Will You Share Your Life?

Dear Readers,

I hope that your visit to this site has provided something of value to you - some comfort, some insight, some revelation, some healing.

My story is out now and I will continue to add more as it comes to me to be shared.  There is so much value in sharing our stories with one another.  Hearing others' stories helps us feel not so alone in our pain, shows us that healing can happen and so offers hope, gives us compassion for others by putting a name and person to an issue and binds our lives together on a very basic level by showing we all have the same basic needs.

I want to invite you to share your stories here on my blog.  If you have been affected by abortion in any way, whether you are the one who has had one or you have a friend or loved one who has.  Maybe you are or were a clinic worker and can share some insight that would be helpful for others who are considering one or are an advocate for abortion.  Maybe you just have a question about something in my blog.  I would love to hear from you.

Simply subscribe to the comments and/or posts (so that you can see yours and others' stories when posted) and then either write your story or question under one of the posts.  My site requires my approval on all comments so I will review it prior to posting.  I encourage you to share your identity and even a picture but it is not required and I will definitely conceal your identity if you so wish.  Please be clear about your request in your comment.

Your story is your story so, although I might fix grammatical or spelling errors for the ease of reading (and because they drive me nuts and I can't help myself ;)  ) I will not change your story or leave parts out.  The only thing I ask is that you share in a way that is helpful and healing to others.  I will read every comment but I will not share, publicly, those that would be harmful to others and I will not post profanity.  Please choose your words wisely so that all can hear your story without being distracted by offensive language.

Your story is your story but is also the story of so many others.  It has the power to change lives and to help in healing others and changing minds and opinions.  Our lives are all connected and we are all connected to every life to come.  Your story could save a life.  I hope you will share.

With all my love,

Robin

Thankful.

Tonight, as I sit in the quiet of our home with a beautiful fire, a warm blanket, a comfortable chair, the sweet smells of a day of baking and thoughts of a day with family, tomorrow, I am overwhelmed with thankfulness.

As a young person with intense yearnings for a life like this I don't think that I ever imagined that I would be so blessed.  I invested so much of myself, physically, emotionally and spiritually, in finding someone to really love me that I don't even think I thought about what my future would hold.  And with every 'investment' my inner sense of worthlessness increased and my hope weakened.  And all the while, God was right there with me; loving me, protecting me, longing for me just to turn around.  I had no idea that the one I longed for was right there with me all the time, even in the darkest moments.

I am so very thankful for all of the material blessings of this life God has given me but they are nothing compared to what He has done for me.  He has given me life.  Abundant life!  

He pursued me and wrapped me in His protection for years.  He followed me into ugly places where many others turned away and left me.

He held me each time I fell in my messes.

He called me to Himself even after all I had done.

He gave me new life, made me a new creation, changed me from the inside out.

He has shown me His purpose for my life and He equips me to fulfill it.

He guides me and teaches me through His Word and through His people and by the Spirit within me.

Before I was born and with full knowledge of all I would do against Him, Jesus died for me so that I would be not only forgiven and saved for eternity but also that I could live for Him fully in this life.

I can't imagine my life without God at the center and, at the same time, I will never forget what my life looked like before giving my life to Him.  I don't want to forget because out of those memories comes thankfulness and an intense desire to please Him.

Not only did He do all of these things for me but He has given me an amazing family that, based on human judgment, I so little deserve.  He is a God of extravagant love, boundless grace, extraordinary mercy and endless hope.  

There are so many around me who have never experienced Jesus' amazing love and my heart yearns for them to know Him like I do.  I am so thankful for the hope there is in knowing that He is a patient and persistent God and I know that He will not give up on anyone.  I am living proof of that!

I am thankful from the bottom of my heart and with my whole being.

Psalm 100

A psalm of thanksgiving.

1 Shout with joy to the Lord, all the earth!
2     Worship the Lord with gladness.
    Come before him, singing with joy.
3 Acknowledge that the Lord is God!
    He made us, and we are his.[a]
    We are his people, the sheep of his pasture.
4 Enter his gates with thanksgiving;
    go into his courts with praise.
    Give thanks to him and praise his name.
5 For the Lord is good.
    His unfailing love continues forever,
    and his faithfulness continues to each generation.

