my abortion story

beauty from ashes
(Please forgive the roughness and messiness of this.  I hope to edit and clean it up sometime.)


The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,
Because the Lord has anointed Me
To preach good tidings to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives,
And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord,
And the day of vengeance of our God;
To comfort all who mourn,
To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the Lord,
that He may me glorified.
~Isaiah 61:1-3


My mother is an incredibly sacrificial woman. There is nothing she would not do for me, and there is nothing she has not done for me. A single mom, on and off, all my life, she tried desperately to prioritize her children. Men in and out. Some stay. Some move on. Some are kind. Some are cruel. None fit in my life. None are my “dad.” Even my dad isn't my dad. Absent so much, still I love him, and am glad for the times I get to see him, but he never knew me and I never knew him...really. It is only now that this is changing. Another chapter of my life I will soon write about, and perhaps it will be a part of this story. 
Thankfully I had the stable influence of my grandparents from about age five on. After my parents divorced, my Grandpa hustled to North Carolina, scooped my mom, me and my baby sister into the car, and drove day and night until we swung around the corner of a quaint San Diego neighborhood and he said, “Kori, do you see those lights up there? That's Grandma's house.” Yes, I saw them. I love my Grandma and Grandpa. We turned up Constellation Drive with darkness all around us. Walked through the door into the biggest house I had ever seen with its familiar smells. This was home.
Mom threw herself into nursing school – graduated at the top of her class. And if you saw her today as a nurse, you would know this is what she was created to do: to care for people. Grandma became a 24/7 influence in my life. Driving us to and from school, providing long-legged spoons for peanut butter snacks, quick trips to McDonald's for after-school ice cream sundaes, and lunches at Farrell's (Ragtime-styled) Ice Cream Parlour. We played, lived, and loved under this blessed new roof that eventually turned into an old roof and one we would always ache to be under...even today when it is no longer ours. But it will forever be ours. 

I grew and yearned to dance through life. We never could afford dance lessons and thankfully, dance was offered as an elective in my high school. It's a gift that I treasure. I excelled and loved every minute. Eventually assisting the 3rd period intermediate class, staying for 4th period advanced dance, not budging from that room all through lunch, and then running from the dance studio to fifth period government in my ballet slippers. I was a dancer in my heart, a dancer in my mind, and a dancer in my spirit. I still am today...even though things don't quite work like they once did in this bod.
I was a "good girl" all through high school.  I didn't party, smoke, drink, or hang out with people who did.  I was actively involved in Christian clubs and youth groups, a cheerleader, got good grades, was well-liked by teachers and friends, and an all-around positive and peppy person.  I went to church every Sunday but I never really knew the Lord or went deep in my relationship with Him.  I was a "good person" and felt like that's what I needed to do to be a "good Christian."  But, I never prayed unless I really wanted something and I never read the Bible except a few standard verses that any mediocre “Christian” might know. I never went really deep - I was a surface-y and shallow believer.  When I did try to read my Bible, I didn't understand what I was reading so I just skipped that part of my life as a Christian.


I graduated, went to a local community college, and tried to pursue my life.

My heart's greatest desire was to meet “the one.” I always dreamed I'd find my "Prince Charming" and live happily ever after.  All sorts of frogs came and I kissed them all and none of them turned into a prince.  My heart broken time and time again.

One asked me out numerous times.  I knew he was a "player" and slept around with a lot of girls.  We had been friends for a while. I felt confident that I could remain friendly with him without it ever turning into anything more. I refused his advances every time...except once.  Once is all it takes, unfortunately. And we are never as strong as we think. There is a reason scripture says, “Take heed where you stand, lest you fall.” (1 Cor. 10:12) We started to date and I tried to keep him at arm's distance physically until my will power was no longer enough and I stumbled into an impure relationship with him.  He held my heart and I fell wholly into my imagined life with him.  He was my friend, I trusted him. He asked me to marry him and so I naively thought maybe he would be different with me than with all of the other girls I had seen him with, but I deceived myself. As if I were more special than those others. But, no.  
Things began to go sour. Why? I don't know. We talked and he was conviced I was pregnant, while I denied it. He insisted on a test. It was very late at night. I waited quietly at his parents' house while he went to the store. The minutes crept by ever-so-slowly.  When he returned, I reluctantly did what you do with a pregnancy test. We stood in front of the bathroom counter, waiting. After a very short time, two undeniable lines began to appear. I stared in disbelief.

