Luke's Should-Have-Been 9th Birthday

As Summer turns to Autumn and the leaves on the trees begin changing hues and the air gets a bit cooler, my heart remembers...

This is the time of year Luke Shiloh would be turning 9... Today was my due date...

Sometimes it feels like I have no right to feel or express my grief since it was a choice I made. But that is a lie and I share so other women and men carrying this regret are free to speak the truth. I share because of how prevalent this issue is.

How do I explain what October 1st means to me? How do I explain how this date means nothing at all and yet so many things? How February 6th stole what this day would have held. How October 1st will forever have a giant question mark hanging over it, as I imagine who my child would have been and how he would've looked.

A choice I made at 19 is now impacting 29-year-old me.

One choice erased 9th birthday parties and reminiscing over birth-day memories, memories of holding him for the first time, first holidays and first days of school.

My Luke Shiloh, you were but a vapor, silently blowing through the chambers of my soul, leaving me changed by the secret beating of your heart. A heart that beat for much too short a time. A heart that bequeathed my own as "mother."

The following is something I wrote in February a couple years ago, on the anniversary date of my abortion...

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I search my own heart, trying to somehow understand a decision I myself made.

On the outside, I know why I did.

When I discovered I was pregnant, panic and fear immediately gripped my heart and that dreadful word captured my thoughts: abortion. The culture told me it was my choice to decide whether or not I was ready to be a mother. I always knew I wanted to be one, but not then, not under the circumstances I was in. Not while I was still a single teenager. I assumed I could be a mother "when I was ready," as if it's easy to open or close that door. Now I wait, with one abortion in my past and one child in the grave, longing year after year for the opportunity to be a mother again.

I was convinced that abortion was my only solution, as if this was a problem that needed "fixing."

My mind was consumed with thoughts of the shame and humiliation that would come with telling my family and friends I was pregnant outside of marriage. I didn't want people to discover the lifestyle I was leading.

I didn't want to face the pain and sacrifice sure to come with choosing either parenting or adoption.

I didn't want my body to change from pregnancy.

I didn't want permanent ties to the baby's father.

I thought someone might never want to marry me if I had a kid already.

I didn't want my entire future as I thought it should be to be forever altered.

I had grown up in a Christian, pro-life family and had not given much thought to the complex intricacies of what could cause someone to choose abortion. After all, it had never affected me personally. Being pro-life is not hereditary.

I had planned on remaining a virgin until marriage. But somehow along the way, I had made one bad choice after another which took me to a place I never imagined I'd be. My beliefs got buried beneath the pressures and the temptations, buried beneath the longing to be loved, to be known, to be chosen. There are many reasons God has revealed over the years as to why and how.

Because I was "taking care of things" so early (I was only 6 weeks gestation), and because it was a pill I would be taking and not a surgical procedure, I thought it was "no big deal." I couldn't feel any movement yet, never heard the fast thump, thump, thump of my baby's heart beating, and my belly was not yet round. I convinced myself it wasn't really an abortion. I didn't consider the fact that in 34 weeks (or even much less), a fully-formed child would be ready for birth.

I found Planned Parenthood while searching the internet, called and made the appointment for that Friday morning, February 6th, 2009 - 8 years ago today.

I convinced myself it was a pregnancy, rather than a baby. But deep down, in a place I was afraid to even visit, I knew that I was already a mother. The tears I cried during that week are proof. As Anne of Green Gables would describe it, I was in the depths of despair.

That morning came and I had collected the $350 that it would take to stop that tiny heartbeat. I cringe at the thought. I firmly and wholeheartedly believe that had it not been legal and "my choice," and had an abortion not been so easily accessible, and praised even in this society, than I never would have sought one out. I know that I wouldn't have had a back-alley abortion. That's why I can't stand when people use that argument for why abortion should remain legal. We need to empower women to see they can choose life, while still pursuing their dreams.

I wish I had known that my child's heart had already begun beating. I wish I had seen that even though I was ending my pregnancy, I would never again not be a mother.

I wish I could tell you I didn't take the little RU486 pill that I thought would solve all my problems. I wish I could tell you I ran as far and as fast as I could from that clinic with my baby still alive.

But I can't.

February 6th will be etched into my memory forever. My child would be 8 this year. As Summer turns to Autumn and the leaves on the trees begin changing hues and the air gets a bit cooler, my heart remembers. He was due at the beginning of October...

After that February weekend in 2009, I thought I could forget the nightmare ever happened. I just wanted to get back to my "normal life." The pain quickly began catching up with me. The suffering was too great so I shut myself off, my heart turning cold. I drowned my inexpressible sorrow in drinking, partying, and dating a new guy. I so desperately wanted to fill that gaping wound in my heart.