I need no other....

He Loves You.

Dear Sweet Soul,

My heart is broken because yours is broken and hurting.  As I think back on my journey through the past 23 years, I realize there have been so many stages of brokenness and healing.   The mixture of fear, hope and longing at the very beginning.  The realization of the reality of life, the fear of the unknown and the aloneness. The surrender to the decision.  The fear.  The denial.  The feelings of judgement and shame.  The sadness that comes with being convinced that a Holy God, or anyone else for that matter, could ever love me.  Aloneness again.

Every stage was painful and all around me were reminders of what I had done.  There were billboards, sign-holders, casual conversations about a very complicated subject, shaking heads and clicking tongues, commercials, bumper stickers, precious friends with strong convictions, my own memories and thoughts.  Each instance created an awareness in me and a remembrance of my pain - sometimes at the surface but most often, deep inside.  I think the hardest one for me was when someone would say, "I just don't see how someone could do such a thing.  I could never do it."  I can remember that it felt as if every single part of my brokenness and every hurt would come rushing forth all at the same time and they would all crash together.  I would want to scream out, "you just don't know," but I couldn't ever form a coherent response because the memories and the pain and the denial and the shame and the fear were all rolled together and so either I said nothing or I softly uttered that it's wrong to make judgement on others unless you have walked in their shoes, trying to sound wise and virtuous so that I didn't bring any suspicion on myself.  Aloneness.

My healing journey has been much like peeling back layers of an onion.  The unwrapping of a deep hurt covered over by many wounds, some self-inflicted and some unknowingly caused by others.  I believe that it began with my search for God.  I wanted to know who He was.  I wanted to have the faith that I saw in others.  I wanted wholeness and joy.  Little did I know, at that time, that my searching was initiated by an inclination in my heart put there by my Creator.  What an incredible Grace He has given to each of us, these longing hearts of ours.  Even as I sought Him out, though, there was a block.  Deep within me there was a belief that a Holy and perfect God could never love me.  I was as fearful of rejection by His people as I was by Him.  I never shared my secret with the Christians I knew but felt condemned by them even still.  Aloneness again.

And, then, I met Jesus.  Who was this sinless man?  The Son of God?  Was I to believe that God would sacrifice His only son for the sins of the whole world?  For my horrible sin?  Why?  Why would someone do that?  I could not grasp (and still don't quite) that kind of love.  I had never experienced it before and certainly didn't believe I was worthy to receive it.  And yet, there He was.  Loving even me. Loving me in spite of my unbelief and awful choices.  Loving me enough to die for me.  Redeeming the precious life I had been tossing around like garbage.  Forgiving me for what I considered to be an unforgivable act.  Exchanging my hard heart of stone for a heart of flesh.  Applying a soothing balm to so many raw and painful places that I thought would never heal.  Holding me and assuring me that I was no longer alone.

There would be many more layers to peel back over many years to bring me to where I am today.  I am only able to share my story and offer encouragement to you because of the love Jesus has given me.  Twenty three years ago, there wasn't anyone in my life to tell me about Jesus' love for me.  I had no idea who he really was and that he could forgive me or that he would even give me a second glance.  But there he was.

I can imagine him coming to you, gently taking your face in his hands, raising your beautiful face up towards his tear-stained face, looking you in the eyes and saying, "I love you."  I can see him wiping away your tears and holding you in his arms as he tells you the story of your life.  He would tell you how he knew you before you were conceived, how he formed you so carefully and purposefully in your mother's womb, how he knows every hair on your head and the number of your days, how he loves you with this extravagant love that you can't comprehend, how he died so that you would have abundant life here on earth and eternity with him.  He would say to you, "Beloved, give me all of your pain and sorrow.  Let me heal your wounds and scars.  I long for you to live unburdened by your past.  You are more than your mistakes.  You are mine, you are forgiven and I love you more than life itself."

Dear sister or brother, he is everything.  Trust him with your heart.  I long for you to know true joy and peace.  You were created for a purpose and are such an amazing gift.

Love,

Robin

What God has done...

My Dearest Emily,

I know that I don't have to tell you this because you are with Him, but for the benefit of those who might be reading these letters, I have to share the amazing things God has done for this once lost soul.