POSITIVE.
Nothing can smack you upside the head like a positive pregnancy test at the very moment of your life when no such thing should be happening.  I had made my bed and slept in it. I had no idea what was going to happen next. I couldn't think ahead to the next five minutes let alone the next few weeks, months, or years. My life spun off-balance and I knew it when I attempted to move through my daily routine. A dancer who can hardly stand on her own two feet. Things were way off...not just in my body, but in my life. I was stunned; in a shocked, numb stupor; totally incredulous of my current circumstance. Yet deeply convicted that I must give life to this baby - because wrong and right are black and white and doesn't change simply because my world just got turned on its head.  My reputation as a Christian was on the line and I was embarrassed about what people might think of me.  How in the world could this happen to me? Me!? No one would believe it. I couldn't believe it! Who can I tell? No one. Only him and he would tell so many; and the shame and embarrassment enveloped me. Still, I was desperate to find refuge somewhere and I could only look to him. It was a pathetically exposed hiding place, but what else did I have? So I hid.  I hid in my make-believe world with this guy. I never left his house unless I had to for school or work. I clung desperately to him.  I was afraid and trusted him only.  I made him my everything.  One problem:  he didn't want to be my everything.  

He asked me what I wanted to do. I didn't hesitate. I looked him square in the eye and said, “I can not have an abortion.” He diverted his eyes from me, and put the discussion on hold.  How he convinced me, I will never know, except that I felt like I had nothing in the world but him. Who could I disclose this secret to? No one. ...So I thought. I found myself in a place where I was convinced I could only do whatever he wanted me to do.  So, I shut down my mind and heart, all reason, and even the cry from my own body, and I agreed to an abortion.  

He made all the arrangements.


He took me to a local Planned Parenthood clinic ironically located across the street from my mom's workplace. I sat in the lobby wishing I were invisible, wondering if anyone in the room recognized me. I come from a large San Diego suburb, was well-known in my high school, but that was the extent of my popularity...still, in this town where I had spent most of my life thus far, it was often easy and common to bump into people I knew. I don't know if anyone there knew me, I imagine many were as scared as I was and didn't spend a whole lot of time checking out one another. A girl came to the door and called my name...all anonymity expelled. She introduced herself as “Toby.” "My sister's name is Tobi," I said. Not a common name and one as familiar to me as my own.  She was kind, blonde like my sister.  I took another pregnancy test. The result was the same. Toby told me my options, but I knew what I had come for and she said I was too early in my pregnancy to have an abortion (5 weeks) and I must wait two weeks.  



Two weeks = an eternity.  



I spent those weeks at my boyfriend's house, hiding.  I only left to go to school and to work. Afterward, I returned to him.  I was a zombie: no emotion, no response, no nothing.  Lethargic and mechanical, I put one foot in front of the other every second of the day until that day was over, and then I'd do it again the next.  My dancing was off and I couldn't balance.  An audition. It was off.  My life was out-of-balance and off, and spiraling to one deadly encounter that would occur in a clinic for a "routine" procedure that "women do on their lunch breaks every day."

Yes, that is what Planned Parenthood told me.

One night as I waited for my boyfriend to finish work, I secluded myself to my bedroom. Laying on my daybed, I instinctively placed my hands on my belly as billions of women have done for all time. I pondered the miracle life being created within me.  A sudden peace and excitement and sense of well-being flooded over me, and I knew that if I had this child, everything would be alright. No matter what happened.  An inexplicable thrill overwhelmed me.  I can't explain the feeling I had except that now I know it as God's overwhelming peace in the midst of our tragic storms. I naively thought my boyfriend certainly would share in the excitement.  After all, he had asked me to marry him (in total, he asked me three times).  So, I called him and told him that everything would be fine and we could have this baby.  He was not thrilled and only gave me a response that said, “We'll talk about this later.” I waited for him to meet me at my apartment. I ran down to his truck. I felt like a bird soaring the heights. But with his words and his anger, my wings were stripped from me instantly sending me into a free falling plummet and heartbreaking crash. From my elation, he jerked me back to reality and I plunged, collapsing into a disastrous heap.  We would not have this baby.  He was decided and I wanted to please him. Even when I had a severe bout with morning sickness one day, I told him and he denied it, insisting that it was not morning sickness. Ok, whatever you say, I thought. ...Because it's not a baby, I guess. You only have morning sickness when there's a baby.

