This week on my preferred news podcast, they talked about Sanctity of Life Sunday. On January 22, 1984, President Ronald Reagan issued a presidential proclamation designating the third Sunday of January as National Sanctity of Human Life Day. Pastors, churches, and life organizations in the United States use this day to bring awareness to the attacks that are daily waged against human life through abortion.
January isn’t the only time of year abortion and expectant moms and dads are on my mind. A pregnancy care center in my region sends texts asking me and other people to pray for young women and men who are thinking of ending their pregnancies. All the information is anonymous. We pray behind the scenes and don’t learn of the decisions these young people make. We are simply called on to intercede with prayers to God for them and for their babies in hopes that one little life will be spared from death.
I connect with these young couples on a deeply personal level. As a young working woman in my 20s, I dreamed of marrying Mr. Right and being mom to a bunch of kids. Having seven siblings gave me lots of chances to care for lovable little ones. The pain of my parents’ divorce soon after I graduated high school made me afraid of marriage. Babies—that was another story. I yearned for motherhood.
When I got the news from my family physician that I was pregnant, it wasn’t excitement or anticipation I felt. I’d been dating a man for a while, and he seemed to be getting serious. We often slept together at my apartment. That’s just how we rolled back then. I got the news on the phone at work, and my heart thumped hard in my chest as I quietly asked the doctor if he knew what I could do if I didn’t want the baby. He directed me to an abortion clinic in the big city. This was after abortion became legal in 1973.
Looking back, I realize I was pragmatic and unfeeling. There were no tears, second thoughts, or even a moment’s hesitation. This pregnancy was inconvenient, and I needed to get out of it. Honestly, I didn’t want his parents to know we were sleeping together. They were religious people, and my family didn’t go to church regularly. Pride motivated me and even surpassed my lifelong dream of being a mother.
We agreed on getting an abortion, even though we cared about each other. I don’t think I loved him, but he loved me and would do what I wanted about the baby. I made the appointment, and, on that day, we drove to the clinic downtown. My legs twitched nervously as we sat in the waiting room. I didn’t have much experience with healthcare. How bad would it hurt? A staff member took me back and explained the procedure. I changed into a hospital type gown and closed my eyes as I lay on the exam table and a person I presumed was a doctor noisily sucked the baby out of my womb. Once home, I quickly healed, unchanged emotionally by the choice we made.
We got married, but it only lasted a few years. He dedicated the song, Cold as Ice to me as I told him I wanted a divorce. That described me to a tee—heartless about our baby and marriage.
My wish for motherhood became reality when I married my kids’ dad. Our dear daughter was born, then our precious son four-plus years later. Before my son was born, I came to realize there was a God who loved me. Though I didn’t know it then, sin had directed most of my life up until that point. As I read the Bible for the first time, God opened my eyes to see that Jesus Christ died for my sin and would forgive the wrongs I had done. I found Him irresistible and asked Him to be my Savior. He turned me from heartless to repentant, from cold as ice to on fire for Jesus. Gradually I learned to let God lead in my choices.
As a working mother, I didn’t get much time alone at home. One weekday I had the place to myself. As I finished reading my Bible and planned what I’d do next, I sensed God drawing me to a place on the couch. I sat and bowed my head, and as I did, the Holy Spirit invited me to open a door in my heart and memory from years before.
As God gently led me, my mind moved back in time to the abortion clinic. God and I sat there in that formerly closed room, and He patiently waited. My throat throbbed and tears rolled down my cheeks as I remembered the woman I was back then, choosing to end my baby’s life. I prayed, telling God how cold and unfeeling I acted toward my child and his dad. I admitted I had chosen to have the abortion because of my pride. I was selfish. I begged Him to forgive me. After a long time, I dried off my face and rose from the couch, peaceful inside.
God healed one more piece of my broken life that day by His loving leading and forgiveness. He’s given me a burden to pray for men and women facing unplanned pregnancy. There’s a better choice than I made. Today, I would choose life because it is precious to God.
“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. . . All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Psalm 139:13-16
A Goldilocks Life 