I felt beyond repair, like there was no hope for me. I kept my mind constantly busy and occupied so I didn't have to face the things I so desperately wanted to escape.

I search my own heart to try to make sense of what happened. On this side of having gone through with an abortion, now 8 years later, the better part of a decade, all my reasoning and struggling to recall doesn't seem good enough. The reasons and explanations that sprang up out of my heart to justify ending a life seem shallow.

I convinced myself that somehow this page in the story of my life could be erased, torn out. That's what the deceiver whispered in my ear. But, now I see so clearly. It was a lie. And I was in such a place of vulnerability and desperation that I was willing, eager even, to believe it.

God has used this experience to give me a deeper compassion for others than I believe I could have ever had. I realize this could happen to anyone given the right, or shall I say wrong, circumstances.

I don't even recognize myself and can barely fathom that it was out of my own heart that I chose abortion. It doesn't feel like it could have been me. I don't even know that person who chose abortion.

As alone as I feel at times in loving and missing Lily, I feel even more so about Luke. But how could I expect others to miss him when I didn't even know him? How can I expect others to love him when I loved him too late?

This wasn't the end of the story... Just a few short months later, God's mercy and love would be demonstrated through another life planted within my womb. A life I did not deserve to be entrusted with. Redemption would be written all over her every cell.

Thomas Watson wrote, "Never do the flowers of grace grow more, than after a shower of repentant tears."

The dam of my damaged turned calloused heart had been stopped up until a little flower was planted, in my life, in my womb, in this world, bringing forth the repentance. And it's through that little flower named Lily that God's grace grew within my life and heart. It's through her that He brought healing from the choice to have an abortion. It's through the love He gave me for her that He opened up my heart to love Luke. In treasuring the sanctity of her life, He taught me to value the sanctity of my first baby's life and all life.

There have been some people who have asked me (some even assuming I feel this way), that God punished me for having an abortion with Lily's death. And to this I say, my God doesn't work that way. The blood of Jesus wiped out my abortion when I came to Jesus in repentance. Any child in the womb is a GIFT! Lily died, but the blessings of her life and legacy certainly are not a punishment. As I've written before, she is an eternal flower sent as an eternal gift from an eternal God. She is the farthest thing from a punishment and the fact that she is in Heaven is a comfort. Yes, I miss her and always will, but I have the peace and assurance at the core of my heart and soul that she was never meant to be a little girl of this world. She was called to a higher purpose.

Each February, I like to go back and read the book and watch the movie Tilly, which is about a mother who regrets having an abortion and dreams of Heaven where she meets her daughter and finds healing in the love and forgiveness of both Jesus and her daughter.

The last paragraph on the last page brings my eyes to tears and causes my heart to nod along in understanding: "And she would weep quietly, with this and with every new April {February}, for all the children who had no names and no parents, who still lived though never born. Most of all, she would weep for the little daughter {son} she never knew, and give whispered words to what she had always known: "Tilly {Luke}, I love you." But now her heart was at peace and that peace was hers to keep. She only wanted to remember. Just remember."

Honestly, this day is not one of shame, humiliation, and debilitating sorrow. But, it is one of remembrance. Remembering recognizes the sanctity of life and honors and celebrates Luke. Remembering is healthy and important.

One of my favorite musicians, Bethany Dillon (now Barnard) is releasing her first full-length record in almost a decade! It comes out in a few days and since I preordered it, I have access to the first couple songs. One of the songs is called "A Better Word," and it seems so appropriate to be listening to this song on repeat this month. I am singing this over my life and have so much comfort in the Lord.

Here are some of the lyrics (you simply must get the album!): "I hear the blood of Abel speak an accusation over me. I'm guilty and I am in need of mercy. You have broken the power of my sin. The curse I lived in has been reversed. The blood of Jesus is my provision. You have spoken a better word. Your blood speaks of the covenant for the both of us you have kept. Betrothed to You in faithfulness, I am redeemed.... No condemnation, I am free. The blood of Jesus speaks for me. The Lamb was slain, now I can sing a better word...." (see Hebrews 12:24)

Now when I look back at this page in my story, it isn't erased, no... but where the blood of my own child was shed because of my own choice, now I see the blood of Christ covering it.

This poem by John Piper powerfully articulates how a mother whose chosen abortion attempts to view the life of her unborn child as an "it":

I waited in my nausea,

Surrounded by stone-faced bourgeois

With rolls of twenty-dollar bills

In jacket pockets with their pills,

Funds from the ATM outside

The clinic door, because the guide,

Imbedded in the website said

"Cash only in advance." The dread

Concealed - as if I really read

The Mademoiselle - my eyes instead

Were staring at the vinyl floor,

So clean and cold, a wise decor

In case a mother's vomit soiled

The luster underfoot, and spoiled

This sterile place.

