing about your pregnancy, that difficult decision or your feelings about it. But if I did, I hope you’d say that I listened to your story with nothing but tenderness, openness, compassion.

Maybe your abortion was a long time ago. (It might even feel like another lifetime.) But somehow, inevitably, your mind circles back there.

To that time when “choice” felt like… you didn’t have any.

That time when you felt terminally alone in that god-awful room.

That time when the physical pain didn’t compare to the mental anguish.

Which is maybe why you try not to think about it. (Let alone discuss it.)

Seems like we talk about everything now. Our religious preferences and political views. PMS and PTSD. Hemorrhoids and opioids. Paranormal activity and porn addiction. Gender identity and dementia. AI, ED and NPD. We can get personal in a matter of minutes – in line at the store or online anytime.

But not about that.

Abortion is certainly a matter of public discourse. It’s widely debated, yet – when it comes to personal experience – rarely discussed.

That page has been torn out of nearly every story.

You know when you write something in pencil, make a mistake, start erasing? And then you notice the pencil marks are still visible. So you erase more forcefully… and rip through the paper. It’s kind of like that.

Though few acknowledge it, abortion doesn’t erase a pregnancy (or the person who might have been born).

It just makes the woman who has one bereft.

I know. Not all women grieve their abortions. Many feel relief. (And if that’s you, no need to keep reading.)

But some feel like they’ve had a gaping hole in their heart ever since. They’re stricken. Their uterus healed, but their heart hasn’t.

How do I know? Because I have a few brave friends who bared their souls (and one who asked me to write this a long time ago). Resilient, incredible women who summoned the strength to share their experiences. Why? Because they wish they’d been better informed about what it’s like – the abortion and the aftermath.

They’d heard women champion abortion rights, publicly proclaiming they made the best choice (though sometimes acknowledging the decision was difficult, agonizing even)… but they remarked how startlingly differently their own stories unfolded. How they felt like – in place of a fetus – they carried a haunting secret.

And every so often that secret wrought searing pain.

When they saw ultrasound pictures on Instagram.

At baby showers and gender reveal parties.

On “that day” each year.

And Mother’s Day.

Maybe you feel like my friend. You suffer privately, put on a brave face, tamp down the tears… and say nothing.

Not.

A.

Word.

You don’t mention it because you fear the reaction. The silent judgement. The seismic shift your revelation might cause between you… and whomever hears.

Maybe it’s unspeakable because you think it’s unpardonable. You think if you can’t forgive yourself how could God possibly forgive you?

Well… maybe because he’s…

God.

Whatever your feelings about terminating your pregnancy, God already knows.

I patiently waited, Lord,
    for you to hear my prayer.
You listened and pulled me
from a lonely pit
    full of mud and mire.
You let me stand on a rock
    with my feet firm,
and you gave me a new song,
    a song of praise to you.
Many will see this,
and they will honor and trust
    you, the Lord God. ~ Psalm 40:1-3 (CEV)

He wants nothing more than to hold you close and comfort you. To mend you with mercy and love.

The only prerequisite?

Ask.

And his mercy falls like rain.

Cleansing, healing, refreshing, redeeming.

That’s what Jesus does.

That’s why he willingly surrendered his life.

To love us whole again.

So you don’t have to torture yourself with regret and grief. You don’t have to pay a lifelong penance for ending your pregnancy. You’re not too far gone. (Ever.)

And that tiny person God intended… still is.

He or she was made for forever… just like you and me. And heaven really is real. We just need to know the Way.

Believe Jesus. Receive his grace. Let him take your angst and give you sweet peace.

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

None.

He makes all things new.

(Me and you too.)

Wendy