Specifically women who, in many major circles, are placed in the category of the unthinkable. They’ve done the unimaginable and should be added to the list of the worst of the worst.
They’re talked about on Facebook like they’re heartless individuals who can’t see, feel, think or read. They’re often ripped apart by those who have never been in their position, yet jump to many conclusions as to how they got there or why they did what they did.
This is for the broken.
This is for the hurting.
This is for the lost, embarrassed and ashamed.
This is for the woman who needs to hear that she’s not alone.
This is for the one who needs to know there is forgiveness, freedom, liberty and boundless love in Christ.
This is for the woman who, like me, had an abortion that she regrets.
*To my precious pregnant friends, or anyone else for whom miscarriage is a trigger, please refrain from reading this post if you have any inkling that it will upset you. I appreciate your love and support, and regardless of what I’m going through know that I rejoice with you.*
As I signed my name at the bottom of the discharge paper, my eyes fixed on those two words. I held myself together long enough to make it to the doors, but as soon as the wind hit my face the tears came hard and heavy.
I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t process a thing.
I couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
It wasn’t a dream. It was my harsh, cruel, and excruciatingly painful reality.
We had lost our baby and my heart was shattered into a million pieces.