Changes and Goodbyes

When I last blogged, I was a work-at-home wife, mom to 3, step-mom to 4, and a step-Granny to 2. Today I work full time outside of the house, and my marriage has been over for 10 months. My daughters and I are healing slowly, and I'm excited about what the Lord has ahead of us. I'm happy that I am free to be myself, but do I even know who that is?

I'll have to remove some of the precious family pictures that pattern my wall here. It's not because I don't love them or consider them my family anymore. They came with their father, and I can't keep them for myself. They love their father and they will be loyal to him, and I understand.

I know the Lord has never left me. I know His plans are better than ours. He has answered all my prayers, and all the changes that have come to pass are the results of those answers. He has proven Himself to me over and over again, although He never had to. His love amazes me, and I'm just going to keep trusting Him.

Sharing My Secret

In 1982 I was 16 years old and thought I knew everything. I had a deceased father and my mother was caught up in her own struggles against sin. I was a recreational drug and alcohol user. Above all, I was in bondage to fear and insecurity in every area of my life. I used a boyfriend to escape the realities of my family. I thought I was mature enough to have sex as long as I prevented pregnancy. But ultimately I lost control and got pregnant in spite of my great wisdom.

There were many logical reasons that I chose to have an abortion. They were financial, emotional, and prideful reasons. I was afraid my high school and college education would be interrupted. I knew I could not raise and support a child. I was afraid everyone would think badly of me. I was old enough to have sex but too young to be a mother. I thought I had to have an abortion so that I could undo the mistake I made by getting pregnant.

And I kept denying the fact that I was even pregnant. I would not think of a baby being inside me. I refused to accept it, until I faced the doctor and he told me the test was positive and he could feel that my uterus was enlarged. I was told that 'it' was only tissue and that I could undo this whole confusing and fearful mess with a simple medical procedure. I accepted that lie because it was what I wanted to hear.

I recall very clearly most of the events of that day, even though I tried to forget for years. The man who molested me when I was a child took me to the clinic. He was the only one who assured me I was making the right choice. I wept uncontrollably from the time I walked into the clinic, so they separated me from the rest of the women there, so as not to upset them. I did not understand then that my soul was mourning because my brain would not accept the truth. Isolated in that room, I watched a video of a pretty young lady who had the same 'condition' as I. They depicted her as a carefree person who was ready to hop up on the table and have all her problems solved. She nearly bounced up afterwards and cheerfully went back to her life as though everything were ok. But the video did not portray the truth. It did not tell me of the wounds that were inflicted as my womb was opened to destroy the life that God created. Nor did it describe the horrible sound of the machine that removed the remains of his body from mine. There was no warning that I would immediately have a higher risk of miscarriages, breast cancer, infertility, anger, bitterness, depression, drug and/or alcohol abuse, and emotional deadening. The video did not prepare me for wondering what my son's life would have been every year on the anniversary of his death.

I was never better or even the same after the 'procedure'. I tried to pretend that I did not hate myself for it. I tried to contain the anger, but it burst out for many years afterwards. I took it out on my husband, children, other family, and friends. I wanted my life to be good, I tried to control everything and justify the great lengths that I had gone to that day to make my life good.

The day I had my abortion I was traumatized. The trauma had tentacles that affected decisions, behaviors, and many areas of my life. Although I did not recognize it at the time, I became frozen, locked into a pattern of trying to control everything and make my life what I wanted. I sought pleasure and safety in every person and place except God. I refused to submit to Him because I believed He was only an observer of my life but was not interested in who I was or what I was doing to myself. I did not believe that He was able and willing to protect me. I thought He was not directly involved in my life because He was busy with the perfect people. I thought He didn't care what I did. I thought He put me here to fend for myself.