The day came.  The fourteen days remain a blur to me except a few key moments. I can not recollect any more than that. I guess I just shut down except to do the things I was responsible to do. Work. School. Besides that, February 18th is the only thing I know. I don't remember where I was or where I was going.  The geographic location of the clinic remained a mystery to me until several years later when I sought the location for my own emotional and spiritual healing which I will talk about later.  My boyfriend drove me and that is all I knew.  I clung to him.  We had the cheapest procedure possible which meant I would be awake for the whole thing.  The first appointment on a Friday morning in February, we walked into the waiting room, I sat down and I don't remember much except that there was cork board covered in pro-choice bumper stickers and there were 2 or 3 people also in the waiting room.  My appointment was at 8:00 am and the next appointment was at 8:15 am.  In disbelief, I said to my boyfriend, "They do these every 15 minutes?"  "Be quiet," he said flatly with disgusted. It seemed he was disgusted with me.  And so, I remained silent unless someone asked me a question.  I was taken back and given a blood test and taken into an office where I had to sign a release form consisting of two pages and at least 30-40 side effects of the abortion including death.  I was sweet, compliant, and dead inside...all except for heart beats...mine and my baby's.  But, soon, that would change.

Somehow, I ended up in the "room" where "the procedure" was to be done to remove the "tissue."  Why change the names of things in an effort to hide the reality of what's really going on  "Removing tissue" = killing an innocent life.  Yes, "removing tissue" sounds nicer.  A nurse (or someone - as this part is a blur) kindly asked me if I wouldn't mind letting someone go ahead of me.  "Sure," I said obediently - after all, I was being compliant.  It seemed like hours I waited there...humiliated, hospital gown clad, cold, on a cold table, in a dull white room, shaking - whether from cold or nerves, surrounded by equipment and a large white, boxy machine designed to literally suck life from you.  The air was stagnant and stale.  I was alone with my thoughts - maybe even the thought of getting up and walking out.  Though I have said many times that I could have gotten up and walked away, I am not sure that option actually went through my mind at that moment, but I think it must have.  I just felt so totally alone...in a secret world that only Mark knew about...and a few of his friends. (apparently he wasn't hesitant to embarrass me).  I couldn't tell any of mine.  He was clear that continuing with this pregnancy would not please him, and my sole motive was to keep him.

My immediate reflections and even now after these 18 years give me four distinct God-is-present moments during those two agonizing weeks - opportunities that could have provided life to my helpless and voiceless child: 1. When "Toby" (namesake of my very own precious sister and I am convinced not coincidental) the counselor at my first Planned Parenthood appointment was so kind to me;  2. an evening at church where Pastor Leo Giovinetti was preaching; 3. The night I had the fleeting hope and peace that I could have this baby and all would be well; and 4. The delay at the clinic where had I allowed myself an independent thought, I may have walked away without sacrificing my baby into the hands of Molech.

The second incident, I would like to comment on.  I just watched the movie "October Baby" tonight (1-2-13) and I was compelled to send this message to Pastor Leo via Facebook:

