“Happy Birthday, I love you, whoever you would have been.”

For as many losses that occur naturally, there are many that occur by decision, and the isolation is equally numbing-though different. It angers most women who have experienced natural loss that anyone could choose this, so instead of sharing with anyone close to me, I kept it inside, filled with shame. Walking into an abortion recovery ministry is something I never envisioned. My decision was mine. The advice I received said it was best, that my life would be unmanageable with a baby, that I couldn’t possibly do it. How on earth did that “better” turn into a deep depression, feeling like I’d committed an unforgivable sin, watching days come and go on a calendar for all the various stages of pregnancy, due date, and subsequent milestones and birthdays that would have been, but not for my decision. How was this “better” than holding that precious little piece of me in my arms? I walked into that room and I was amazed at the number of women who had also made a choice, but found themselves in such deep agony over the loss, a grief that few understood because after all, it was what we chose. We shared our stories. I recounted trying to scream while “put under” begging them to stop, but I was paralyzed by the sedation I was given. I woke in a panic begging them to let me hold my baby, screaming “what have I done” as I was wheeled out of the clinic. They offered me medication to calm down. I didn’t want to calm down, I wanted to undo it all, to go back to the point of consent and change my mind. I relived that nightmare for years. Though more than a decade has passed, there is still a silent depression that sets in come January. I never expect it until I recognize the familiar void and I retreat to my small little box that holds his little ultrasound pictures, my pregnancy test, and the journal of letters that I write to the little boy I never got to meet. I listen to “Happy Birthday” by Lecrae until I can’t cry anymore. My only hope is that though my choice has destroyed pieces of me, that forgiveness is real, and that someday I’ll be able to kiss his face. Through this I’ve developed a deep passion for supporting those experiencing post abortion grief, and ultimately encouraging those considering abortion to fully understand the magnitude of loss and hopefully cause them to consider - and choose an alternative. No matter the manner of loss, the emptiness, the anxiety, the fear, and the agony is the same for those of us who regret our decision. “Happy Birthday, I love you, whoever you would have been.”