It was 1969. My mom and dad had been married about 15 years, and had a 12 year old daughter. They had decided that they were done having children. My mother went to see her doctor for what she thought may be the flu, but it turned out she was pregnant with me. At 44 years of age, she was considered to be quite old to be pregnant, especially back then. As you can imagine, I came as a big surprise for them. In fact, my mom’s response to the doctor’s news was, “You’re kidding.”
The doctor told her of many possible complications and ensured her that if she went ahead with the pregnancy she would have a “Down Syndrome baby.” The medical staff all advised my mom to abort me. But, as my Mom related this story to me, she “wouldn’t have any of that garbage!” There was no question in her mind that she would keep me to full-term no matter the negative possibilities the doctor projected.
How I wish she were still here to answer more of my questions, but she passed two years ago at the age of 91 on January 19, 2017. But she did always say was that I was a gift from God and that she was grateful to Him for giving her a baby later in life, twelve years after she had her first daughter, my sister Robin. Just imagine — twelve years . . . , no birth control, no fertility treatments, just God’s timing. That is what is missing these days — a gratitude and awe for God being our Creator. That is why it’s so easy for women to jump on the bandwagon of “choice.”
Even though I grew up hearing my own birth story, sadly I did not share my mom’s strength of character when I became pregnant at the age of 19. Unmarried, living with my first real boyfriend who told me he would pay for an abortion, I was confused, terrified and unsure of what to do. Perhaps because of the culture, my parents never really taught me that it was wrong to be living with my boyfriend, and they never judged me for it, yet, when it came to this pregnancy, I was ashamed and afraid to tell my parents. Other than my own birth story, my parents never really talked about abortion.
In my circle of friends, abortion was considered to be not a good thing to do, but it was there if you needed it. At the time, I really didn’t know what I thought about abortion, but I’d definitely been influenced to believe it was a woman’s choice and an acceptable option. My best friend who had already had an abortion took me under her wing and brought me to the clinic.
The first time I went in, they had me take another pregnancy test to confirm the results and then scheduled me for the abortion. I remember being very confused, because I thought it all happened in one day. During the wait, I was pretty shut down, drinking and smoking a lot, just numbing myself. My boyfriend and I didn’t really talk and just kind of stayed away from each other.
The day arrived and I was numb. My friend who took me to the clinic the first time brought me again. We parked far from the clinic and as we walked in, there were women lined up begging me to not go in. They had not been there on my first visit and it was shocking and terrifying seeing them crying and yelling at me, because it made me feel guilty. There were parts of me that didn’t want to do it. I was raised Catholic and a part of me knew it was wrong, but there were others around me telling me it was okay. My friend certainly wasn’t ready to deal with her own abortion and didn’t like seeing them there, so we ran in the clinic doors as fast as we could to get past these women.
Once inside the abortion clinic, the staff was robotic and cold, but the doctor was cheerful like he enjoyed what he did. It seems so sadistic now. On the gurney, I was rolled into in a large room where I could hear others nearby, separated by curtains. I could hear talking, I could hear crying. And then I was out.
When the sedative wore off, I woke up to laughter and I began to laugh. There were other girls waking up too in the same room, an assembly line of sorts. The laughter is a side effect of the sedative — the pharmaceutical — they said. Looking back and with the wisdom God has given me now, it was wickedness and demonic influence, I’d say. Look up the word Pharmakeia. It means “drug-related sorcery, like the practice of magical arts.” That seems a more fitting description to me.
In the aftermath of having the abortion, I sank into a deep depression. Shortly after the abortion, my boyfriend and I broke up and I moved back in with my parents. I still didn’t tell my parents what I’d done and I didn’t talk to my friends about it because I just wanted the experience to go away. But I felt an all-encompassing darkness. I’d never felt so low. I had a lot of hatred and disgust for myself. My mom saw my level of depression and suggested I see my general practitioner.
Still so ashamed, I didn’t even tell my doctor about the abortion, so he had no idea what was really going on. I was prescribed Prozac and medication to help me sleep. Nothing helped and the darkness only enveloped me more and more. Alone in my bedroom counting them out one by one, I took the 30 day supply of sleeping pills all at once.