Dear Pastor Leo, 
Nineteen years ago, I came to church to hear you preach.  Actually my boyfriend and I came.  Before service, you walked up the aisle.  I was sitting in an aisle seat.  You looked straight at me, smiled, and said hello.  I was so scared and it seemed like you could see right through me. 
When you stood up to preach, you spoke boldly about the trauma of abortion.  Detailedly, you recounted nightmares men, in particular, would have as a result of their involvement in an abortion.  I was stunned because my boyfriend had an abortion scheduled for me that week.  He commented briefly during the car ride home about your statements.  I remained dumbfounded.  A few days later, I was awash with peace over the idea of keeping my baby, but my boyfriend shattered my hope, and I foolishly complied with his wishes. 
Even though I went through with the abortion, I have never forgotten God's pointed finger on me and my boyfriend through your anointed words.Please always speak boldly the truth.  Even if some don't change their minds --- they will, at the very least, be compelled to think of the truth, and of reality.  And that is something.  Never grow weary!! 
I have since been greatly healed.  ALL GLORY TO GOD, with very special appreciation to Sharon Pearce and the amazing Post-Abortion program offered through Silent Voices.  But I wanted to tell you that I love you and you will always remain very dear to me, and I am so thankful for your true words that night.  I regret my abortion deeply, and the suffering I put my precious baby through.  But I rejoice in the healing power of the cross and in the blessed reunion I will one day have with my child who I have never seen but will one day embrace. --- O come quickly Lord Jesus!  Until then, I hope I will never be silent about life and truth and freedom and eternity. 
Bless you, Pastor Leo.  Thank you for allowing me this lengthy post.  Hallelu JAH!

So there I was at the clinic.  Finally, the moment came.  Three people entered the room.  The "doctor" was a thin, petite woman with short, blonde hair, androgynous, unfeminine.    She examined me.  "Seven weeks," she stated.  It was as if I had no feelings or was not a real person or wasn't even there.  I felt like an item on an assembly line.  Except the opposite of assembly is what was about to occur.  Everyone was either kind and pleasant; or indifferent... as if this were no big deal.  I don't know who the second woman was and I am not sure we even spoke or what her job was, but a third woman stood at my right side, eye to eye with me. Her job clearly was to  distract me.  As I lay on the table we shallowly chatted about my love of dancing, other meaningless things, and anything that forcibly came to mind while a life was being vacuumed from me.  She did her best to comfort me.  It was excruciating and loud and stupid.
I did this for a boyfriend?  ...who did not love me forever, or ever feel remorse (as far as I know...and I have had fairly recent correspondence with him, or even recognize that it was a baby. I told him once several weeks later that I had a problem with killing our baby.  His response: "To me it wasn't a baby."  I don't think I have ever wanted to punch someone like I did him at that moment.  All the pain and sacrifice I endured; and the purity, peace, innocence I had given up.

To date, there have been 55 million abortions in America since 1973 and approximately 40% of all pregnancies in America end in abortion.  Of the women who abort, half will abort again.  Truly the womb is the most dangerous place in America. (More abortion stats here.) 

 According to the statistics, 2 in 5 women have experienced at least one abortion.  If it weren't so shameful, then why isn't everyone just coming out with it?  Why are you so shocked to be hearing this story from me?   You will pass by a dozen women today who have gone through the same thing...and you will sit next to them in your church pews.  They are afraid, in denial, or ashamed to talk about it because our culture has told us that abortion has no side effects.  So, do women deduct that something must be wrong with them if they have emotional trauma over a "common procedure" that occurs thousands of times a day around the world?

 We are women.  We are life-givers. We are created to be mothers...nurturers, cuddlers, encouragers, inspiring to our children.  It is absolutely against our feminine nature to tear a baby from our bodies.

 So for $225, Mark got exactly what he wanted: no responsibility, deletion of a problem, no future child support payments - as I later discovered was his biggest worry.  And for $225, I got heartbreak, trauma, bitterness, and empty arms.

 Soon after the "procedure," I was alone...and alone in my grief and heartache and loss is where I remained for several months.  I waited in that room for a while.  Someone gave me a maxi pad (I wasn't sure where it was supposed to go since all I had on was a gown), and told me where the recovery room was.  No, no one walked me to the recovery room.  No one cared.  Once my baby was gone and they had their money, they didn't give me a second thought.  I was crampy, faint, and dizzy.  I stumbled my way to the recovery room where at least half a dozen or so cots were arranged...as many as they could fit in that tight, stifling white room; and I curled up on one of them.  All I wanted was to leave, but I didn't feel well enough to be up and walking yet.  I willed myself to stand up as soon as I could and got dressed.  I made my way to a restroom at this point, but found myself lightheaded and unstable on my feet.  I walked out of the restroom and a man walked by.  He was clearly surprised to see me wandering around.  He asked what I was doing and I told him I wanted to leave. He directed me to some place I can not remember at this point...whether it was back to the recovery room or to the exit, I don't recall.  All I wanted was for someone to take me away from there as quickly as possible.

