My Story - Part IV: Redemption

I have had such a hard time with writing this last segment of my past journey.  There is so much I want to get across to you, but I just cannot seem to find the words.  I have literally sat down every day since Thursday and written a different draft each day.  I have not been happy with any of them.  I am not sure why this part is the hardest for me to write.  It's a story of resolution and redemption.  It's a love story between a woman and a man and a woman and God.  It's about new beginnings and coming full circle.  Why is it so hard to capture the substance - the essence, if you will - of such a story?  Knowing that I have never been - and will never be - perfect, here is my best attempt to tell the culmination of that story.  Here's warning, though, this will be a long post.

The last thing I said was that something truly remarkable happened just a few days after realizing this girl's first love was truly not "the one."  That remarkable thing?  Our girl went to church and met the most "boring" man she had ever met in her life - or so she thought.  However, despite her first impression, and despite her earlier resolve to never get married, God wove the hearts of these two people together - and quickly.  The "boring" man was a wonderful man - kind and compassionate, gentle and generous.  He was intriguing and intelligent and challenging.  He was the best thing to ever walk into our girl's life and the greatest gift she had ever received.  Thirteen months after the two had met, they became husband and wife.

Their life together had its ups and downs, as all marriages do, but it was - and is - always rich.  There were questions, of course, as to why there were no children in such a happy union, but they were always fielded with grace.  With each passing year, our girl seemed to gain a new reason that children were a bad idea.  Her past certainly contributed as did things in her distant childhood.  This girl did not deserve the gift of children, and even if she did, she would not be a good steward of that gift.  Fears of being an abusive mother or an absent mother or - worst of all - a resentful mother simply piled upon the guilt of her previous actions.  She had the quiet support of her husband, and life was good.  Then something else remarkable happened.  Seven and a half years after they were married, on a long road trip to Michigan to visit our girl's college roommate, the subject of children came up again.  Six hours and several miles later this girl and her husband had discussed, rehashed, and discussed the topic some more.  Together they came to the decision that they would start trying.  One week later, at her yearly gyne appointment, her IUD was removed, and the couple was poised to become parents.

To say our girl was fine with the decision would be laughable.  She alternated between freaking out and wondering why it had not happened yet.  She was TERRIFIED.  She was excited.  The roller coaster continued for approximately nine months.  (Isn't it ironic that her vacillation lasted for the incubation period of a child?)  That's when she truly began to want a child.  Three months later when the couple still hadn't conceived, she made an appointment with her gyne yet again.  She had the fear that the abortion had altered her uterus or tubes.  The first step in the testing process was to test her husband.  There were problems there.  Still worried there were problems with herself, our girl returned to her doctor.  She had bloodwork and a radiological procedure to look for blockages or scar tissue.  There were none.  Physiologically there was nothing preventing our girl from conceiving.  The focus on the medical front became her husband, and they became poised for intrauterine insemination.  From there I have documented my journey here in this blog.  It's been tough, yes, but it has been healing and refreshing as well.

I want to leave you with a few thoughts and some encouragement. 

First of all, if you find yourself pregnant with no options, you are LOVED.  I know where you are.  I've been there.  I don't wish that on anyone.  PLEASE, please find someone you can trust.  Even if it's just me.  Contact me, comment anonymously, give me some way to contact you.  I want to support you.  I want so badly to help.  And I want to pray for you.

Secondly, if you have had an abortion, you are LOVED.  It's ok.  There is support; there is no condemnation.  Again, I've been there, and let me tell you, God loves you.  He is not out to punish you.  He is in the renewal and redemption business.  He cares, and so do I.  Please, find someone to walk the journey with you, even if it's me.  I may never meet you, but I love you.  My heart bleeds for you.  And I want to pray for you.

I leave you with these lyrics from Stellar Kart's song "Me and Jesus."

Someone loves you
Even when you don't think so
Don't you know
You got me and Jesus
By your side
Through the fight
You will never be alone
On your own
You got me and Jesus

Thank you for joining me on this journey, all of you.  I can't wait to see where it continues to take us!

My Story - Part III: It's always darkest before the dawn

Yesterday’s story ended with a pregnant, scared, and distraught teenager.  How could this situation have happened to her?  All of a sudden the magnitude of her apathy descended like a heavy blanket, smothering and oppressive.  What was she going to do?  She couldn’t tell her parents; she assumed they would disown her.  She couldn’t tell her pastor; after all, she was a “good girl.”  She couldn’t tell the college; she assumed she would lose her scholarship and her place with the incoming freshmen.  So, she found her ex and told him. 

He threatened to sue for custody; he threatened to make her life as miserable as possible.  He refused to sign for an adoption.  She had absolutely no intention of marrying him and raising a child with him.  She was scared and felt trapped.  Her only course of action seemed to be to terminate the pregnancy as soon after her eighteenth birthday as possible.  A friend – who had had an abortion the previous year – lent the money.  As hard as it is for me to write this, the girl in our story – me – had a second trimester abortion.  It was a two-day affair.  Her mother had guessed what was happening after the first day.  When cornered, our girl told her mother everything.  Instead of casting her away, though, her mother began to brainstorm ways that they could keep the baby.  She started listing support options.  The hardest thing our girl ever had to do was to tell her mother that it was too late.  The process had started, and it was irreversible.  The next day during the actual procedure, our girl cried throughout the entire ordeal.  She cried on the ride home.  And she made a promise to herself:  she would never marry.  And if, in some alternate reality she found someone who could love her – warts and all – and who she could give her entire heart to – if it was ever complete again – she would never have children.  She was not worthy.  She had her chance, and she squandered it.  How many chances does one person get at happiness?  How many chances does one person get before God cuts her off?  How many times can one person willfully and knowingly tear out her Savior’s heart?  How could she ever be whole again?  Thankfully, no matter how much a person hates herself, she can never outrun God’s love, but I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Our girl spent the rest of the summer keeping to herself and trying to rebuild some semblance of her life while preparing for college.  August rolled around, and she left for a school four hundred miles away, ready to start over.  She found a group of friends and threw herself into college life.  She learned to fake a smile and even got a job solely for the brightness of that smile.  She majored in biochemistry/pre-medicine.  And she stayed away from relationships altogether.  Her best friend in college, a guy, developed a crush but she kept him at arm’s length by telling him she wasn’t yet over her ex – which was actually true.  Her first love?  The boy who shattered her heart?  They were talking again……all night at times.  He said he wanted to try again.  She was ecstatic, but in reality, they were just phone conversations every night.  Then he changed his mind, over and over again.  Back and forth and back and forth – for the entire school year. 

