Abortion Seemed Like the Obvious Answer Until I Met the Lord of Life

Around that time, one of my mother’s boyfriends moved in with her. (They would later marry and have two sons.) Weary of wasting their lives with drugs and alcohol, they sought help. My mother gradually sobered up through Alcoholics Anonymous. Looking to escape the junk and craziness in Arizona, she decided to move us to New York state during the summer of 2007, when I was 17.

During our road trip north, I gobbled pills from a stash I had hidden. Upon reaching Tennessee when the pills were gone, I went crazy at rest stops searching for refills.

We ended up in Clinton, New York, a small village upstate. Again, I fell in with the wrong crowd after finding a job at a local pizza shop. I started dating a new boyfriend, Kirk, a drug dealer, and shortly thereafter I moved into his apartment. Daily bouts of drinking and drugs cemented our relationship.

One evening, out of nowhere, my mother invited me to her home for a lasagna dinner, one of my favorite meals. It was February 2008, and I had been feeling nauseous for several weeks. I remember asking myself, “Why is this hangover not going away?”

Before dinner, my mother urged me to the upstairs bathroom. She quickly locked the door and opened a small package. “You are going to take this pregnancy test,” she demanded, “and I am going to sit right here while you do it.”

We waited impatiently for the result—it was positive. The next moment I shut down, disbelieving and crying. A baby was growing inside me. But I was in no shape to give birth or care for a child. I was 18 and heavily addicted, with no car, no job, and no money.

Unprepared to become a father, Kirk offered to pay $400 so I could get an abortion. With everyone whispering abortion in my ears, I thought it was my only logical option. On some level, I figured I was doing my baby a favor. Drug addicts should never be parents, I reasoned, and I was certain I would be a terrible mother. Most of all, I feared repeating my family’s dysfunctional cycle by having another child just like me—in other words, another fatherless mess.

Deep down, and despite all my hesitations, I still wanted this baby. Nevertheless, I decided on abortion. Nothing could change my mind.

Meanwhile, my mother experienced a strange incident while attending a 12-step AA meeting. A stranger walked over to her and gave her a note with a phone number on it. “Call the number tomorrow and take your daughter there,” he said.

It was the number for a local crisis pregnancy center.

My mother told me she was making an appointment to a pregnancy center. Not knowing any better, I believed the center performed abortions rather than discouraging them. As I walked inside, my heart pounded out of my chest. I felt alone, ashamed, embarrassed, and afraid.

I met a counselor who immediately made me feel comfortable and safe. After telling her that I wanted an abortion, she described the process of fetal development. For the first time, I learned about the stages of life after conception. She also reviewed a brochure explaining abortion procedures, including the physical and emotional risks.

The counselor arranged an ultrasound appointment, where for the first time I saw my baby moving all over the screen, so full of life with a strong heartbeat. What made the deepest impression, though, was the counselor’s story of being pregnant at 17 and opting to keep her baby. She told me she had surrendered to the Lord, who had blessed her with new life.

At this time in life, I was a Christian only in the barest sense—which is to say, not really at all. When I was an infant, my maternal grandmother had implored a cowboy pastor in Arizona to dedicate me to the Lord. I attended a church camp in Prescott, Arizona, where I gave my life to Christ when I was nine. Although I never committed myself to following God, I had cried out to him many times while coming down from a drug high. Somehow, I still knew he was real and represented the father I had missed.

Finally, one night in December 2010, I was lying alone on the floor when I gave up, holding my Bible and crying out for forgiveness. God lifted the heavy weight of addiction off my shoulders. I entered the new year set free, a new creature in Christ. My life changed radically.

Since that time, I have never touched alcohol or drugs. Kirk also surrendered his life to Christ. Including Preslee, we have been blessed with five beautiful children.

I can never thank my pregnancy center sisters enough! They went far beyond giving me cartons of diapers and toilet paper, as essential as that was. In the end, they showed me how to become a godly wife and mother. It has been a joy and privilege to give my testimony at many pregnancy center banquets, on national speaking tours, and in churches.

While caring for our children, I’ve continued to support crisis pregnancy centers, where I help women struggling with unplanned pregnancies, abusive relationships, and addictions. My life may have been messy, but now I am a daughter of the King, forgiven and clean.

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