Life After Abortion and Miscarriage: From Shame to Surrender

By: The Other Side of Victory

About the Life After Series

If you’re new here, Life After is a blog series featuring 15 women, 15 battles, and one powerful truth: there is life after. Through heartbreak, healing, and hard-won hope, Coach Jaleesa’s Happy Wife Happy Life is honored to help share their stories with the world.

Foreword by Coach Jaleesa

The following blog is one of the most transparent and emotionally complex pieces I’ve had the privilege to share on Happy Wife, Happy Life. It’s a journey through abortion, miscarriage, grief, and spiritual restoration. If you’ve ever felt torn between your faith and your past, or if you’re carrying a secret burden you think disqualifies you from healing, this story is for you.

As always, please read with care. This post may be emotionally triggering for some and is not appropriate for young children. But I pray that through these words, someone feels seen, understood, and reminded that God’s grace truly reaches every corner of our lives—even the ones we’ve tried to bury.

You are not alone. You are not too far gone. And you are absolutely, positively still covered.

A Need to Be Wanted

I was fortunate to have been raised in a loving family. My father was a military man and was stern. My mother was sweet, loving, and mild-tempered. I was SUCH a daddy’s girl, it was a shame. I was joined at his hip. As I got older, I came to realize the unhealthy pressure I put on myself to please my father. I wanted him to be proud of me. I’m not sure if that’s how I developed the strong need to always want a man around. But that need stayed with me longer than it should have.

Growing up in a Christian family with strict rules, there wasn’t much for me to do but make straight A’s, play sports, and go to church. Throughout most of my teenage and young adult years, I was never tempted to do the things that some young people did. I genuinely loved school and track, and clubs and church. I never had a desire to drink (still haven’t to this day), never had a temptation for drugs, never was tempted to stay out late, was very driven to be the best even at an early age. Still, with all that, there was always a strong and unhealthy desire to always have a man; to be wanted and desired by a man. Where did this come from? I didn’t even know how to flirt right, but as soon as a guy showed interest in me and we got to know each other, it was a wrap! See in my family, we didn’t have healthy talks about sex, only “You better not get pregnant!”

I was determined that despite this lustful spirit that seemed to have attached itself to me, I would remain a virgin until I was married. But then he came. His name was Tyrone. I’d just turned 16 that summer and was attending a college campus program for high achievers. Walking with my friend, we decided to explore the campus and stumbled across some red and white bricks with red and white benches and greek letters. This looked like a great place to sit for me and my friend to sit and chat, and so we did. That’s when Tyrone came, barking orders at us to get off their benches. Of course, I went into my, “This is a free country spill.” He rudely explained that this was Kappa territory and that only Kappas could sit there. We left, but not before I gave Tyrone a piece of my mind.

Later that evening he was driving around campus and spotted us again. He pulled over to apologize for his tone. He ended up asking for my number and the rest was history. I was his girl and he was my man. Although he was a Junior on the college campus, it wasn’t until months later that I had the heart to tell him that I was only a Junior in high school. He seemed unfazed. He also seemed unfazed when I told him I was a virgin and wanted to remain one until marriage. Assuring me that he would be my first and my last, I eventually gave in to him. What was I thinking? My parents detested our relationship, he wasn’t even trying to be saved and for some reason, I thought it would all work out.

Fast forward two years. I graduate high school, off to college on a full scholarship. Tyrone and I continued dating, but you could really call it ‘messing around.’ I doubt he was faithful to me and I wasn’t to him. But when we were together, we were all that mattered to each other as we made promises of love and a future, and continued having sex. We promised each other that we would still be together, and eventually get married when I came back home after my four years of college. But if we weren’t faithful right in the same city, we sure wouldn’t be faithful 2.5 hours apart.