Because I buried the horrors of that day I remained in captivity to the trauma. It was a losing battle, until I accepted Christ. When I spoke my vow and accepted Him as Lord and Savior, I felt that He technically had to forgive me because the Bible said so, but that He didn't really care about me anymore. The enemy of my soul still had me convinced that God did not love me as much as His other children, because of what I had done. I was convinced that I was not allowed to receive all the blessings He promised me in the Bible: peace, joy, wholeness, and healing.

My healing began when I talked to God about my abortion. He peeled away the layers of lies that I had accepted. I walked step-by-step through a healing process

Pages, Pictures, Words, and Ink

Dear Father in Heaven, 
In my mind, I see my life as a book that is still being written. Sometimes I turn the pages back and glance at the old days. I hardly recognize myself...page 44 is vastly different from page 21. How alone and unsatisfied I felt then. I was so worldly and selfish that it embarrasses me to think about it now. I tried to make my life what I wanted it to be. I tried to create myself. I don't see many pretty pictures there, so I flip. When I reach page 17 I see weakness, misery and emptiness. Then I turn back still further to page 10, when my life changed at the death of my earthly father. I remember the sadness of that loss.I realize that fear is on nearly every page, beginning at 4...woven into every story until page 33.  
But I look closer at the pages and I really focus. I begin to see another layer of ink between the lines-slowly appearing in the empty spaces. It's Your handwriting, not mine. As I turn again from pages 1 through 44, I see that although I pushed your pencil many times, You still wrote what You wanted for me. The word Victory is clearly defined. You knit me, You named me. You never forsook me, You didn't glance away and let me fall off a cliff. You were actively working to bring me to You. You sifted me, You molded me. You loved me, You love me. I thank You for what You have already written for me that I haven't seen yet...it makes my heart quiver to think about the wonders ahead!!!

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1.03.01

Healing (Shame 7)

I stayed on a merry-go-round of sin and confusion and rebelliousness for many years afterward. I tried to control my life and get all the things I wanted, but without God's guidance I kept choosing the wrong things. I was empty all the time, but was too blind to see it. I came slowly around to God, but it took great patience and grace on His part.

He eventually sent me and my husband to a Biblical counselor, and my abortion was one of the first things God wanted to confront with me. "MM" (our counselor) loaned me a book entitled "Post-Abortion Trauma: Nine Steps to Recovery" by Jeanette Vought. As God spoke to me through this counseling and the book, I faced myself. I saw Michelle in God's eyes and recognized what my abortion had done to my son, myself, the father, and our families. I went through the steps, answered the hard questions about my actions and choice, and relived all the pain in order to heal. God carried me through all of it, because I asked Him to and I trusted Him. I acknowledged what I had done, confessed and repented and laid my sin at the foot of His Cross, and He forgave me. It was a healing process that took several weeks, and the enemy kept trying to drag me back into a pit of condemnation. I continued praying and talking to God about it, and trusting Him to heal me, but it was hard.

One night I had a vivid dream. It began as a beautiful extraordinary blue…like no other color I have ever seen. It was as though I was suspended inside of the blue as it swam before and around me like water. I felt peace, pleasure; happiness there in the blue as it moved and sparkled. Then I was pulled slowly away as a camera pulls back from a close up. The blue became smaller and I recognized it as an eye, then two. Then in slow motion the nose and mouth and face came into view. I saw a baby boy with the whitest blond hair that fell at his shoulders in little curls that lifted up. He had porcelain skin, and he was seated with his body turned away from me. The seat that held him was the enormous hand of my Heavenly Father. Joshua looked at me and smiled the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, then turned back to face God and play giggle games with Him. Joshua's right hand was raised and fisted playfully as he moved it and tried to catch something. I could feel delight between the two of them. The bubbling sound of his laughter finally erased the noise of the machine from my ears. I laughed with him and at him and I kept moving farther away but I didn't want to. I woke up, and my heart was full.