Every person deals with life's trials differently.  Some talk it out with God or people.  Some scream and pound their fists to empty themselves of the hurt.  Some mask the pain with drugs or alcohol, work or other activity.  Some apply the old adage 'suck it up' and just move on.  Some stuff it deep down in their souls and only deal with what happens to occasionally bubble up.  I think I have done every one of these things in my journey.

There have been so many stages of healing for me.  From denial to shame to guilt to realizing responsibility to acceptance of God's forgiveness to now sharing.  And God has been with me every single step of the way.  Sometimes I knew He was there and sometimes I didn't feel Him and sometimes I flat out denied Him.  But He was there.  He never moved.  He was always waiting for me to fall into His arms and cry so that He could comfort me.

For so long, I didn't consider that I needed forgiveness because I didn't recognize who He was.  In fact, it was stuffed so deep that I chose not to think of you if I didn't have to.  When I did begin to learn about who He was and started to seek Him out, I felt shame before Him.  I could not imagine that He could ever forgive what I had done.  See, I didn't know Him fully.  At the time, to me, He was this huge mighty God of the universe who hovered above us and cast down judgement on people who did horrible things.  Oh, how wrong I was.

As I learned from the people around me more about God, I learned about Jesus and the sacrifice he had made.  It made no sense to me.  Why in the world would the Creator die for me?  Why would someone without sin be willing to die for the horrible things I had done?  What kind of love must it take to sacrifice your only son for people who made such poor choices?  I couldn't conceive of that kind of love.  I still, to this day, marvel at it and don't think I fully grasp the enormity of a love like that.

But, in this journey He has shown me how much He loves me.  He has taken a broken, messed up, confused, mislead, girl and He has shown me extravagant Love.  Grace is getting something you don't deserve.  Mercy is not getting what you do deserve.  Not only had He protected me through all of the years I denied Him and went my own way but then, when I was ready, he lavished all three - Love, Grace and Mercy - on me and He changed me forever.

He has put people in my path who love me no matter what.  My parents, my husband, my children, my friends.  People who know what I did to you and still love me.  That's God's love demonstrated through them.  There have been others I don't even know who have shared their stories and I have learned from them.

He has shown me Truth through His Word that helps me to know Him better and understand more fully just how deep and how wide His love is for me.  He has grown me through His nudging to step out of my comfort zones and most definitely through a recent study that I am going through with a friend.  There has been so much healing in the past few months.  I know that there will always be raw spots in my journey, new realizations of hidden feelings, and new opportunities to reach out to others who are hurting.  But it's all for His Glory.

His latest gift to me was to give me your name.  Emily.  I never thought of your name before.  The book I am working through right now, Surrendering the Secret, suggested praying for God to give you a name.  The name came clearly and immediately.  God is so patient with me because I asked several times after He gave it to me and the impression in my heart never wavered.  Emily it is.  And what a beautiful name! It is so comforting to me.  It's as if your very name soothes my soul.  What a precious gift.

I cannot express to you how I treasure this time of writing to you.  It's like a healing balm.  I know God knows my heart and feels my gratitude, but could you give Him a big hug for me?

All that I am today is because of who He is.  I am eternally grateful.

I love you.

Mom

What it was like...

My Dearest Emily,

As I laid my head down last night after writing you that last letter, I realized that there was more to write.

It has been 23 years but I remember that time almost like it was yesterday.  There are some details that are blurring a bit but I would like to share with you what it was like as I remember it.

I was so lost at the time, Emily.  At 21 years old, I was like this train wreck waiting to happen.  I got off track when I was 14 and spent the better part of seven years speeding and careening towards total destruction.  I had no direction, no boundaries, no concern for others, no regard for God, and though it may have seemed to others as if I only cared about myself I didn't even do that very well.

You see, my teenage years were very difficult.  Our family was a mess and I was smack dab in the middle of it.  I had surrounded myself with friends who were on the same path to destruction as I was.  God was knocking on the door to my heart, inviting me over and over again to turn towards Him, even putting people in my path who would have helped me, and I turned away from Him every time and ran in the opposite direction.  I had said no to God and all of the good opportunities in my life so many times that by the time I was a young adult, there were none left that were apparent to me.