New City, Same Cycle

My freshman year was the typical freshman struggle to find myself, make friends, find a church, etc. So many things in my life were different that I wasn’t sure how to maneuver it all. One that remained the same, was the need to always have some man love me. In walks Elgin. A student at a neighboring college. Cute as can be and full of everything a girl ever wanted to hear. Do you know this dude had the nerve to flash hundreds of dollars to me and tell me he was taking me on a shopping spree to the mall? Turns out that hundreds of dollars was his rent money; so I settled for a combo from Bojangles and an empty night of useless sex.

The next day, AFTER we had sex, he asked me about my birth control methods. “I’m not on any kind of birth control method,” was my reply. His? “Well, you’re pregnant then because I did not pull out.” From that day forward he would call me, asking how ‘our’ baby was doing. Then he and my roommate, who was dating one of his roommates, turned my life around! Stick with me now. My roommate and I were beginning to fall out. Elgin sided with her. It turned into them making me the biggest laughing stock. “Oh she says she saved, but having sex like nobody’s business!” How could he tell her? Couldn’t they tell that I really did love the Lord, with all my heart! How mean! But had they (two unsaved people) not pointed and laughed and called me out on my sin, no telling how long I would have continued thinking I could love the Lord but have a little sex on the side. Thank God for using them!

That is what I needed to hear. I felt convicted, ashamed, sick to my stomach and the thought that there were two sides to my life. But thank God for deliverance! That Sunday, a girl I knew, who would become my best friend to this day, shared with me the struggles with her flesh. For her it was clear, if you love the Lord, keep His commandments. He cares not about how you ‘feel’ about Him if your life is a walking double standard. That day, I made renewed commitment to live for Him and serve Him, and seek deliverance from this lustful spirit. Oh I felt so much better, like a weight had been lifted. I made a choice to keep only Godly people in my circle, who would hold me accountable, and deal ‘real’ with me, until God wrought his finished work in me. What joy I experienced as I walked in healing from my sexual past. That is, until, three weeks later.

Three Minutes of Tears

When I learned that Elgin was right, I was pregnant. An 18 year old freshman, in honors college, on a full scholarship, pregnant right before Thanksgiving break. I cried for three good minutes, but then never looked back. There was no other alternative. I had to get an abortion. You see me, and my family, we had an image to maintain. Not me! Not the smart one, not the one who was going to make her daddy proud. But how could God allow this to happen? I’d just renewed my commitment to him. Still, there was no looking back. I needed to have an abortion. And I never gave it a second thought. I called Tyrone and told him I was pregnant and the baby was his. I was NOT going to give Elgin the satisfaction of thinking he was right. To this day, he doesn’t know.

After convincing Tyrone that my unborn child was his, I went home for Christmas break and he was convinced an abortion was the right thing to do as well. Oh, how I wish there was some earth shattering conviction that would come over me. Maybe when the electricity went out for over an hour and all abortions were halted, I should have realized God speaking to me. But no, I told the doctor, “I’ll wait.” You couldn’t tell me that I wasn’t doing the right thing. Afterwards, as Tyrone lay hugging me in his apartment, I did cry, but just for a little bit. I kept waiting for this earth shattering conviction? It simply wasn’t there. In fact, saved as I was, I felt like I could finally go on with my life. I suppressed that moment in my life as far down as it would go, and never looked back. Until eight years later.

Eight Years Later

I’d graduated from college, was happily serving the Lord, walking in deliverance, growing in faith, married to my college sweetheart that I met shortly after the abortion, and we were unexpectedly expecting our first child. What joy! This was a “Won’t He do it? Won’t He will!” moment. That is, until July 5th. Something didn’t feel right. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something wasn’t right. This was my ‘first’ pregnancy and all new moms experience worry, said the doctor, every time I called with some troubling symptoms. With every symptom, the doctor dismissed it and gave some reasonable explanation for why it was happening.