I will always thank God for that dream; the vision of my son in His hand. I know that in spite of me my son is thriving in Heaven. I thank God for His love and forgiveness and mercy and grace. He has given me a measure of joy that I cannot describe. I have been told that my joy is visible to people, but I don't know if they understand or even believe it is true. How can I not celebrate and worship and smile and laugh? I have been redeemed, saved, and forgiven for breaking every one of His Commandments, and He still loves me. His own Son willingly died for me, because He knew that if He did not I would spend eternity in torment. I am wretched and stained with sin and He has covered me in His Righteousness. I am not more special than anyone else; He just makes me feel that way with the gift of His love. I have hope and He has told me that I will worship Him forever, and He never lies to anyone. I cling to the truth of God as if my life depends on it, because it does.

Shame 6 (Wounding my Soul)

We arrived at the clinic and I was surprised by its appearance. It was just an ordinary building, but there was an oppression that I felt there. I was not spiritually awake enough then to understand it. He signed me in and we sat for maybe 5 minutes. They asked PK if he wanted to pay extra to have me knocked out but it was too much money. He told me call him when I was done and he would pick me up, then left. I tried to keep my tears to myself, but they were too deep…I seemed to have no ability to control them. Undoubtedly I was making everyone uncomfortable, so they moved me to a room in the back where I was left alone to watch a video. The video was a pretty young lady who had a "condition". She checked into the clinic as though it was a hotel, laid on a table, then happily skipped away…free from the consequences of her choices. 

As in the pregnancy clinic in Galveston, I moved from one room to another…lab, ultrasound, exam room, social worker. I was terrified, selfish, alone, desperate, and in despair. I wanted the fear to be gone, and I thought this was my only choice. Finally I was moved into the room where the procedure would be performed. As my soul mourned and I could not stop the tears, a counselor was brought in to calm me down. She held my hand and whispered soothing words to me so that I could not hear the other sounds in the room. But I heard everything anyway. The doctor assumed I was crying because I was afraid of the procedure, so he attempted to help me by explaining each step as he went. Comprehension came with every word from him…too late to stop it as my child was murdered in my womb, then removed. Above me on the ceiling was a picture of a kitten hanging from a limb by one paw…urging me to hang on. I focused on that picture and on the counselor's voice, and after an eternity it was finished and I was moved into a recovery area. I was relieved it was over, but something was different. I was finally able to stop the tears but my heart was sore, and I felt disgust for myself. I cannot pinpoint the moment, but it dawned on me that I had carried a son. I didn't know how I knew that, but it was a truth that resounded in me.


PK picked me up and began to make conversation with me as he drove, but I began to vomit. I could not get the hatred out of me. When I finally arrived at Cheri's, I was able to tell her enough. She and her family treated me like their own…I never felt more loved by them. I put on my mask and tried to pretend I was the girl on the video, not just that day but for many years afterward. I wanted to bury it and pretend it had never happened, but at the same time I wanted to justify my choice to myself.


What is clear to me now is that all of the things I hoped to prevent by having an abortion came to pass anyway. My family and close friends found out and were ashamed of me, and my future was forever changed. I did go on to college, but the wounds to my soul from that day stopped me from walking the path that I thought was ahead of me. The enemy of my soul tempted me to abortion with happiness, prosperity, and peace, and I accepted what he offered, but it was all a LIE. I didn't get anything he offered me.

Shame 5

When I told my mother, she took it fairly well. When she got pregnant with me as an unwed mother, I think she felt rejected by some of her family. So she went above and beyond to show me love and acceptance at this time. I never really asked her what to do, I just presented the financial, educational, and marriage arguments and told her I had already made up my mind. She offered many times to figure out a way to make it work if I wanted to have the baby, but I refused to consider it. Once I told her what I wanted, she had to help me figure out how to get it done. I placed an unfair burden on her.

So we went to the clinic and the pregnancy test confirmed what I already knew. I remember the doctor said he could already feel that my uterus was growing. We passed from one room to another for paperwork, lab, exam, nurse, and social worker, as the stress mounted at every stop. In the last office we were denied financial aid as Mom made too much money. That caused her to explode and me to cry. What a mess I had created.

