in which I speak frankly about my abortion
Before I begin, I think it only fair to make it clear where I am coming from. I am a woman who became a Christian at the age of forty. But I was raised in church and believed myself to be a Christian for most of my life. I have been opposed to abortion for as long as I knew such a thing existed. In college I wrote a paper defending the pro-life position which my instructor thought was so well written that he pulled me aside to compliment me on it. Then, at the age of twenty-two, during one of the darkest periods of my life, I found myself pregnant, and I had an abortion. Remembering my abortion, trying to sort out the story and decide how to most honestly and helpfully write about it left me horribly depressed —what a mess I was in those days, such a miasma of confusion, fear and distrust influenced my decision. You may think it doesn't matter, that a choice is a choice, that when it came down to it I made the wrong one, simple as that. But there was nothing simple about it. It wa