As I’ve heard it told, this is a story that begins rife with turmoil. A young teenager. An “unplanned” pregnancy. A baby often described as, “having no chance in life.”

I’m a day late with this story because this date sneaks up on me every year but if I get real honest with you, it’s more that I’m generally pretty reluctant to discuss abortion in public and in private because I find myself at such a loss for words.

I don’t take a stand.

And that’s sad.

It’s weak, and it’s wrong.

My husband posted someone’s status yesterday on his Facebook page and it reminded me of the one I refered to at the beginning of this post.

That status read:

“40 years and 2 days ago there was a 16-year-old girl in rural Mississippi that gave birth to a little baby boy out-of-wedlock (me). Two weeks later she gave him up for adoption. I am so glad that she had no other “choice” but to give that boy life. I have had a wonderful 40 years (and 2 days). I grieve for the millions of children since Jan 22nd 1973 who were deprived of life.”

I don’t know who that status belongs to. He shared it from a friend’s page.

The story I’ve already mentioned is one I heard 6 or 7 years ago.

That story goes a little something like this:

40 years, 1 week and 3 days ago a 15-year-old girl in small town South Carolina gave birth to a baby girl. Earlier, she’d flown to New York City to experience the shadowy world of abortion. Before the Supreme Court handed down the historic Roe V Wade decision on January 22, 1973, abortions were already legal in 17 states under circumstances beyond those necessary to save a woman’s life. So she boarded a plane with plans to legally “terminate her pregnancy.”

Her family hadn’t been supportive. She thought she had no choice.

Terrifed, that 15-year-old, small-town girl said she entered the clinic, made it to the exam room and through the exam to hear that the baby would have to be extracted “in pieces.” Her decision to spare her family embarrassment, perceived or real, changed with the sudden image of a real baby, a body just moments before described as developed enough to be dismembered.

“I felt a presence in that room, and I knew I couldn’t go through with it,” she said.

That 15-year-old was… my mom.

That baby who, “stands no chance in life” was me.

My mom left the clinic sobbing as she looked for a payphone. She found a phone booth and called my dad who said, “come home. We don’t have to do this.”

They’re still married.

I’m sad for the moms who grieve in silence over decisions many do come forward to say they really weren’t at peace in making.

May God forgive my silence and give me GRACE to explain why abortions are personal to me. Why they bother me. Why they’re wrong.

May he work in all our hearts to reach out to young girls like my mom who felt they had not other choice. May he move in our hearts to become a society that values life.

My Family