Later that night, while watching The Talented Mr. Ripley with my husband (because some details you never forget), I went into labor. And at home, while 6 months pregnant, I delivered our daughter in the bathroom, before the ambulance could arrive. There was no need to check for anything, no need to ask questions. I’d just given birth…in a toilet…and there was no sign of life. We rode in the ambulance in silence. I can only describe this period of time by saying that I suffered a nervous breakdown. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t reason. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t forgive. I couldn’t heal. I was cursed. And I knew I was cursed. Loved the Lord and saved, but cursed—that was my illogical thinking. It was very clear to me, God was punishing me for having taken life, and showing no remorse. He didn’t love me and you couldn’t tell me that he did. Still, all I know is the Lord. So even though he doesn’t love me, I have to pretend to still be saved, right? For months, I simply wasn’t myself. There was no need to read the bible. No need to pray. No need to engage life. Just go through the motions of doing church and supporting your husband.

The Shift Toward Healing

A few months later, my husband and I tried a special group counseling for those that have experienced miscarriage and stillbirth. And the doors of healing began to open. These people, having been in my shoes, understood exactly what I felt. I didn’t want anyone to talk to me like I hadn’t experienced what every mother goes through. I knew what morning sickness felt like. I still had a baby ‘pooch.’ I still had sonogram pictures. I still had a half-filled nursery. I just had nothing to show for it, like an unfinished project. And for that I became bitter at every pregnant friend I knew. Side eyes when shower invitations came. Walking away when people wanted to rub their bellies. Looking back, I can say I was selfish and depressive. Selfish because I wanted everyone, everyone in my church, and everyone in my circle, to sit in sackcloth and ashes and be in misery with me. How dare they act like life can go on? I was depressed but couldn’t speak it.

The Word I Didn’t Want, But Needed

Then one day, while in worship at a women’s retreat, and still wallowing in self-pity, my pastor’s wife approached me. She whispered in my ear and I knew for sure that it was going to be another loving message. But no. She said, “Did God wallow in sorrow when you made the choice to kill that baby? Get up! Wash your face, change your clothes of sorrow for joy. And praise Him RIGHT NOW!” I know that sounds harsh. And even now as I reflect back, I think, she was savage! As my kids would say. :)

But she heard from the Lord, it was just what I needed to hear. Emphasis on the word I. God knew what that would do for ME! I don’t think that’s the type of message that will set the masses free AND bring hope and encouragement to everyone, but it did me. Because that’s the kind of God we serve. To give us what we need, when we need it. That weekend, I started the process of confronting the suppressed emotions of the abortion. It started with me taking complete responsibility for my action. It continued with me asking for forgiveness from pride; thinking that I was too good to let the people know that I’d made a mistake. It continued with me surrendering that sin completely to God.

If all my other sins can be covered under the blood then why not this one? It continued with me realizing that salvation has nothing to do with the number and types of sins I’ve committed. I realized that ONLY because of the saving power of Jesus’ work on the cross, could I walk in complete healing and deliverance. I was not unreachable. I was not cursed. I was part of the ALL in Romans 3:23 who had sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God. But I was also part of the ALL in Colossians 2:13 whom He’s made alive, having forgiven all my transgressions.

It took time to unpack the years of self-unforgiveness and walk in the realization that this sin of abortion too is covered under the blood. It took time to let the Word continue to wash that area of my life and bring about complete healing. But God is so very faithful. That next year, we struggled to get pregnant. And my faith was often tested. But the lyrics to a song (can’t think of the title for nothing), often ministered to me:

You don’t have to know how, ‘cause how is unimportant
You don’t have to know when, ‘cause time is not a factor
You don’t have to know how, you don’t have to know why,
His love for you is all you need to know

Grace After Grief

And so I gave up trying to figure out why all this had happened and began to bask in His beautiful love. And just 15 months after losing our daughter, I found out I was pregnant. I learned to trust Him ever the more for a healthy, beautiful baby. And a few months after that, I was pregnant again. I stopped questioning why. I don’t need to know why. We often feel satisfied once we know why. But we don’t need to know why things happened in our life in order to serve Him.

Now I struggle with whether to tell my daughter or not, but anytime the devil tries to remind me of my past, I remind him of the blood!