 The way I left the clinic was not the way I came in.  A private, back-door entrance where they handed me a brown paper bag...containing birth control pills, I assume.  I never looked in the bag.  I threw it in the trash.

 Mark came in and said, "You look good."  As if surprised at my appearance.  And he never (even to this day) bothered to ask what had happened in the clinic, or how I felt, or how I was, or anything.

 How did I feel?

 Sick.
Alone.
Neglected.
Forgotten.
Ugly.
Useless.
Burdensome.
Dependent.
Worthless.
Empty.


 I spent every waking moment with Mark.  I clung to him.  He told his mother that I had had an abortion and, I guess in an effort to soften the harshness of the circumstance, she told Mark to tell me that we ought later to have another baby because it would be so cute.  So as I sat in his living room and watched his mom walk up the stairs, she directed a look of love and compassion on me and maybe pity, but silent in spite of the elephant in the room.  Yet she kept a mother's loyalty to her son.  I wished again to become invisible so I wasn't on display as the girl who killed her baby and now can't seem to function.

I must have been really attractive to my boyfriend because he called girls on his phone in his truck and told me to be quiet, he preferred his cat over me, and when my 2-week check-up appointment came, he wanted to go snow skiing.  "Please!" I begged, sobbing hysterically, desperate for him not to leave me, "I can't do this alone.  I need you!"  I pleaded and clung to him.  He did take me...grudgingly and bitterly.
The day came for my check-up appointment.  It was scheduled 2 weeks after the abortion.  I went to the same Planned Parenthood office that I had originally been taken to.

I sat in the waiting room with my boyfriend wondering if I knew anyone there or if anyone recognized me.  A door opened and my name was called.

I went back and was shown to a room where I disrobed and sat on an examination table.  On the wall to my left was an ugly picture of a naked woman with her legs sprawled.  Nice.
After a while, a woman...not looking much more welcoming than that picture invaded the room.  She was rude, unfriendly, and cold.  "So, are you still bleeding?" she barked out.  "Yes, but not in the mornings so much.  It seems to come heavier later in the day," I said calmly.  Frustrated, she responded flatly, "I asked if you were bleeding."  Clearly she wasn't interested in my emotional state.  Again, I said with more irritation this time, "Not in the mornings, but I do later in the day."  She examined me and left and I really don't remember much more about the appointment except the strong impression that Planned Parenthood, and perhaps the entire abortion industry, is as sweet as pie to you before the abortion, but the second it's over, you are a bother, a burden, and something they must quickly get rid of.  Just pay your money, sneak out the back door, and go away...seems to be their attitude.  My initial "counseling" and pre-abortion visit was kind and accommodating, but, literally, the moment the abortion was over, I was abandoned.  No one to even help me walk to the bathroom...or to, at least, point me in the right direction.

Watch the "Blood Money" documentary trailer below.


My boyfriend drove me back to his house and broke up with me.


I understand I have flung the door wide open for criticism and controversy.  Please pray.  I feel some safety since I know most of you reading this know me personally and love me, failures and all.  Thank you so much for that.  I am on the front lines in a dangerous battle over life and death.  Let's be sure that satan (he doesn't deserve the capital 's') doesn't like what I'm bringing out here, so I am a target.  "When we make a stand, we become a target." (~Sally Clarkson )  He is a great destroyer...that is his mission.  "The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy." (John 10:10a)  But, his time is short.
Please pray that when I am attacked, I will respond with grace, love, and truth.  Pray that people who don't see the unborn as living babies will have their blindness lifted and see the truth.  Abortion stops a beating heart.  Pray this will be equally about hurting women and the loss of millions of innocent lives. 1 abortion = 1 dead + 1 wounded.  Pray that men and women will see themselves as the protectors and nurturers they are created to be.  And that they will realize how absolutely satisfying those roles are; and boldly, confidently step up to be the heroes they are meant to be.  We are a culture, a generation of people who expect life to be easy and don't want any hardships.  We shirk our responsibilities and dump them on others because we "can't handle" what has been dealt us.  In our weakness, HE IS STRONG. (2 Cor. 12:9)  Tap into His power when life overwhelms you.  He will see you through and bring you out a glorious and majestic butterfly...soaring in beauty and peace.  What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

