Sally

It was the end of the first session of a Christian women’s conference about sexuality, and I was trying to decide whether to go to the front of the room to let someone pray for me.

They said that we could come forward to receive prayer about anything relating to sexuality. I’d had two abortions, many years ago, before I got married and had my two sons.

Did I need to be prayed for? Was it a big deal? It wasn’t as if I’d had any choice at the time, was it? Finally I decided that I might as well ask for prayer. I had no idea what the consequences of that decision would be.

* * *

I can only describe my early adulthood as bleak. I felt lost, existing in a dark tunnel. My first husband did his best to rescue me, despite having his own issues to deal with, but my only purpose in life seemed to be self-destruction. After two suicide attempts, numerous stays in hospital and the loss of our baby, he finally asked for a divorce. I came to England the day after the divorce was finalised, about 16 years ago.

Men were a waste of time, as far as I was concerned, and I avoided any contact with them for two years. Then, gradually, they became interesting again. I put an ad in a Lonely Hearts column and, to my astonishment, got 100 replies.

A few dates with different men resulted, and one of them went much further than I’d intended. The man was married but separated from his wife, and he spent most of our time together moaning about how she didn’t understand him. I have no idea why we ended up in a hotel room together on our first meeting, other than that it was a very long time since I’d had any intimacy with a man. It never crossed my mind that a one-night stand might result in pregnancy – I did not even consider taking the morning-after pill. However, the impossible happened and I discovered that I was pregnant.

When I told him, he said, ‘No problem! Let’s get married!’

There was no way I could agree to that. It was clear that the relationship could go nowhere, and anyway I had just got a place on a degree course that I was not about to give up. I ended the relationship, and terminated the pregnancy.

Soon after that I began a relationship with a man I really loved. Unfortunately, he was not really interested in commitment. I was ready for marriage and children, but he’d done all that, and already lost touch with his children. After about three years he dumped me, with the worst possible timing, just before my final exams.

The same day I had a phone call from a complete stranger – he said he was studying massage and was looking for clients to practise on. I had studied massage too, so I felt comfortable with the idea - anyway, I was so devastated by the end of the relationship that I just thought ‘Why not?’

We met, and it was very strange; we ended up in bed, and the whole time I was sobbing over my ex-boyfriend.

We were together for several weeks. In that time he appeared once in a while but I never knew anything about him, except that he was a musician – I didn’t even know where he lived. He told me he was against abortion, but he refused my request to use contraception. Mind you, I didn’t use any either.

When I told my boyfriend I was pregnant he said, ‘I’ll be around when it comes,’ and, ‘you’ll have nine months to get used to the idea!’

He ended up nagging me to keep the baby. I was determined not to. I knew this man was not the right person for me. I felt totally alone. I even ended up hating the alien being that had invaded my body. To me, it was as if I had been raped. I never thought of the baby as a baby; I just knew I could not keep it. I was also struggling with alcohol problems at the time and I felt absolutely worthless.

I lied about the date of the appointment I’d made for the abortion so that my boyfriend wouldn’t be able to get in the way. I got fed up of him ringing me all the time, but finally he accepted that I no longer wanted to see him. He left me alone for six months, then he rang once more.

‘This is the last time I’ll call you,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to tell you that I’ve got married and we’re having a baby.’

To my relief, I never heard from him again.

* * *

It was two years before I was ready for another relationship, and that was when I met my husband. We went to the same Salsa classes and met occasionally, but nothing happened for a long time because he thought I already had a partner and I thought he was gay!

When we did get together I made it clear that I wanted commitment, not a casual relationship. We put it to the test by going backpacking in South America for a year. There were lots of intense and unforgettable moments, and we grew to respect and love each other; it became clear that we had both found what we were looking for. We sailed back across the Pacific at the end of the year (as crew!) and it was on board that our first son was conceived – a bit of a shock as it was the first time we had not used contraception. We got married, and two years later our second son was born.

As my first son got close to school age I was determined to get him into our local church school, so we started attending St Barnabas, simply to meet the school entry requirements. I had absolutely no other reason for being at the church. I began attending the Thursday women’s group as well, out of curiosity I suppose. For some reason, though, whenever people began to sing songs in worship – either on Sunday or Thursday – I would become tearful.

Very, very gradually, over the space of months, I began to let God into my life. It was a whole year after I started going to St Barnabas that I can say I became a Christian (although sometimes I still wonder if I can describe myself in that way!). I began to accept Jesus’ love for me and even to feel his presence tangibly; I became aware that he was speaking to me. He started dealing with some difficult things in my life in a way that I can only describe as supernatural. One of those things was the fact of the two abortions.

* * *

I didn’t intend to go to that women’s conference on sexuality, which took place two years after I became a Christian. I was half hoping to go, but our financial situation was close to disastrous at the time, due to my husband’s business partner stealing from us and leaving us almost bankrupt. I had just enough money for a ticket to the conference but not to pay for transport. On the Thursday two days before the conference I was at the women’s group and someone couldn’t go, so she gave me her ticket. Then she gave me money for transport as well.

