A pro-life reader confronted a hard choice:
I was the typical 17-year-old good girl, just before my senior year of high school. Dad was a pastor and we lived in a small town in the Midwest. I had given my heart to a really bad guy and got pregnant.
At the beginning I wanted this child dead. There is no way anyone could convince me that this is not a human being growing inside of me; I am not stupid. It’s not just tissue and cells. I knew this was a life and I knew I was going to be killing this child. Those are facts that I just couldn’t get around.
But I was terrified. I knew my dad would lose his job if people found out I was pregnant. I knew the biological father was a bad man who would hurt this child. And my life was more important at that time than the child I was carrying, I thought. I really felt I needed to abort this baby.
The day before the abortion, I called and cancelled. I just couldn’t. I knew I would never be well if I took the life of this child. I was prepared to run and hide, but through circumstances I don’t have time to share, my parents found out I was pregnant and planning an abortion. (They didn’t know I had just cancelled it.)
I chose to give this child up for adoption. I became emotionally healthy partway through the pregnancy, as I realized that true love is loving someone more than yourself.