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22 Days for 22 Years

I wrote this series leading up to my first journey to the March for Life in Washington DC in 2014. The series is not only about my anticipation of participating in such a monumental national event, but the journey through the years it took me to be ready for such a journey, and to prepare my family to support me on such a journey. One might not think that anyone who’s actually had an abortion would go to such lengths and march against it. But we are in the crowd nonetheless. Here’s my story as to why.

#13 – A Jury of My Peers

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#13 – A Jury of My Peers

I’m off to jury duty this morning, my first time ever! I’ve been wanting to get summoned for so long, I began to wonder if my name had gotten lost somehow. As I prepare to experience this civic duty, which I understand may result in my sitting and waiting and being dismissed for a multitude of reasons, I am glad to finally experience it anyway. And it’s getting me thinking too, about the jury of my peers, you the readers. As Sanctity of Human Life Sunday on January 22 approaches, I’m beginning to ponder the purpose of...

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#12 – “You did abortion? WHY?”

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#12 – “You did abortion? WHY?”

I knew I would be telling my son about my abortion at a younger age than I had told my girls when they were twelve and eleven. He was only eight, but ever since I began working at a crisis pregnancy center and explaining to him what abortion is and about my job of counseling people who were considering it or had already done it, he had some beyond-his-years understanding of it and questions about it. I have also come a long way since my daughter first asked me if she was the first baby in my belly, and I had instinctively lied to her. By the...

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#11 – “Would I Still Be Here?”

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#11 – “Would I Still Be Here?”

Telling my middle child about my abortion brought some emotions I wasn’t expecting. I wasn’t planning on this coming up so soon, but when I was asked to share my story before our church congregation on Sanctity of Human Life Sunday a few years ago I knew that I couldn’t agree until my daughter knew my story. I certainly didn’t want her to learn of it from anyone but me. With only a week to prepare and my family’s busy schedule, I wasn’t able to bring her out to the retreat site like I had done with her...

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#10 – “I Was First, Right?”

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#10 – “I Was First, Right?”

My oldest daughter had been asking me since she was 2 ½ years old, ever since her little sister was born, if she was the first baby in my belly. Actually, she didn’t ask it in true question form, it was more of a confirmation request, like, “I was the first baby in your belly, right Mom?” I could tell that she took pride in this false rank. When she first asked me this question all those years ago I was dumbstruck. I reacted instinctively and quickly lied, “Yes, honey. You were the first baby in my belly.” And...

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#9 – Where is Your Fear Gauge?

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#9 – Where is Your Fear Gauge?

I’ve been told that I’m brave for sharing my abortion story. I never used to be this way. I used to be an expert at ambivalence, guarding my emotions whenever the topic of abortion came up so that no one would suspect that I had any feelings toward the topic whatsoever, let alone to give any hint that I had had an abortion myself. I even coached my husband once on keeping his feelings on abortion to himself, explaining to him that having any vocal viewpoint on abortion, whether good or bad, would lead people to conclude that he had...

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#8 – How Many Breaths?

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#8 – How Many Breaths?

I’m not a poet. But I wrote this very rough poem about my dad’s last night here on Earth, which was exactly one year ago tonight. To understand it fully, reading my blog on Day 5 about my time of confession and reunion with my dad would be beneficial. I wrote this just a few weeks after he died, and so it’s as rough as my emotions were at the time. How many breaths did you take Daddy, That last night? It didn’t occur to me to count them, I just stood by your side. As I look back on that night, Wondering how many breaths you...

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#7 – What’s in a Middle Name? – David

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#7 – What’s in a Middle Name? – David

I didn’t give my son a middle name until three years after I named him Jeremiah. I was considering the name David after one of my brothers, and I knew the Bible would help me decide for sure. I had no idea just how strikingly fitting it would be, but when I looked into the story of King David of the Bible, I knew for certain that it was definitely the right name. At the time of my pregnancy, I was living in Wisconsin and my now husband/then fiancé was in South Carolina in the Navy. I had just returned from visiting him, where...

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#6 – The Dignity of a Name – Jeremiah

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#6 – The Dignity of a Name – Jeremiah

I named my son Jeremiah. Giving our aborted children names also gives them dignity and acknowledges their existence and time here on Earth, even as limited as that time may have been. The Jeremiah of the Bible was a prophet speaking warnings to God’s people. Although I took my son’s ability to speak for himself, I am endeavoring to speak on his behalf now. The verses of the book of Jeremiah are incredibly challenging but reassuring and hopeful at the same time. This topic of abortion that I’m not only talking about but...

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#5 – Opening Up to Daddy

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#5 – Opening Up to Daddy

It took me 20 years to work up the courage, but I finally did it. And I am so, SO thankful that I did. I did it in stages to make it easier, and each step gave me more courage to keep going. First, I mailed my dad a package with two compartments. The first contained just a letter. The second, which I sealed separately, contained my written story of confession. My letter explained that I planned to fly down to visit with him to talk about something, that that something was written out inside the second envelope, and if he wanted to read it...

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#4 – The Hold and Effects of a Secret

Posted by on 10:27 pm in Blog, Resources | 2 comments

#4 – The Hold and Effects of a Secret

A combination between a maze and a chess game all in my head, that’s what I picture. Before anyone knew my secret about the abortion I had when I was young, I was held captive by a strategic secret-keeping mind maze. Let me try to explain. In the midst of a group conversation with friends, before I felt comfortable to comment or respond to anyone I would maneuver through my response, then the other person’s anticipated possible response to me, then the additional possible question(s) that would raise, then my additional...

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