On one Sunday afternoon, I met a man in the park. Because I didn’t fully surrender everything to Jesus, I returned to bars on Saturday night and attended church on Sunday. But I kept the dark places of my heart off limits. So when a friend invited me to church, I attended and asked Jesus to come into my life. My way of living always left me feeling worse. Unfortunately, I miscarried and returned to the same lifestyle. This time I determined to keep the baby, believing it would remove the heartache. But when I thought about what I had done and how depressed I was, back to the bars I went. I wasn’t strong enough to walk out on my own two feet and say, ‘I’m not going to do this.” I shoved feelings of wanting to be a mother deep inside.įeeling numb after the abortion, I struggled to move forward. I believed the lie that in the early stages of pregnancy the fetus was “tissue.” Then I reasoned, I will never think about it again.Īlone and afraid, I sat in the hallway of the hospital and hoped that a nurse would come and tell me the procedure could not be performed. Not knowing who the father was and fearing what my family would say, I opted to abort.Įven though I vowed to never choose abortion, it was the only way to keep my pregnancy a secret. Then I got pregnant in a one-night stand. I told myself that if guys wanted me to have sex with them, they must love me. This happened a lot in my quest to find love. The co-worker took me for a drive, but I didn’t tell her everything. I understood then that God stepped in to protect me from irresponsibility and madness, and to show me that He loved me and knew what I was doing. The psychiatrist was calling to check on me, and the woman at the door was a co-worker returning my vacuum. When I placed the knife on my wrist, the phone and the doorbell rang at the same time. My idea of committing suicide intensified to a plan of action. He didn’t know that I would become an alcoholic. Then he suggested that I socialize with other people and encouraged me when I told him co-workers had asked me to go to bars. I felt like a zombie after taking the prescribed antidepressants. I felt worthless.Īt eighteen and nowhere to go, I went to a psychiatrist for support. Yet my two sisters and brother-in-law moved home when they had problems. In his mind, I had a job and was making money. What about our plans to get married? I had no idea that my boyfriend’s leaving, my dad’s rejection, and my search for love would lead to alcohol, promiscuity, and a decision to abort my baby.Įverything made me cry. How could he do this to me after all the time we spent together? I said to myself.
My boyfriend’s voice was flat and emotionless.
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