In my past I made the choice to have an abortion. In one of my earliest articles on my blogspot titled "Little Butterfly" I shared a little about my story and how as a teenager I had an abortion. The actual date, at least the closest that I can pin-point was April of 1983. I am not going to go into the history of that, as it would be redundant to the other post. It did take many years to overcome the guilt and the grief that was attached to that decision. It was living through an abortion that convinced me that abortion was wrong. Trying to overcome my low self-esteem at times seemed impossible. I viewed myself as unworthy of the simplest blessings and I longed to return to the time and change the decision and the outcome.
I would hear stories of women who couldn't get pregnant after they had had an abortion and even those stories would make me feel guilty. I didn't struggle with an ounce of infertility. I used to make a joke and say that David would sneeze and I would get pregnant. To which David's sweet Grandfather replied one day, "Maybe that's why they keep having babies, maybe they don't know what's causing it!"
Our 3rd pregnancy was the first one that we planned and it came about easily. We breezed along with very little concern. We had baby clothes for a boy or a girl so we weren't overly concerned about bringing home another Sill.
Everything changed in April of 1993 when we got the results from a routine ultrasound that showed that there were significant problems with the baby's brain. Basically, the baby had a disease known as Dandy Walker Malformation and because of that disease she also had hydrocephalus. The doctor advised us to abort the baby. It was a horrible feeling to be lying on the table having the person who is supposed to want to cure your child telling you that she isn't worth the effort. There was no way that I would abort her. And David felt the same way.
The reason I am telling about this moment isn't to exalt myself for not having an abortion. Trust me, there was NOTHING noble about me keeping my baby girl. The reason that I need to tell you about that is because it is such a huge illustration of God's love and trust. Look at the dates of the two incidents. They match. April of 1983 followed 10 years later by April of 1993. God gave me another chance to choose life. He didn't have me travel back in time to make the choice to keep my first baby, but what He did do was allow me to be in a place to choose again. He knew that I would choose love over fear. He trusted me with her life because He had seen my heart and He believed that my repentance was real. She was so important in my understanding God's love for me. He believed in me. After all those years that I had chased after His approval, He smiled on me and showed me very clearly that I had no reason to doubt His love. I didn't have to prove that I was sorry, He knew.
Now, some cynics among you may be thinking, "Well, of course you didn't have an abortion, you're husband was a Youth Pastor!" Well, you are mistaken if you think that the mind is not more clever than that. Deception is a nasty bug that will always find a way into a desperate situation and there is no doubt in my mind that if I had WANTED to have an abortion, I would have found a way. I fully believe that there have been scared Christian women who have gone to a clinic to have an abortion and then later told family members that she had a miscarriage. We are daughters of Eve and we are inclined to sin and cover it up. I was fully aware on the ride home from the hospital that this was an option. Satan always finds a way to lead us off the path if we give way to our fears. And I had fears that were ugly.
I begged God to take my baby because I was so afraid of how she was going to destroy the lives of my daughter and my son. I was fearful that having this baby would mean that I would always have her in my home, that she would grow old with David and I, and we would never have any time together alone. I begged God to allow me to miscarry. For one day. And then I stopped and I named her.
The morning after finding out that I would be giving birth to a baby girl that the doctor's had said, "would never be normal" I stopped at WalMart to pick up a gift for a birthday party. I stood in the line with my two little children and the clerk asked if I wanted to pay $1 to a fundraiser for the Children's Hospital of Orange County. It was the kind of fundraiser where you pay $1 and you get to write your name on the paper shaped like a hot air balloon. Tears filled my eyes as I wrote "Molly Sill". Just like that, she suddenly had a name.
After the party, I went home and told David that I had named our daughter. Her name was Molly.
