My Abortion Story - Jenny

I had an abortion in 1969. I became a Christian in the spring of 1969, in Paris, France where I was a student at the Alliance Francaise. At the same time I began to date an Italian boy I met there, a fellow student at the Alliance, and a tailor in one of the great couturier houses of Paris. I only had sexual relations with him one time. I told him I didn't want intercourse, and he asked if he could just lie next to me. He promised he would not enter. But in the heat of the moment, he did, and I wasn't even aware it had happened until after it was over.

That summer I returned to the States as my mother had been hospitalized and I was concerned. I became aware that I had missed a period while I was in the States. An old boy friend took me to an OBGYN; sure enough, I was pregnant. Abortion was not legal in Virginia and he absolutely refused to do one for me.

I really wanted that abortion. My mother had been in a mental hospital, one trip in a string of such trips that started when I was 12-1/2. I was afraid if she found out, she would be totally unhinged. Moreover, the only adopted person I knew at that time was a girl who had been attending my church in Paris. She had been treated like a slave by her adoptive family and was so badly damaged that she could not speak when she first started coming to the church, even though there was nothing wrong with her vocal chords. Strongest of all was a deep, abiding anger against my Italian boyfriend. He wanted me to have the child, and let his mother raise it. But he also had told me she was starting to grow old and to have health problems. I did not want to foist my child onto her. I was totally unaware at that time, that despite the heartache, my child could have been a source of tremendous blessing to her. In retrospect, I think the deepest reason I had the abortion was out of anger. It was an act of raw revenge.

My mother found out that I was pregnant because of my nausea. She was really mad! But she pulled for me and did not fall apart. She didn't want me to have the abortion, but she said it was my decision. She arranged with her sister, my Aunt Tommy, for me to have the abortion in England, where I was born and still had citizenship. So I flew to England, and had it just barely within the 12-week limit.

My first feeling when I woke up from the anesthesia was profound relief. Gradually, however, I became aware of a deeper depression and withdrawal setting in. About six months after the abortion, I was having dinner with some Christian friends I had met in London. One of them was a nurse. She described graphically what happens during an abortion, how tiny hands and arms are sucked out of the womb, and little legs and feet. I was so sick I could not eat, and horribly troubled. I had been under the impression that it was only a tiny blob of undifferentiated tissue at that point, so to learn that the baby already looked like a tiny human was upsetting, to say the least. I did not say a word; I was sure they would all hate me forever if they knew. I sat as still as I could in my chair and hoped they would not notice me.

In about three years' time, God brought me to the point where I could see that every child He makes is a precious beloved child from conception on, and I had made a horrible decision. I asked His forgiveness for my sin. I expected that to be the end of it, but it wasn't. I had no peace about it for years. I got married, and had two children. When I was pregnant with my second child, about 12 years after the abortion, I got involved with the pro-life movement. I found out about an organization called WEBA, Women Exploited by Abortion. They gave me a pamphlet about their work. On the back it had a poem about how Jesus had my baby safely in heaven and was keeping it for me. It worked on me like a key unlocking a vault in my heart. A volcano of grief erupted out of me. I wept for my baby. I had mourned for my sin, but never for my baby; I hadn't even know that grief was down there. I cried and cried. After that, I went through the normal grieving process anyone goes through over the loss of a loved one.

After two or three years of mourning, I was able to put it to rest for the most part, but there were still niggling little things that would pop up once in a while. I didn't know the sex of my child. It didn't have a name. This past year, I received the Holy Spirit's gift of tongues. On the 31st anniversary of the death of my baby, I was praying in the Spirit and I felt full of God's warmth and love. I was praying for a while, and I felt great sorrow. Since I didn't know what it was about, I said to Him, God what are you so sorry about? I don't want you to be so sad.” After a little while, He impressed on me that what He was grieving over so deeply was abortion. I asked Him what He wanted me to do about it, and I felt Him say, “Take the post abortion recovery class you just heard about [I had heard about it the Sunday before. It was being offered through the Pregnancy Resource Center]. And I want you to write." So I said all right, Lord, I will do that. As I was going to bed, I said to Him, “Lord, I don't even know the sex of my child. I don't know its name.” He said, (not audibly, but I know He said it) pick a name. I said, “How can I pick a name when I don't know its sex?” He said, “Pick a name, the name will give you the sex.” I thought of one name and immediately rejected it. Then I thought, “Lydia! I have always wanted a girl named Lydia. No wonder the longing in me has been so strong!” So that was it. I had a vision of a beautiful young woman with brown eyes and black curly hair like her dad, a small curly mouth and beautiful, broad high cheekbones and a turned up nose. Then I had a vision, dim and hazy, of black haired grandchildren with blue eyes, all snuffed out by one brutal, violent act. No wonder He was so sad!

The next day I wrote out my story and E-mailed it to my Pastor. He discussed it with the elders, and they invited me to tell my story as I had written it to the entire congregation. It was a great blessing to me to be able to tell my story; God used it in my life, and I think in others as well.

I signed up to take that Bible study, and started it last January. I discovered through it that there were still a couple of things I had to do to finally finish healing. One was to forgive myself. Another was to forgive an aunt, and the father of my child. And lastly, I received much valuable information that was incorporated into this course. In fact I could not have taught this course without having taken the study. I am very grateful to God for completely healing me and loving me, and for allowing me to teach this course. [The course was a course on the Sanctity of Life that I taught in Romania in the Spring of 2001].

If you have been involved in an abortion and would like to talk to someone please call Call our toll-free national hotline 877 HOPE 4 ME (877 467 3463).  Or visit www.rachelsvineyard.org