I made decisions based on what seemed right to me at the time.  Every choice was a reaction to the emotion or feeling I had at that moment.  I was constantly searching for the next good thing and I didn't even know what good was.  Whether it was a party, a new guy, a day in the sun when I should have been working, a new sports car, or a drink, it was all about what I felt I needed and so I let myself by driven by my 'needs.'  As it turns out, they weren't needs at all  They were wants.  And, actually, they weren't even wants because it was all just what I thought I wanted but it wasn't at all what my heart was searching for.  That's a whole other letter.

Your father was one of these needs for me.  I had this strange attraction to him and even after he had ended our relationship I sought him out.  I don't know what took me to him that night.  After all, he was involved with someone else and there was so much pain involved in that relationship that I shouldn't have even wanted to see him again.  Nevertheless, I found myself there.  It was that night that you came into the picture.  I know it sounds odd but I knew you were there the next morning.

I spent the next couple of weeks waiting and wondering if my feeling was right.  When I missed my period, I went to Planned Parenthood in Omaha to have a pregnancy test done.  I was nervous and alone.  It was positive.  I remember feeling this sense of panic.  What in the world was I going to do?  How could I take care of a baby?  How was I going to tell my parents?  How was this going to change my life?  I don't remember much of what they said to me at the clinic or what advice they gave me.  I know they said I had a few different options that included abortion.

I had lunch with a good friend the next day and told her that I had decided I would keep you.  I had this feeling of excitement at the thought of having someone to really love and someone who loved me back.  All of these years, that was what I was looking for.  Someone to love me without condition.  Fully and wholly mine.  My heart was full with the prospect of holding you and caring for you.  My friend was a bit unsure but even she was getting excited as we talked about all things baby.  I think that day I felt a little bit of hope for the future.  It might have been unrealistic in my financial situation and in my emotional state but being a person led by emotions, it felt right.

It took me a bit to get up the courage to tell my parents about you.  At the point I told them I had already decided to keep you.  I was set in my mind and in my heart.  When I told them, their reaction was calm.  We began to talk about what should happen next.  They were against my having you for many reasons which seemed reasonable at the time.  I was devastated and, after two days (or what seemed like two days) of discussing all of the reasons why it was not a good idea to have you, I was left feeling helpless and hopeless.  There were so many reasons given that I was overwhelmed by them.  My dad presented me with questions about how I would manage financially.  I was working two jobs at the time to make ends meet and one of them was in a bar.  Obviously, I wouldn't be able to care for you if I was working two jobs.  What kind of mother could I be if I was never home?  What would I do about childcare?  My mom had already raised three children and, understandably, was not ready to raise another.  How would I be able to afford for someone else to care for you while I was at work when I was having trouble paying the bills without you?  My mother raised questions about your health.  Your father was bipolar.  She got out her medical books and read that you had a 50% chance of being the same.  There were questions, rightfully so, about what kind of mother I would be given my lifestyle at the time.  I certainly was very irresponsible in so many areas of my life.  What kind of life would that be for you?  At the end of our discussions, I felt completely spent and defeated.  I had very little hope left that I could or should actually bring you into my world.

For a moment, I considered adoption.  Oh, Emily, how very selfish I was!  My heart ached at the thought of giving you to someone else.  What a twisted mind and heart I must have had at the time to decide it would be better to kill you than to share you with someone else.  Above all other feelings I remember having during this time, this might be the most painful for me now.  Who was I to rob you of your life?  A life ordained by God for a purpose?  What a horrible way to consider life.  Your life was not for me.  Your life was created by God for God.  If only I had understood who He was.  I was my own god.  I thought I created your life by my actions.  I thought it was up to me to decide what would happen to your life.  I was so very wrong.

My last hope, as I left my parents' home, was your father.  I thought that if he would help me then I could still have you.  I called him and told him.  The first words out of his mouth were, "Get rid of it!"  I cannot tell you how I felt at that moment.  I had not one shred of hope left in me, not one little piece of confidence that I could go through with my pregnancy.  I had never felt so alone and without options.  I had no choice (or so I felt.)

