I wrote this a couple of years ago. During that time, I was really struggling with all this and couldn’t make it personal. Since then, I’ve come to realize God’s grace and mercy and felt His forgiveness in my life. I also know now that the weight of the decision that rested squarely on my shoulders that day does not need to remain only on me; there were other people in my life at that time who contributed to the decision and I have, whether they know it or not, forgiven each and every one of them.
And so today, as 500,000 people march on Washington DC in protest of legalized abortion, I lend my small voice, my small story, to those who would read.
SheI walked, slowly, up the stairs. Reaching for the glass door, sheI was unsure what to expect. Instantly sheI thought of the series of events that lead to this moment; shame and fear flooded over herme. One small part of herme wanted to run, run from the door, from him, from them, from the whole situation. But sheI didn’t. The part of herme that wanted to run was overpowered by hermy pride. SheI couldn’t do what sheI wanted to now no matter what. It would mean sheI wasn’t strong. It would mean admitting that sheI wasn’t capable of making hermy own decisions only reinforcing that THIS decision was right because it was theirs, that they were right. Going on hermy own allowed herme to maintain some level of control in an otherwise out of control situation. It made them think that sheI agreed with them, and it made herme feel like sheI was making the decision. SheI continued to wrestle with the decision as sheI walked through the door and into the cold empty lobby.
SheI thought sheI would see a medical office, with office staff and other familiar sights. SheI thought sheI would see a waiting room, complete with magazines and tables. Instead, it was more like a corporate office lobby. It seemed cold, professional. The thoughts of running crept in again, but once again pride over took them.
sheI waited for hermy “interview”, sheI again thought of the circumstances that brought herme to this point. Why, sheI wondered, had sheI violated hermy own moral code? Why had sheI defied hermy parents, hermy mother? Why had sheI wanted to wander from the safety and security of childhood? And why can’t sheI go back? Why does it have to be this way? SheI wanted to turn back the hands of time and change the decisions that were made, to make better ones…different ones. SheI looked down at hermy slightly swollen belly, and quickly diverted hermy own attention. SheI couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow hermyself to go there. SheI couldn’t think about it.
A moment later, they called
hermy name. Alone, SheI followed through the wooden door. A few hours later, sheI emerged, tearfully, painfully, empty.