And then, all through the brief and mindless interview

And prep, they called my baby "it."

I tried to think that what God knit

In me was only "it." I gripped

For dear life every word - a script

To somehow make this life an "it."

But then, with legs still split

In clamps, I lifted up my head,

And saw there on the table, dead,

A tiny torso, not an "it," but "she,"

Destroyed, and with her, me.

************

I will end with this poem I wrote Luke:

First child of my womb,

Quietly you grew, hidden from all eyes.

Why didn't I choose Life?

Why did I believe the lies?

Flesh of my flesh,

My baby, forever you'll be.

I'm sorry I chose the wrong way.

I'm sorry I didn't SEE.

Your life was not wasted.

Valued and precious you are.

God is speaking mightily through you.

From my thoughts, you will never be far.

From darkness to light,

You will always be a part of the story.

Our Father in Heaven promises

To work all this together for His glory.

Your name means "light" and "peace,"

My precious little one.

That's what He's brought in all of this.

In Christ, the victory is won!

I promise to be your voice

Until my days on Earth are through.

I will never be silent

Until the time that I meet you.

In that moment, 

I will gaze upon your face.

I will hold you, kiss you, know you,

In awe of His great mercy and amazing grace.

Even then I know,

Your legacy will still live.

For He breathes beauty into this story,

And purpose He will continue to give.

I love you, my little Lukey.

Thank you for changing me.

Until we meet, my darling,

A forever part of me you'll be.

With all my might, I'll fight in your honor,

Until the battle for Life is won.

In my eyes and heart,

You will always be my son.

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You Made Me a Mother

First child of my womb.

First child of my heart.

It's been 9 years since you were here.

9 years since the only memories I have "of your life." Seeing Barack Obama get inaugurated. Watching the Super Bowl. Cold winter weeks. Nausea. Consuming fear. Gripping panic.

My sweet baby who was only here for a few short weeks.

You were but a vapor, silently blowing through the chambers of my soul, leaving me changed by the secret beating of your heart. A heart that beat for much too short a time. A heart that bequeathed my own as "mother." ❤️  #LukeShiloh #February6th #2009 #6weeks #iregretmyabortion #redemption #missyoualways #itsaforeverchoice #postabortionhealing

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Abortion and Miscarriage Grief

I've been seeing a lot of talk swirling around recently after Planned Parenthood shared a quote with an article that claims abortion is the same thing as miscarriage.

Grieving parents who've lost a baby through miscarriage or stillbirth are clearly and understandably upset because of the reality of the stark differences. One is a deliberate taking of life and the other is an unintentional loss of life. This is obviously different.

But as someone who has experienced both, I'm here to share my thoughts.

While the losses are undeniably different, the grief over the losses can be very much the same (I know this is not a popular statement) because each results in the loss of one's own child and all their lives would have held. Not everyone regrets their abortion, so I'm not talking about them. I'm referring to the millions of women (and men), who do regret their decision to end the life of their unborn baby.

In February 2009, I chose for a heartbeat to cease within my body at 6 weeks gestation, and a year later another heartbeat would cease within my body that wasn't my choice. A baby who grew big and strong until she was suddenly lost 2 days past her due date. Both hearts beat on in Eternity. Both hearts changed mine. The ceasing of one left me with regret while the ceasing of the other left me with peace. The difference being the surrender to God's will.

As alone as I feel at times in loving and missing Lily, I feel even more so about Luke. I wonder how could I expect others to miss him when I didn't even know him? How could I expect others to love him when I loved him too late?

I feel like a fraud and a phony, when I know others believe I have no reason or right to grieve. After all, it was a choice I made. Some of the same people that validate my grieving Lily believe my grieving Luke is invalid. There are the rare friends who honor and remember Luke alongside me as well.

Doesn't regret flow out of choices that we wish we could re-do? Why do we have grace for other forms of regret, but not for this?

Once post-abortive women and men come to understand the depth of the painful reality of their choice, the last thing they need is further condemnation piled on top of them. What they need is compassion, love, grace, and mercy. Just as Christ has given each and every one of us.

Would we rather women not regret their abortions? We should be grateful for the empowerment of the witness of those who have awakened to the truth of the wrong they have done. Who better to testify to the ravages of abortion than those who have been through it?

Our compassion should be fueled by taking into consideration the confusion created by abortion being sanctioned by the law and by much of society. After all, if it's legal, it must be right and good. Living in a nation that constantly bombards us with messages of "choice," "rights" and "look our for number one," why should we be shocked when people actually live by these all-pervasive messages?

