Devotional

There’s a part of my story that still takes courage to put into words. I had an abortion. I wanted my baby. Those two truths belong to the same part of my life. For years, I struggled to hold them together.

In high school, I wrote a report about Roe v. Wade and defended the lives of unborn children. I believed deeply in what I was writing. Years later, I found myself facing a pregnancy, frightened and vulnerable, living inside a situation I’d once considered from a distance. I’d just graduated from college. I wanted to begin my career, but I also wanted to keep my baby.

My boyfriend didn’t. He threatened to leave me if I continued the pregnancy. I wanted his love and support. Instead, I was facing the fear of losing him at a time when I needed someone beside me. I can tell the truth about the decision I regret and the pressure I faced.

He found a place in the Yellow Pages that performed abortions. I remember walking toward it and passing people who were there to speak for the lives of unborn children. I’d once spoken for those lives, too. One person said gently, “You don’t have to do this, honey.” Even now, I remember those words. With every step, I was breaking a little more.

I went through with the abortion. The grief stayed with me year after year. I stayed with my boyfriend. He promised me we’d have a child in the future. Eventually, I married him.

During an argument, he told me I’d “thrown my baby in the garbage.” The person who’d pressured me to end the pregnancy was now using that loss to hurt me. Those words were part of the emotional abuse I experienced in that relationship. They deepened a grief I was already carrying. My regret didn’t mean I deserved that cruelty.

I write about this in Unshaken, but putting it in a book doesn’t make it easy to say. This was my baby. I wanted my baby, and I’ve lived with the pain of what happened.

For a long time, receiving God’s forgiveness felt difficult. I could remember the decision so clearly. I could replay the words that were said. I could return to that grief again and again. Learning to receive His grace in that place took time.

Psalm 34:18 says the Lord is close to the brokenhearted. That promise speaks directly to the part of me that still grieves. I can bring Him the whole truth: what I wanted, what I feared, the pressure I faced, and the regret I carried afterward.

Receiving His forgiveness hasn’t erased the memory or my love for my baby. It’s helped me face that memory with compassion and grief. Support and professional care have also been part of my healing. I can regret what happened and have compassion for the frightened young woman I was. I can grieve my baby and still receive God’s love.

I’m not going to sugarcoat my past for anyone. There were points in my life when I was lost and made decisions I deeply regret. But Jesus found me again. He brought me out of that darkness and taught me how to share the story I once carried in shame so someone else could know they’re not alone.

We serve an awesome God who offers forgiveness for the decisions we can barely bring ourselves to name and welcomes us back into His arms. I’ve needed that mercy myself.

Even as I write these words, I’m crying. I still grieve for my baby. I don’t know whether that pain will ever fully go away. I can feel it even as I see the purpose God’s bringing into my life.

If you’ve had an abortion and carry a grief you rarely speak about, I hope you hear this: it’s not too late to receive God’s love and grace. You can bring this part of your story to Him. You can also share it with someone safe who’ll listen with compassion and help you find support.

I can’t go back and change what happened. I can honor my grief and let God use my voice to reach someone who’s carrying a similar pain.

The pain may never fully go away, but the purpose speaks volumes.

Reflection

What would it look like to bring your grief and regret before God honestly, while offering yourself the compassion you’d offer someone you love?

Prayer

Father,

You know my love for my baby and the grief I still carry. You know what I wanted, what I feared, and the pressure I faced. Help me bring all of it to You. Meet me in the memories that still hurt, and help me receive Your forgiveness with an open heart. For anyone reading this who carries grief after an abortion, surround them with compassion and people they can trust. Give them courage to speak when they’re ready and receive the support they need. Thank You for meeting me in this part of my story. Use my words to help someone else know they’re not alone. In Jesus’ name, Amen.