And so, I found a clinic in the phone book and made the appointment.  My mother agreed to pay half the cost and your father came to my door with the other half, threw the money at me, turned and left.  I never saw him again.  I was heartbroken.  All I had ever wanted was to be loved.  I had given myself away so many times to get it.  I had sacrificed my education for it.  And, as contradictory as it might seem, I had even denied God for it.  Now, it seemed I carried love within me in the form of a baby and I could see no way that I could have it.  I felt as though my very heart was being ripped from me.

I remember going to my first appointment at the clinic.  I went by myself and there was an exam.  I don't really remember how I was treated.  I do remember the doctor telling me he thought I was about seven weeks and that it would be a simple procedure.  He said you were just a small blob of tissue at that point and that there shouldn't be any complications.  He sent me in to talk to a counselor and she explained how things would go when I returned on Saturday.  As I think about how little information I had about what was to happen, I am so sad.  Emily, I had no idea you had fingers and toes beginning to grow.  I didn't know you had a beating heart, and a mouth and a nose and a brain.  I believed what they told me and I didn't ask questions.  Had I known, I would like to think I would have made a different decision but there is no way to know for sure.

My mother took me to the clinic on Saturday.  The appointment was for the morning and I was instructed to pull into the parking lot, park and then wait for the security guard to come to my car to get me.  We did as we were told.  He offered me headphones and, at the time, I wasn't sure why.  As I walked around the building to the front door I could see why.  Across the street there was a group of church people and, although it was a blur, I could see that there were many people outside yelling and holding up signs with pictures on them.  I couldn't see what was on the signs and I couldn't hear what they were saying.  It all happened so quickly and they were too far away.  As I think back about this whole experience, that was the only brush with God I had that I recognized.  To me, they seemed like a mob angry at me for doing the only thing I thought I could do at the time.  I thought I had no choice.  I felt condemned by them and was angry with the Church for a very long time.  Who were they to stand in judgment of me?  It was my life, my baby, my body, right?  It's not like any of them were going to help me take care of you or pay my bills.  I was so hurt and confused and so thankful for the 'protection' of the guard leading the way.  Oh, how the enemy can twist and skew things, can't he?

I checked into the clinic and was led to a big locker room full of girls.  I would say there were maybe 15 of us and we were all instructed to change into gowns and put our belongings in a locker and then wait to be called.  This time is such a blur in my memory.  I don't remember talking to anyone or anyone talking to me.  I don't remember any faces in the room, only bodies.  I don't remember changing or putting my things away or where and how I waited.  I don't remember being called back but I do remember laying on the table.  I remember being cold.  I remember a loud machine.  I don't remember getting dressed or leaving the clinic.  I don't remember my mother's face or her words to me. I don't remember feeling or thinking anything.  For someone who lived driven by emotions for so many years, I don't remember having any emotional reaction at all.  Maybe my mom would remember it differently but we have only spoken of it once in all of these years and it was so brief that it seemed as though it was something not to be discussed.  It's a hard place for me, Emily, because I have heard so many stories of women with such vivid memories of the actual procedure.  On one hand, I wish I could remember more and at the same time I am thankful I don't.  I'm not sure how I feel about that.  I sense sometimes that it is God's protection of me that keeps me from remembering and yet somehow I feel like I deserve to remember and relive every detail and it makes me feel guilty for not remembering.

My mother took me back to her house and put me to bed.  My family was going out to celebrate my brother's birthday that night and I wasn't up to it.  She told me to sleep.  I remember laying there for a while and possibly even sleeping a bit.  But I was restless.  My go-to comfort in those days was alcohol and I went to the only place I knew I would find comfort.  I got in my car and drove to the dance bar I worked at.  I sat in the back by myself and drank.  I don't remember going home that night but I also don't remember any hard feelings about what I had done.  I suppose I did what I had done for the past seven years.  I drank them away.

Life went on.  From that March until May, it was almost life as usual for me.  I continued to work two jobs, partying, scraping by.  Even though my actions hadn't changed, something about me had.  I was restless.  I felt like I needed to get away, escape.  I was ready to leave town when I met a guy.  I had no intentions of sticking around for him or anyone else.  I had had enough.