Through it all, though, something happened.  Between the amazing atmosphere of Asbury College and the gentle healing of the Holy Spirit, our girl’s heart began to take shape again.  The spring semester ended, and our girl was ready to come home again.  Her first love wanted to meet to talk in person.  They did, and he told her she was his only love, and he thought they should try again.  Whether it was the healing or the vacillation of the previous year, our girl didn’t buy the pitch, and she told him she wasn’t sure she could handle that.  It might just be too “weird.”  Lo and behold, two days later he said that it would not work after all.  Instead of being crushed, our girl felt nothing.  And then something truly remarkable happened that weekend…

My Story - Part II: Desperation

We left off yesterday with a girl’s dreams (mine) in tatters.  She had found and subsequently lost love and lost faith in love.  Her world had been irrevocably altered.  Her three dreams had changed as well.  While she still wanted to change the world for the better, she no longer longed for the intimacy of marriage.  She no longer desired the presence of children.  The male species became simply a source of companionship.  She would go out every weekend with a different guy but only so that she would not have to be alone on a Saturday night. 

After several months, the loneliness became overwhelming.  Deciding to take another chance at a relationship, our girl placed a personal “ad” on yahoo’s website.  Her stipulations for her next male counterpart?  This guy would be nothing that her “prince” was and everything that he wasn’t.  Much to her detriment, our protagonist found such a man.  He was sweet and romantic.  He bought her roses every week and packed a lunch for her every morning.  He professed undying love and devotion.  He made our girl feel loved, valued, and wanted.  She did not love him, but that did not matter.  He was a pathological liar, but that did not matter.  He was a thief, but that did not matter.  She was wanted, and that’s all that mattered.  She used him, plain and simple.  She used him to make her feel beautiful and special.  He gave her a ring, and despite her shame at leading him on, she took it.  She never had any intention of marriage, but she traded her empty promises for his tokens of affection.  Unfortunately, her empty promises were not all she traded.  She gave everything she had left, but she had convinced herself that nothing mattered anymore.  After all, what was the physical worth when pieces of her heart were still scattered and lost to the wind?  She had poured every last piece of herself into the previous relationship; so what if she now gave up her “illusions” of physical purity?  Nothing that she had left to give was worth anything anymore, so she gave it away to an insignificant man. 

After six months with this man, she finally had enough.  She broke it off, and though he was chasing another girl, he continued to profess unending devotion.  Almost as if waking from a dream, this girl’s life went back to the way it was before.  Her grades – which had taken a hit when she was with this other man – improved.  She felt no remorse at the break-up.  She did not miss him at all.  One day she was with him, and the next she wasn’t.  She was preparing for college.  In fact, she was headed to her first choice on a scholarship.  Life was better – for a time.

Unfortunately, approximately a month after the separation, the consequences of our girl’s actions came calling.  She was seventeen years old……and pregnant.  Pregnant with the child of a thief and a liar.  Pregnant with the grandchild of drug addicts.  Pregnant and preparing to attend a small Christian college in the Bible belt.  Again, it felt as if her life were ending……

My Story - Part 1: Dreams

My story starts with a very young girl from a poor family.  She was idealistic and enthusiastic.  Life was hard, but this young girl had the world at her feet.  She wanted only three things in life:  1) to change the world, 2) to grow up and marry the man of her dreams, and 3) to have lots and lots of children.

This girl grew older and wiser.  She excelled in school and babysat for spending money.  Her dreams evolved.  She still wanted to change the world, but the dream became more focused.  She was going to be a physician in a third-world country.  She was going to run a mission deep in the jungle where no one had ever even seen a white man before, and she was going to heal bodies and save souls.  She still wanted to marry the man of her dreams.  She still wanted children, though "lots and lots" became two to four.

At age fifteen, our girl fell in love.  She and this boy had known each other most of their lives but did not become close until the summer between her freshman and sophomore years of high school.  They began dating in the fall and quickly became serious.  He was everything she had ever wanted, everything she had ever dreamed.  He was handsome, kind, and on fire for God.  He, too felt a call to the mission field.  The two were going to change the world together.  They were going to marry (he had proposed one winter night), and they were going to have a family.  They were aiming for three children, to be exact.

They were happy for a year and a half, and then......(there's always a "then," isn't there?)  And then, he decided that he was no longer called to the mission field and that he could not ask this girl to change her plans for him.  To say she was devastated would be akin to saying Atlas was merely strong.  Her heart was smashed into thousands of tiny pieces, and those pieces were scattered.  Some were lost.  In one instant, her whole world was changed.  Nothing was the same.  Her story - my story - was over, and yet, it was just beginning......