I was almost 17 years old in 1987 when I found out that I had become pregnant. I was too scared to tell my mum, as Dad had died around six months before and I felt she had enough on her plate. I shared the news with my boyfriend, and he left the decision to me about what to do. I also confided in a lady I worked with at the time. She went and spoke to my boss, and I remember him saying, ‘You’ll be the death of your mother.’
This exaggerated the fear I was already carrying, and I felt even less able to talk to my mum. Looking back now, I realise no one even suggested I do this; conversations were just focused on the ‘problem’ that needed ‘sorting’. A pregnancy test was arranged where I found I was 10 weeks pregnant, and around a week later a private abortion was booked by my boss in the Birmingham area. If only I knew then the facts or if just one person had spoken up in favour of life!
‘What have you done?’
Sadly, I have never been able to remember where or when exactly I had my abortion. I think the trauma blocked it out; I just know it was a private clinic to which I travelled by coach. I was in a room with lots of beds, and one by one we were wheeled out. I remember having an injection and being told to count backwards, and the next thing I knew I was back on the ward. When I woke, the first thing that came to my mind was, ‘Judi, what have you done?’ (The same question God asked Eve in Genesis 3:13, to which she replied, ‘The serpent deceived me and I ate of it.’) The reality of what I’d done hit me suddenly, but I couldn’t cope with the magnitude of it. When a lady next to me asked if I was okay, I lied and said yes.
From then on I had to suppress every emotion in order to cope, and I tried to carry on as normal. But in truth, nothing was normal any more; everything had changed. I split with my boyfriend shortly after my abortion, and because my abortion had been private rather than through the NHS, I had to pay back my boss for the killing of my baby through working extra hours.
The fruit of that abortion was guilt, shame, self-hatred, and damaged relationships. I had to suppress every emotion. The fear I had that led me to abort Jesse silenced me. The fear of my mum finding out I was pregnant, the fear of her finding out I had aborted her grandchild. The promise of what was portrayed as a ‘problem’ that could be ‘sorted’ brought no relief.
As I look back, I realise the impact of this one decision was huge. I moved away from home to do seasonal work, and I began drinking too much to numb the feelings of guilt and shame I carried. I placed no value in myself, and I found it difficult even to have conversations with people. Eventually, I got used to this burden, and in a way it became normal to carry it. Over the years I just pushed it down to protect myself from the reality of what I had done.
Forgiveness
One day in 2007, I heard the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ shared during a course about Christianity for enquirers. I was profoundly affected. I confessed my sin of abortion privately to the Lord and experienced an overwhelming sense of his presence and love alongside the lifting of my burden of guilt. A week later I experienced an infilling of joy like I’d never had before; I knew I was forgiven.
For the next couple of years I would wake up every day thinking of Jesus, which I know was the work of the Holy Spirit. In 2009 I was invited to a local church, where during a prayer meeting the issue of abortion came up. Silence descended on the room, and I found myself battling with a sense of condemnation and a fear of others finding out. I would fold up inside when I heard the word abortion. This hit me hard, and I felt condemned again and unable to speak.
The Lord, however, gently helped me through different ways, mainly his Word. John 3:16 and Micah 7:18-19 were precious passages. I knew I was forgiven – Romans 5:6-11; I knew I was loved – Psalm 51. Jesus died for my sins, and through my repentance and God’s forgiveness – even for blood guiltiness – a peace returned to me, reminding me that I was indeed forgiven, loved, and free. I felt God prompting me to speak with my mother. She proved to be very gracious, saying she wished I’d told her at the time.
CBR-UK
I was then introduced to the Centre for Bio-Ethical Reform UK (CBR-UK) by my pastor, who had spoken about abortion. I was also introduced to PASE (Post Abortion Support for Everyone). I went on the recovery course, talking with other bereaved mothers who had also had abortions.
I listened to their heartbreaking stories and the lies they had believed. I realised how post-abortion stress, caused by the death of our own children in our wombs, had impacted all of our lives. We had all carried shame, guilt, and regret, yet here we could safely grieve the loss of our babies. It was very Christ-centred, and we prayed for one another. The Holy Spirit ministered to us through the Scriptures.
During this time I believe God gave me a name for my baby, which is ‘Jesse’ (‘God beholds’). I write this today as a tribute to Jesse. I can give thanks to God and rejoice in his great mercy and kindness: the blood of Jesus is able to cleanse us from blood guiltiness.
Beware of fear
Fear plays a big part in abortion, both before and after. In the midst of a crisis pregnancy, fear can cloud your decision making. It seems like keeping your baby is just impossible, but then afterwards you dread facing up to the full reality of what you’ve done. The abortion industry denies post-abortive stress, but then they also deny that my baby was a real little human, a fact backed up by science.
Whether you’re in a crisis pregnancy or you’re hurting after an abortion, don’t listen to the voice of fear. I let fear rule me for too long, and I know now how it held me captive. Listen to those who are not afraid to share the truth of what abortion is, but do so in the love of Christ, without a spirit of condemnation.