I wish I could say I let my boyfriend walk out of my life, I healed, and life was dandy, but that isn't the reality of what happened.  Remember, I was absolutely wrapped up in him and, to his defense, I was expecting far too much from him.  I had altogether placed my life in him.  He complained that I wasn't the bubbly, positive person I once was.  And that I had become too needy (Gee, I wonder why).  He didn't like that I was a dancer and had no financially-thriving future ahead of me, and I imagine the list goes on and on.
In the living room of his parents' house, he dumped me just as he was about to leave for work.  I crumbled to the floor, desperately gripped the hem of his pant leg and begged him with everything I had not to leave me.  I was totally pathetic, pitiful, and heartbroken.  A complete basket-case.  He left me on the floor and he walked out the door.  I ran after him.  He got in his car. I got in mine....crying, screaming, frantically chasing him down the road.  


This:


I don't know how far I drove or how long I followed him but I ended up at my mom's place of work and burst in the door, hysterically crying to see her.  I went to a private room and told her my boyfriend broke up with me and that there was more...

She already knew.

I sobbed and sobbed inconsolably...for weeks.  I became a drain on my mom and I was utterly wretched.  I worked, went to school, but I don't remember any of it.  I only remember that I hoped I wouldn't wake up in the morning and my tears never ran dry.  I wished for that.  I had to will myself out of bed every day.  Will one foot in front of the other.  At 20 years old, my life was a mindless, numb existence.
"I am weary with my groaning; All night I make my bed swim; I drench my couch with tears. My eye wastes away because of grief..." ~Psalm 6:6-7
I was close to my boyfriend's best friend who told me that the reason he wanted the abortion was so I wouldn't go after him for child support.  Like that even crossed my mind...especially since he had asked me to marry him multiple times.  But, a man of his word only has to ask once...and mean it.
Yet, still, I wanted to be with him.  I concluded that if he didn't want me, no one would, and so I kept trying.  I lovingly and desperately left him a gift and he coldly returned it, leaving it on my car.  I was so angry, I went to his house late at night and hurled the present at his front door...screaming at him.  What a complete wreck I was.  The result of total rejection.
  
I had one friend that I had told.  I called her, but she wasn't home.  Her mom, Renee, answered.  I cried convulsively and Renee asked me, "Are you ok?"  "No!" I cried, "my boyfriend broke up with me..."  "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said.  I blurted out, "And I had an abortion!"  Brokenness.  More tears.  The other line was silent and all I heard was, "Whoa."  --Renee is the wife of a pastor and one of the most fantastic Christian women I have ever met.  Praise God she was on the other end of the phone that night.  I lay in my sister's bed talking to her.  She said, "I am going to pray for you."  And she began to pray.  I closed my eyes.  I have no recollection of what she said, but I was overwhelmed as if immersed in an ocean of peace.  In my heart, I suddenly knew that everything was going to be alright.  ...That I was going to be alright.  I can't explain the feeling except to those of you who have experienced it yourselves.  You are in the midst of the most tempestuous and turbulent storm of your life, things catapult and whirl past you, yet you are tranquil and unmoved...as if an impenetrable bubble surrounds you and nothing can harm or even touch you.  I felt like I was floating.  The burdensome and suffocating weight I had borne had completely vanished.  "Amen."  The word meaning, "so be it" anchored deep in my soul.  "So," I said, "what do I do now?"  "Do you have a Bible?"  "No," I said, "but my sister does."  I still remember it...blue leather, silver on the side, large and heavy.  Renee said, "Read the Psalms."  I got off the phone, and I began reading the Psalms.  But, I didn't just read, I wrote down nearly every one, I cross-referenced...without even really knowing what that was.   I devoured the Word!  "Really?!  Does the Bible really come alive like this?" I thought.  I couldn't believe how the words spoke directly to me and my circumstances.
You have filled my heart with greater joy. (Ps. 4:7)
I will lie down and sleep in peace, for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety. (Ps. 4:7)
Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my sighing.  Listen to my cry for help, my King and my God, for to You I pray.  In the morning, O Lord, You hear my voice; in the morning I lay my request before You and wait in expectation. (Ps. 5:1-3) 
Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am faint; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are in agony.  My soul is in anguish.  How long, O Lord, how long?  Turn, O Lord, and deliver me; save me because of Your unfailing love.  I am worn out from groaning; all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears...  The Lord has heard my weeping.  The Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer. (Ps. 6)
O Lord, I have done this and there is guilt on my hands--I have done evil to him who is at peace with me... (Ps. 7:3-4)
The victim commits himself to You; You are the helper of the fatherless. (Ps. 10:14) 
As if that were all.  But, no, the Psalms were my greatest comfort.  A link to reality and peace and hope.