We went home in despair, and Mom told the stepfather, "LP". She called my father's mother and asked to borrow money, but was told no. Finally she called her own mother and stepfather, telling them all of what I had so desperately wanted to keep secret. I didn't talk to any of them myself, but the impression I got was that Grandma was horrified and Grandpa was completely supportive. Of all the people in my family, the only one who was willing to help me get what I wanted was the same man who molested me as a child. His view of the matter was exactly what I wanted to hear…no guilt; just an easy medical procedure and a few hundred dollars and I would get a "do-over".

The plan was for me to fly to Dallas for the Thanksgiving holiday and get it done. I missed my BFF Cheri and needed her, and all I could think about was going home. I was still furious that Mom and "LP" had moved us 6 hours from our home in Ft Worth to Galveston the year before. I hated going to a new school and missed the friends I had grown up with. I just wanted to go home and escape the situation I was in. I fixed my heart on home and thought if I could only get there everything else would be ok.

The ride to the Houston airport that day was surreal. Mom was so tender with me and we talked about our lives and the world and growing up. I finally got up enough nerve to ask her the question that had stayed buried for the last few years. I asked her if "Daddy" was really my daddy, and she told me that he wasn't. He was killed a few years before in a work-related accident, so Mom had to hire a lawyer for top secret legal stuff that I was too young to be told about. One day I found a piece of paper that said he (OC) had given me his name although I was not his. In spite of the fact that I already knew deep in my heart, I was shocked by the confirmation. What I felt was betrayal, because in that moment I understood that my entire adult family had lied to me my whole life. I kept a brave face on until I got on the plane, then I cried quietly through the flight. My soul began to mourn in a way that I did not even understand.

As I got off the plane and entered the airport, I saw my grandpa immediately. He waved me to hurry and as we walked to the baggage claim he explained that he had already made an appointment and we were going straight to the clinic for the abortion. I was terrified…I tried to tell him I wanted to go to Cheri first, but he said I had to get it over with. I wanted to call her, but he said there was no time. I stopped arguing and cried as he drove.

Shame 4

Being pregnant doesn't fit my plan. I have to finish high school. I am too young and my future is too bright. Everyone will think I am an idiot. All the people who think I am nobody will be right. I'm not ready to get married, and I can't take care of a baby by myself. I can't tell Mom or anyone, because I am ashamed. I knew what I was doing, and I thought I was too smart to get pregnant. I can't think about this today. I'm just gonna wait and see…maybe I'm not really pregnant…maybe I'll get my period…maybe I'll have a miscarriage…maybe no one else will ever have to know. I can't think about this right now anyway. I am afraid…this is my worst nightmare come true. This can't be happening.

This is the merry-go-round that I have spun on for about 6 weeks.

Finally I have accepted the fact that I am pregnant. Even though I have not had a pregnancy test, I know it is true. My body is doing strange things. I am terrified. Oh, my God, what am I going to do??? Why me? Isn't my life screwed up enough without THIS? If only I hadn't gotten pregnant. If only I could undo this. If this would just go away, no one would ever have to know my shame. I can't think about this today…it's too hard. What am I going to do? It's just one stupid mistake. This is going to ruin my life. I can't let this ruin my life.

OK, I have made up my mind. I can have an abortion and this fear and worry will all be gone. I won't have to tell anyone, and my life will not be wrecked. I can undo this…it's legal, and lots of women do it all the time. If it was wrong then no one would do it, right? It's ok if I do it because I am important, right? This is the only way I can have what I want. This is the only answer. This is the most logical thing to do. But isn't it a life?

Shame 3

(Continued, age 16)

So my life plan is to go to college and become a choir teacher. I will find a perfect man one day and he will ask me to marry him. We will live happily ever after in prosperity. We will have perfect kids who will require no effort to raise. I am not going to get divorced like my mother and father, and I will never make any bad choices that hurt them or make them afraid. I will not let them be hurt, and they will never be dressed like a poor kid. No one will ridicule them and they will be popular in school. I am smart and I have it all figured out.