But God.  All of a sudden, here was this man who was there every time I turned around.  He was polite and caring, kind and thoughtful.  We were both a mess but we were in it together.  I don't know if God placed him in my life or if it was another desperate choice on my part but I do know that God took us out of the muck and the mire we had buried ourselves in, cleaned us up and redeemed our lives for His Glory.

It would be another 12 years or so before I would think deeply about what I had done to you, Emily.  Oh, there were plenty of times along the way that I thought of you.  When a friend of mine who had had an abortion lost her 10 month old baby.  Whenever someone would talk about abortion and how they couldn't imagine what it would take to make that choice.  When my husband and I were trying to get pregnant and it didn't happen right away - had I wasted my chance for a child?  Whenever it would come up in Bible Study or Sunday School.  Whenever I would see people standing with signs outside an abortion clinic.  Whenever I saw a billboard sign advertising or presenting an alternative to abortion.  When I longed for a little girl and had two boys - had the baby I killed been a girl and I had ruined my chances?  Whenever the doctor or nurse asked how many pregnancies I have had.  Whenever I met someone who has lost a child or could not get pregnant.  Whenever there would be a news article or show about it.  There it was.  Always just under the surface of who I was with roots running very deep.  (And I doubt that I will ever not have some kind of emotional response to all of these things as long as I live.)

I remember, so clearly, coming before God every day for a week begging him to forgive me for what I had done.  And I remember one morning as I was weeping and begging there was this voice so clear in my head.  He said, "What in the world are you talking about?"  It was at that moment that I realized in my heart what I knew in my head.  He forgives and forgets.  He had forgiven me! He had moved on and I was the one stuck.  It was this watershed moment for me, realizing that His grace covered even the worst of sins, even the murder of one of His precious children.  I cannot wrap my head around how He does it but I believe He does and I know, firsthand, the freedom it brings.  I am eternally grateful that my God keeps no record of wrongs.  He is patient with me and loves me extravagantly.  He gives me hope that, one day, you and I will be reunited.  Oh, I cannot wait for that precious day!

I love you.

Mom

A letter to Emily

My Dearest Emily,

My sweet baby girl.  How? How do I express to you the sorrow I feel for ending your life?  I don't have words, only the groaning of my heart.

Oh, how I long to take it back.  How I ache to have made a different choice.  I think of you often and wonder what kind of person you would be.  Would you be full of joy and have a heart that chases after God?  Would your smile draw people to you and to Him?  Would you be excited for the future He had planned for you?  You would be 23 this year had you lived.  I imagine you would be finishing up college and looking forward to what's next - a career, a family, maybe a ministry.

I don't dwell on the 'what ifs' very often because it hurts too deeply.  Sometimes I feel as if I should dwell and suffer long and hard.  It's the least I deserve.  Many years ago I begged and pleaded for God's forgiveness and He, being a God of extravagant Love, incredible Mercy and amazing Grace, did forgive me and He released me from the guilt and the shame of your abortion.  When my mind begins to wander and my spirit begins to sag when the anniversary of your death rolls around, He reminds me that all is forgiven.  I can only hope that you also forgive me for what I did.

I have no excuse for my decisions but I do have reasons.  They don't make sense now but they made sense to me then.  If only I knew then what I now know.  I didn't know so many things.  I lived, at the time, out of my fear and selfishness.  I did not know God.  I was barely making it on my own working two jobs.  I didn't have much support, if any, and I was afraid of having to raise you on my own.  I was afraid to give up the life I was living, which was ridiculous because it was no life at all.  All of these reasons seem so silly now that I know God and how He operates.  I know, now, that He would have taken care of us.  Oh, how I wish I had run to Him all of those times He called me.  If only I had known.

I write this letter to you to try to express to you how deeply sorry I am for my actions.  I want you to know how I love you and long for you.  I know that you are with Jesus and safe from all harm and I am so very thankful for that.  I know that I will see you one day and I trust that, by God's immense Grace, I will be able to hold you.

I can never take back or fix what has been done.  I know that I can't live in the past, but I pray that by sharing our story, I can help others who have been wounded by the horrors of abortion and maybe help to prevent some from making the mistakes I have made.  I pray that God will use for good what the enemy meant for destruction.  I pray that He would use me to help save lives and lead those with broken hearts towards Him so that He can heal them.

I love you.

Mom