So there I was at the front of the hall, at the end of that first session, and a member of the prayer ministry team came up to me. I started to tell her that I wasn’t really sure whether it was an issue or not, but I’d had these abortions – and before I could get the words out properly I began sobbing uncontrollably. I was suddenly overwhelmingly devastated by what I’d done.

When I was able to, we talked for a while. One of the things the prayer counsellor said to me was, ‘You’ll see those two children in heaven.’

‘Great,’ I said. ‘I’ve got some explaining to do.’

I had taken their lives; I had killed them, and I was going to have to face them. How could I explain? There was no excuse.

Heaven isn’t like that,’ said the counsellor. ‘Everything will already be known. God will see your heart, and so will they. There won’t be any explaining to do.’

She prayed for me, and I went away feeling slightly better. God had forgiven me, and I would be able to face the consequences of what I’d done with that knowledge. There was something else I felt I must do, though, and that was to confess to the women’s group about the abortions. That Thursday, Anne, who leads the group, asked if there was anyone who wanted to report back about what God had done in them at the conference. It was then or never, so I blurted out my story: that I’d had terminated two pregnancies, and what had happened when I was prayed for.

There was silence. I had no idea what the other women were thinking - it felt to me that many of them were shocked and taken aback by what I’d confessed. It was only at the end of the meeting that several women came up to me, one by one, and thanked me for my honesty. They were clearly not condemning me, and at that moment I felt complete release. I had told these Christian women my crimes and they hadn’t rejected me. One of them even said they felt that God would use me to help other women with the same experience as me.

* * *

One morning not long after that I was in the supermarket with my younger son when I noticed a woman watching me talk to him. She was tall, dark-haired, and really, strikingly beautiful. She smiled at the two of us and I smiled back. Then I paid for my shopping, and we left the shop.

Once outside, I heard a barely audible voice behind us.

‘Excuse me! Excuse me!’ it said.

I looked back, and there was the same woman, following us. She looked distressed.

‘Excuse me,’ she said when she got to us. ‘I was watching you with your child – I’m pregnant, and I don’t know what to do.’ She began to cry.

I was completely stunned. Finally I said, ‘Let’s find somewhere to sit.’ Then we sat down, and we talked. My two-year-old was miraculously quiet throughout, although now that I think about it, it may have had something to do with the chocolate I had just given him.

She told me that her boyfriend didn’t want to know about the baby, and he was always going off on trips anyway. She was just finding success as an actress and if she had the baby she felt her career would be finished.

I told her my story, including my experience of God. ‘I’ve done it,’ I said, ‘and now I have to live with it. I don’t think you should have an abortion.’

‘Did you ever regret having children?’ she asked.

‘Never,’ I said. In fact, at that moment, I actually realised how lucky I was. I felt privileged to have been blessed with two wonderful lively boys. ‘We have had some very, very difficult times since they were born, but I don’t regret it. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it.’

‘My brother regrets having his daughter,’ she said flatly.

I was shocked to hear that. I had no idea what to say.

‘Do you think God will forgive me if I have an abortion?’ she said.

‘Well – yes, I think he will,’ I said. ‘But will you forgive yourself?’

Finally, my son finished the chocolate and began ‘being himself’, as I call it – in other words it was impossible to continue talking.

I left her in tears, looking completely lost. I felt powerless to help her.

I told everyone at the women’s group on the following Thursday. We all prayed for her; I really hoped I would see her again. The next week I was on my way to the park with the children, taking a different route from usual, when I literally bumped into her.

‘Thank goodness you’re here! I am SO glad to see you!’ I said.

‘Why?’ she said, looking taken aback.

Then she told me, ‘I had to let him go.’

I realised she was telling me that she’d done it – she’d had the abortion.

‘Well, do you want to talk about it?’ I asked. ‘Come with us to the park and we can have a chat.’

Her response was, ‘Don’t you hate me?’

‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘Let’s talk.’

The boys were in awe of this beautiful vision of a woman. They loved her. ‘Why is the lady sad?’ they kept asking me.

As we walked along we were talking about how I had recovered from my abortions, when she suddenly said something that took me by surprise.

She said, ‘I haven’t done it yet. I couldn’t do it.’

We kept on talking, for 45 minutes in all. Then we said goodbye, and I haven’t seen her since.

I may never find out what she decided, but I often pray for her. I felt that God was using our meeting to draw her to himself, and to show his compassion towards her despite what she was considering doing.

I have a feeling that she won’t be the last woman God puts in my path who is struggling with an unwanted pregnancy or the trauma of abortion. I am amazed at how he has turned something so wrong in my life into something that he can use for good. I have learnt that nothing that we give to God is ever wasted, not even the things we are most ashamed of.