Last month, a friend of mine contacted me asking if I’d share this story, which she can’t post on her blog for privacy reasons. She’s a writer and these are the words that tumbled to the page after her daughter’s abortion.
It wasn’t a shock to us that our 17-year-old daughter was pregnant, but it was to her. She waffled back and forth as to what she should do and enlisted our help. It didn’t take long to convince us that we would help her for a lifetime—after all, it was our grandchild.
Everyone pitched in, making sure she was properly fed. She gave up smoking, her one residual addiction, to have a healthier baby. She took her vitamins, talked constantly about the baby and glowed.
Cautiously we followed her lead as to what she wanted for the baby, her health, and her days. She picked a name for the little girl and we started collecting inexpensive but beautiful items. Her siblings began to get excited as it became everyone’s baby and she included each one in different tasks to make her life easier.
The ultrasound pictures at four months were a highlight for us. We saw baby Ezza for the first time and my daughter and her sister (who took her) were so excited as they insisted that baby had waved at them.
A week later, heavily under the influence of one friend whose advice was always short term, never long term, my daughter aborted Ezza after ten minutes of competent counseling. The baby daddy hadn’t stepped up to the plate and the friend insisted it was her body and she shouldn’t ruin her chances for better days. A cancellation at the clinic miraculously opened up—someone else would keep a child.
My grandchild is gone—permanently. My daughter who couldn’t decide what to wear each day because she was young, who can’t get a tattoo because she isn’t of legal age to get one, who had fed herself and her baby each day for health, held the hand of a stranger as she made a permanent soul choice.
Emotionally, my daughter is scarred by what she did. We now care for her as she refuses to eat, cries about what she did, wishes she had thought more about the after. We have not chastised her as she is breaking down; it may have been her choice in the moment, but she was too young to understand what a lifetime meant until seconds after her baby was taken from her body with the help of professionals. She is giving up the career she wanted because she can’t find the strength to continue.
As a family, we are shattered. Our spirits are crushed. We all cry at moments that we don’t expect, but put on brave faces for her as we hold her, stroke her beautiful hair, tell her it will be okay and pray for God to heal her. We know what a lifetime is and she is just learning. For Ezza’s sake, we continue to take care of her mother just the same as we did before she died tragically.
I appreciate my friend’s courage in sharing this personal story about how her daughter’s choice to have an abortion has affected her family. My prayers go out to my friend and her family, and to other women in difficult situations.
Some books and movies that tell the stories of women facing similar struggles include: