At 20 years old, I learned that I was unexpectedly pregnant. I immediately thought that I couldn’t be a mother and be successful at the same time. My uncertainty was only compounded when the father of my child told me I should have an abortion and that he wanted nothing to do with me and our unborn child.
I had no idea how to be a mother, so the easiest route was to follow his wishes. I believed the cultural lie that in order to succeed in life, I would need to have an abortion.
I scheduled the appointment at a local abortion facility, despite having no idea what it would entail.
I walked into the abortion clinic and saw only a pale, cold waiting room with several women who were crying. No one was there to greet me, no counselors held the crying girls, and no love seemed to be found in the room. Immediately I felt as though I didn’t belong there.
I filled out the paperwork and was ushered back to a small room for an ultrasound. I never once looked at the screen. The voice in my head told me to follow the necessary steps — paperwork, ultrasound, payment, abortion. But my heart told me that those same steps would lead to more hurt, pain, and regret than I could ever imagine.
I left the clinic with unanswered questions, but I was still determined to return two weeks later for the procedure. Thankfully, during that two-week period, a
