THE BLOG
01/17/2013 05:33 pm ET Updated Mar 19, 2013

To Live or to Die

I told no one of that one decision to live or to die. The fear was greater than words I could ever speak. I would be disowned by my family. I would be marked with a permanent scar of judgments. I was scared, alone, married and pregnant with another man's child. I showed up every day in a marriage I struggled in. In an effort to try to escape that marriage I went into another man's bed. Good girls do not do that. No, we show up with kind words, cute shoes and a matching handbag. We sing and read with our children before they sleep. We don't sneak off into the night hoping this decision will cure the pains of life.

Alone I went to "terminate" the problem I had stepped into. Only thing is I love children. I had two precious little ones of my own. The fear held me captive to make the biggest decision I would ever make and regret. To live or to die. A part of yourself dies when you do something that is against your entire belief system. That cold day in October I drove myself. I gave a fake name and I lay there alone. A few drugs, some classical music, the suction of life being pulled out me, made my payment and drove myself home. I carried this secret for years. It was a secret for me because I am the last person in the world anyone would ever think could to do such a thing. Yet, I did. Fear pushed me into a decision I will carry the rest of my life. I made the decision to take the life of the precious baby growing in me.

I realize this could become a politically charged post. One thing you should know about me. I value life. I value that little pulse of a heartbeat within a few weeks of a fetus. I embrace the design my body has to give life. I do not embrace the decision I made to take that life. Here is the politically correct part, which is not PC at all. I embrace you. I embrace the decisions you make for your own body. We can differ in our views and I will sit with you, ask you questions around your decision and embrace you all the more. I did not embrace or value my decision, especially having come from values I grew up with, my choice was a secret messy one.

I was sick for several weeks. My heart broken. You see your body, still goes through the post delivery process even when you abort a child. I cried every day. I cried when I saw a mom holding a baby. I cried at the thought of what I had done, being such a tragic event for me, and for that little boy or girl I had sucked from my body. I cried when I looked at my sweet children, thinking what they would think of me if they ever knew what I had done.

My mom was working through life with a friend. Her friend had affairs, a broken marriage; the stuff that we often try to conceal and bury. She said, "Good lord she probably had an abortion too." Then the words came from my mouth. I was the prize daughter who had success in business, a beautiful family now breaking down the image. "I had an abortion." She did not believe me. Perhaps my age grew me into boldness and away from fear. I wanted her to hug me and tell me I was going to be okay. That did not happen and judgments set in. I knew there would be whispers behind my back.

Several years ago I was asked to speak at a women's conference and share some of "my story." I shared with hundreds of women that our past does not hold us captive, we as women hold each other captive with our judgments, whispers, and snickers. I shared that painful journey of having an abortion and how I believed the God of the universe hated me. My child bearing days were cut off. Guess what, that is so far from the truth. I went on to have three more children. I am now a mother of five. That one moment of decision did not define the rest of my life. I had to choose to live rather than die inside. A confused young twenty something girl did not allow that decision to break her in half. You have a story, a decision, one you are not proud of. Share your story boldly that it may help another. Set another free that has been held captive. Life is messy sometimes. When we hold ourselves captive to moments we slowly begin to die. I understand why I made that decision. I was dying inside. Now, I have no fear in the stories of my life. Choose to live. I like to call it the "resume of my life" has some flaws. How about yours?

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