It's been about three-and-a-half years since I left Target with a pregnancy test and a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Three-and-a-half years since I took the test and confirmed my worst suspicions.
Three-and-a-half years since I cried for weeks at what couldn't have been worse news.
I didn't want another baby.
I had four already.
I was content with what I had.
Worst of all, I had miserable pregnancies. At three weeks pregnant I was already morning sick nearly 24 hours a day.
Then there would be the post-partum depression.
It was always bad and I had just come out of the darkness following the birth of my fourth.
I didn't want to go through that again.
I didn't want to put my family through that again.
If you've never been through PPD, you can have no idea just how terrible it is.
The darkness can be overwhelming at times.
Sometimes it's like someone else has taken over your mind making you think things you'd never think.
Acting ways you'd never act.
Its effects on your other kids is not pleasant either.
My kids deserved better than to have to suffer another two years, maybe more.
But I knew there was an out.
On January 22, 1973, the Supreme Court of the United States ruled that it was well within my rights to terminate this pregnancy.
No miserable nine months of morning sickness.
No suffering through post-partum depression.
No one needed know.
We'd all be happy and my kids would be better off.
Right?
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This post is dedicated to all the children who's parents opted to take that out. May God be merciful to their parents and bring them to repentance. But more, may He bring about an end to this heinous crime that robs the world of children like my son.