We live in an apartment complex on the Island. It has nasty carpet that too many feet have walked on before us, and roaches. My mother is an obsessive housekeeper, so the rest of the place is clean. We just stay off of the carpet and protect our food from the roaches. My sister and I share a tiny bedroom, and we fight about everything. Mom and step dad "LP" irritate me, so I try to avoid them. I am passing the time until adulthood. Every day I find something to look forward to, and if nothing exciting is planned, I will make something happen. I hang out with anyone who accepts me.

Once I met a guy (L) with blond hair, blue eyes, dark tan, and gorgeous smile. He is my age but he quit school, and works as a roofer. I think he is cool because he works and makes money and is close to being independent. He smokes and drinks and has a yellow Fender Stratocaster. He dreams of playing guitar with Stevie Ray Vaughn. His parents are older, and he lives with them, but they don't tell him what to do. They let me stay at their house a lot, so I don't have to see my family unless I want to. I don't see him as the man I will one day marry, but I love him in some way. I ride my bicycle back and forth from my house to his. We smoke dope a lot and eat, so I am afraid of getting fat. My friend from school usually gives me a couple of hits of speed in the mornings, so I can stay awake and skip meals. L and I are together for over a year before I get pregnant.

Shame 2

I am 16 years old, and I live with my mother, sister, and stepfather. My mother is married to a man I detest. If I were to begin the list of reasons this story would take another turn, and I must stay on task. I am angry at my mother because I don’t trust the decisions she makes for me. I am angry at my sister because she is never pleasant and only finds delight in tormenting me. I am angry at my stepfather because he is a pervert. I am afraid.

The only place I find any form of happiness is in the choir room at school, or on the stage rehearsing with the drama students. Singing has always taken me away from my problems. For me, singing is a treasure that God gave me to survive this world.

As much as I love singing and music of any kind, it is not enough. I still search for acceptance, validation, protection, safety, love. I live in fear of so many things: rejection, ridicule, abandonment, death, pain, homelessness, starvation. I think I need to find the right man to provide for me and keep me safe from all my fears. I think I am not pretty enough, because no one ever asks me out.

I am not good enough to have all the things other girls my age have, like normal parents, a boyfriend, good clothes and shoes, etc. I can’t wait to become a legal adult, so I can go get all the things I am supposed to have. My mom can’t do it, so I will just have to take care of myself. Everyone tells me I have a bright future ahead of me. My bright future is going to make me rich and happy and I am gonna buy all the things I want and cannot have now. I am going to prove to everyone who does not care about me that I never really needed them and they never hurt me.

(To be continued…)

Shame 1

Today I am beginning a series of posts about my 16 year old self. For the most part I am writing from my perspective at that time. Some of the things I used to think sound so selfish and bitter now, and I hope you will understand that is not who I am today. I have a long story to tell and God put it on me to share it. I really didn't want to, because I knew I would have to remember things that hurt. I love it and hate it when He pushes me out of my comfort zone. He knows that I need it, and I trust Him, so here I go. My wish would be that this ugly story would bless you somehow and change a life.

November 1982

How did I get here? As I ponder the timeline of my life, I wonder if there is a specific day I can label as the starting point of this torment. There are so many possibilities. Maybe it was the day I met him. Or the day I had sex with him. Is it the day my family moved to Galveston? Or the day my mother divorced my stepfather? Maybe it was the day she brought another man home. Or was it the day that my father died? It might have been a day when I was feeling rejected by my grandmother. Or any of the days we didn’t know where mom was and why we couldn’t see her. Or the day my sister and I moved in with my grandparents? Was it the day my mother divorced my dad? Did it begin when I was being molested? Or maybe it was the day I was born. It could have been the day God knit me in my mother’s womb. Was this written before I was physically manifested? Surely God knew what I would do long before I could form a thought.