For my birthday, which was only days after this phone call, a friend gave me a sweet, pink Bible.

Oh, how I wish you could see my beloved Bible!  Entire sections fall out, some pages are so dearly loved, that I can't even turn them because they have become so fragile.  I have highlighted and written in margin after margin and any blank space I could find.  God's Word is a deep and vast treasure to my soul.  How I LOVE His Word!!  How often I take it for granted.  But, I truly, truly adore His love letter written to me for my redemption, salvation, and healing.  To this day, every time I am at a Bible study, and the leader asks, "What are some names of God?"  My response always is and will forever be: "HEALER!"  He is my blessed Healer, more dear to my heart than any person or thing or all of creation.  How very thankful and indebted I am!


"Into the darkness You shine.  Out of the ashes we rise.  There's no one like You.  None like You.  Our God is greater.  Our God is stronger.  God, You are higher than any other.  Our God is Healer, awesome in power.  Our God.  Our God!"  (-Chris Tomlin)


I digress a bit to just share my emotional state at this very moment of writing.  The rejection of my boyfriend was possibly more emotionally devastating to me than the abortion, initially.  I have so much pain when I tell this part of my story, and I can not, to this day, share it without crying.  So, as I write, I go there all over again.  But, I have to tell you, that picking up that old, worn, pink Bible and reading the circled, underlined, and highlighted passages delivers me from that pain instantaneously.  Because the love of God is far greater than any pain dealt to us in this life.  He is a good, holy, jealous God.  Jealous for me and jealous for you.  He loves you so much and is your all in all.  Hurl yourself into His arms.  Cling to Him.  He will never let go of you.  Thank You, Father.  Thank You, Jesus, for delivering me from the pit of hell, even my own hell.  He came "that we may have life, and that we may have it more abundantly." (Jn. 10:10b)

Ok, so three days after this phone call, I called Renee again and said, "I've finished the Psalms, now what do I do?"  I think she was a little shocked.  I actually walked from class to class at Grossmont College reading my Bible.  There was a guy in my French class that would lovingly tease me about it.  But I was enraptured with God's word.  It became my life.
Renee told me to read through Proverbs.  When I finished that, she led me through a Bible Study called "The Woman God Wants."  Wow!  Was that an eye-opener!  Haha!  For someone who is strong-willed, independent, and sassy, I had a lot to learn about my role as a woman.   But, it is such a beautifully fulfilling role.  And so easy to melt into...if we only have a heart to obey His Word.  And obedience brings peace.

There was still a major problem, though.  The guilt of my abortion remained a hindrance to me and I would have meltdowns often.  One night, while having one of these meltdowns, I found myself on Renee's door step desperately needing comfort.  She is so wise...  
she told me she had a guest over who worked with a group called Silent Voices and that Silent Voices held a post-abortion syndrome workshop that helped women cope with and heal from their abortions.  She signed me up and paid my way.

A few weeks later, I stepped out of my car in a Chula Vista parking lot, potluck dish in hand.  There was a beautiful Hispanic woman in the parking lot.  "Surely, she isn't here for the workshop, too?" I thought.  But, she was.  We'll call her "Mona" and, as it turned out, she was the most prominent personality of the entire weekend.  Her story.  Her emotion.  The utter incomprehensibility of her situation sent our jaws to the floor.  But, that's jumping ahead.  So, let me back up.