For some reason, I called my best friend to say goodbye. She heard me slurring and immediately got a hold of my mom and an ambulance was sent. In the ER, I was given activated charcoal to induce vomiting. It’s a horrible, vile taste and you have to drink it if you don’t want your stomach pumped. I was admitted to the hospital for a couple of days, and again, I told no one about the abortion, despite having been asked the standard questions of whether there had been any recent changes in my life.
For the next 13 years, I fought with those demons, going to counseling, using prescriptions, drugs and alcohol, and those demons fought hard to take me down.
At 31, I had a wake-up call along with the entire nation. In August 2001, I went on a trip to New York City with a friend. A mere few weeks later 9/11 happened. It was shocking and surreal. I couldn’t understand why it was allowed to happen, then even why I existed and why there is evil in the world.
A receptionist at the office I worked in had been reaching out to me inviting me to church, so I began asking him questions. We made plans to meet for tea right across the street from the Bodhi Tree, a “spiritual” bookstore. With time to spare, I went in and purchased a book on every religion I could find because I was searching for meaning, and for answers to my big questions.
As I brought them out when we met, my co-worker asked if I had purchased a Bible. Yes! It was in the trunk of my car. Earlier that day, I had gone on an errand for my boss to Costco and saw Bibles stacked, so I picked one up. This co-worker told me to return all the other books and that all I needed was the Bible. I recall being surprised he said that, and I did not return the other books because I wanted to find these things out for myself.
However, over the next several weeks, I found myself just reading the Bible. Sitting up late one night, I began watching a TV show which caught my attention. It was a man speaking in a large stadium. His name is Greg Laurie and it was an event called the Harvest Crusade. He kept talking about Jesus and soon I was asking myself, “Who Is Jesus?” How was I raised Catholic but I never really knew Him?
Once again I contacted the receptionist who had now become a friend and asked more questions. He suggested joining a women’s Bible study. I finally did. There were several different studies which lead up to being baptized. Then there comes a point where you write down all of your sins and you can share them with someone else if you’d like, but the purpose of the exercise was to help us understand what sin is and to realize what sins have been forgiven for us.
I didn’t need anyone telling me abortion was a sin. I already knew. For the first time ever, I wrote down this sin of mine on a piece of paper and shared it with the woman I was partnered up with for the study. I felt relief getting it out. She responded with kindness. We prayed together. There was no condemnation, just “isn’t it amazing that we can be forgiven?”
Shortly after being baptized, I had a conversation with another young woman who had also been baptized, and I was surprised to hear her say that she felt abortion is a woman’s choice. I was shocked that she thought that, after everything we’d just learned — that we were made in God’s image, and that she’d just been baptized.
Now I am a woman who is finding her voice to tell young women they are being sold a terrible lie. Abortion should never be an option. Ever. It is a horrific thing to encourage women to do. It will ruin your life on so many levels. But I am also here to tell them that if they have already made that mistake, there is one who will bring healing and forgiveness and His name is Jesus.
There was still one more person to whom I needed to confess my abortion — my mother. I went into her room, asked if we could talk, telling her that I had something important to tell her. We cried, we hugged, and I asked her if she thought God would forgive me and she said, “Yes.” She was very forgiving, loving and kind. It was a tender moment and not at all what I’d been afraid of for so many years.
I’m so grateful that my mom didn’t listen to the doctors, and that she gave me life. Even though I didn’t make the same good choice in my life and had done something so horrific, my mother loved me and supported me. I’m telling my story now because I see how important it is for young women to understand the value of life — as I today value my own life, and how destructive that decision to abort is for both the baby and the mother.
BIO: Kristina Lynch is a small business owner who resides on the Central Coast of California with her husband, two cats and a chicken. Her interests include treasure hunting for her resale business, crafting and spending time in her garden and walking on the beach boardwalk. She volunteers with the local Youth Collective of middle and high school kids as well as the Good News Club teaching grade school children about Jesus, and is now a pro-life blogger for Save The 1:http://www.savethe1.com.