When we deny women the right to grieve, we are saying that that child's life who was aborted didn't really matter. Does that life not deserve to be grieved and acknowledged? Do the sins of the parents wipe out the validity and sanctity of the aborted child?

We fight for life and say we value it, yet why don't we give room and grace to those who've lost a baby in any way? Why do we silence these women and men and want them to "move on" without pause? Why do we tell them they can have another baby as if that somehow makes it okay that this baby died?

Unashamedly I say that both my babies lives matter. I grieve the loss of both of them. I have two children and no lack of understanding from others will change that truth.

It was a gift the Lord gave me when He opened up my heart to love both Lily and Luke as much as I do. And because of how much I love them, I miss them with that same great measure. The grief, in turn, is also a gift, for even that points to the sanctity of their lives and each life, no matter how brief! The agony of regret and guilt adds another dimension to the complicated grief over Luke.

As I've processed my abortion experience and pain over the past almost 9 years, I've grown to have grace and compassion for 19-year-old me, who chose to have an abortion. At that age, I convinced myself that somehow this page in the story of my life could be erased, torn out. That's what the deceiver whispered in my ear. But, now I see so clearly. It was a lie. And I was in such a place of vulnerability and desperation that I was willing, eager even, to believe it.

I realize this could happen to anyone given the right, or shall I say wrong, circumstances. I pray you will remember the same next time you come across a woman who is grieving her child lost through abortion.

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Evidence of His Life...

For more than two years, I have been wanting to go to the Planned Parenthood where I had my abortion to get my records, in hopes of finding out more information about my first baby and really hoping for an ultrasound photo. I was nervous/anxious/scared to call because I didn't know what to say and I didn't know what they would say. A friend of mine greatly encouraged me and gave me boldness to step out and take that first step in calling them. She shared with me what I should say and that helped a lot. So, I called and said I'd be in town this week and wanted to stop by to get my records. I had no idea whether they'd have an ultrasound photo or not...I mean, I remember getting an ultrasound, but don't recall them printing anything off. I think part of the reason I put it off for so long is because I was scared they wouldn't have one and that would break my heart. I wanted to go in person, rather than dealing with it all by mail, because I knew I would have to show my I.D. and sign some paperwork (by mail it is much more complicated). And I also wanted to be sure they didn't leave out any of my records (specifically my ultrasound images). I felt like it was something that I needed to face in person.

I went to Planned Parenthood this afternoon (December 29th) and asked for my records and said I wanted any ultrasound photos that they might have. My friend told me they usually leave this out when women ask for their records unless you specifically ask for them. The girl looked at me strangely and I could tell she was uncomfortable. I was shaking and so nervous, but prayed for courage and the words to say. The Lord gave me confidence. I was waiting in anticipation to see if they had any photos and I saw her go over to the copy machine. I was so happy! Then, I asked if I could have the original copy and that's when the woman who had counseled me (the manager) when I had my abortion came into the room...she had pulled in right after me. I see that was God's perfect timing. I had almost come a different day and then a different time that day. She said they have to keep the original on file for 10 years and I asked if I could have them before they throw them away and she said nobody has ever asked her that and that she'd have to check for me. Then, she said, "Why do you want them?" She looked alarmed at first and asked if I needed to see somebody about this and I said, "No, the Lord has brought me total healing, but having this photo is very important to me to grieve healthily and honor his life." I felt that was my open door to share a shortened version of my testimony with her...with the very woman who counseled me when I had my abortion! I even mentioned my blog and she wrote it down and said she wanted to read it. The Lord truly put the words in my mouth and it was beautiful to feel His presence there with me. It was very difficult to go back in there after all this time. Then she said she is going to ask if I can have the original copy now, without waiting 7 more years! I truly feel this is a gift from God to have this ultrasound photo...it's another step in this journey of healing and grieving the loss of this precious life. Now, I believe it is time to name this child and respect his life in that way. I also plan on getting a name plate for him (I've always felt this baby is a boy, just as I knew Lily was a girl from the beginning) at the National Memorial for the Unborn in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I went there last year on Mother's Day (so special!) and it really is such a sacred place. I am also going to get a brick in the garden dedicated to stillborn and miscarried babies for my daughter, Lily Katherine. It's the only place on earth that is in honor of both my babies at once! 

I am greatly inspired to get a memory box together for my baby (something I've wanted to do for a long time as well, but feel it is time now). My first child who matters deeply to me and to God. My first child who I will openly grieve the loss of. My first child who deserves a name and will receive one. My first child, who I just found out today was due on October 1st, 2009 (what a gift in knowing)... My first child, who should be over two years old today. Today, I am so thankful to have this gift, this ultrasound photo...evidence of my first child's life...

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