Up the stairs we went...thoughts and curiosities of the other floating through our heads.
Me:  "She seems so put together.  I'm a mess.  How can we possibly be here for the same thing?"
Her:  "She's so young.  Too young to come to something like this."
In reality, I was young.  Just turned 20.  Of the 8 women, I was easily the youngest, not to mention the most recent woman to have aborted.  The oldest was in her 50's and the nearest to my age was in her 30's.  Women who had carried their dark secret for so long.  It had depressed them, caused them pain, cost them their marriages, led to adultery, multiple abortions, lives of chaos, confusion, despair.

 A number of women live in a version of post-abortive grief and loss for years.  How grateful I am that my devastation did not last indefinitely.  So many hurting women I have met spend decades grieving the loss of their children, often taking their guilt to the grave.  God has been so graciously merciful to me, and I am forever thankful.

So, I guess abortion isn't the convenient, do-it-quickly-during-your-lunch-break, there-are-no-emotional-or-physical-side-effects "procedure" our culture tells us it is.

(oh no!  I am forgetting them!  These beautiful women that healed alongside me ...and their stories.  Jesus, please help me to remember.)

We all shared our stories that first night.
"Laura" had 9 abortions and seemed indifferent to them all.
"Debbie" had become a prostitute.
"Mona" hid her pregnancy from her parents while she was away at boarding school as a teenager...because she wanted to keep her baby.  Her parents found out, convinced her to come home, and dragged her from clinic to clinic for a forced abortion.  Each time she was left alone in a room, she would beg the doctor for the life of her baby.  This worked until she ended up at yet another abortion provider: Kaiser.  They refused her pleas and attempted the abortion.  She fled down the hallway and locked herself in a bathroom where, at 8 months pregnant, the trauma sent her into labor.  She gave birth to her baby right there in the bathroom.  When a nurse finally got the door open, she took Mona's brand new beautiful baby boy, dumped him in a bucket, and set him on a shelf to die.

We all stared in disbelief.  What a terrible thing for someone to have to go through!

And there were more stories.

And there was healing.  We shared, cried, prayed, read scripture, bonded, forgave.

I am CREATED IN THE IMAGE OF GOD.
I am CHOSEN.
I am PROTECTED BY GOD.
I am FORGIVEN.
I am THE APPLE OF GOD'S EYE.
I am WASHED CLEAN FROM MY SINS.
I am AT PEACE WITH GOD.
I am a NEW CREATURE IN CHRIST.
I am STRONG TO THE END.
I am SET FREE.
I am FREE FROM CONDEMNATION.

3 days of intensity.  3 days of truth.
After 3 days Jesus rose from the dead.

A letter written to my baby in heaven.  Safe in the arms of Jesus.  No more pain.  Awaiting a reunion with his "mommy."

"I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me."
~2 Sam. 12:24b

"And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.  When the Son sets you free, you are free indeed!" ~John 8:32, 36


Time passed.  I shared my story here and there...but never as in depth as you are reading right now.  I've visited the very clinic that took my baby, and have read the literature of lies they hand out to people men who have sat in their waiting room.  I have requested my "paperwork" and I still have it.  I've met numerous women who came clean with their story after they heard mine.  And some who didn't know why, but knew they could tell me.
And, yes, some have healed.  Some have been saved.
ALL PRAISE BE TO GOD.

I have spoken to my "boyfriend" of that time.  And, no, he has not, to my knowledge, owned up to the truth that a life was lost that day.  But, I have forgiven him in my heart and have been able to express that verbally as well as in writing.  He is well.  He has beautiful daughters and a wife, and is successful in his work.  May he one day look at his precious girls and understand fully that those are not his only children, and may he seek forgiveness and healing.  May God bless him and his family and lead them wholly to His kingdom.

Me?  I have danced this story.  I have spoken this story.  Now, I have written this story.  But, mostly, I have LIVED this story...and I continue to live it.  Because my life will always point back to that day of peripety.


Do you know my name, Kori, means "pure," "maiden," "virgin?"  As seen through God's eyes.



The Lord has appeared of old to me, saying: "Yes, I have loved you with an everlasting love;  Therefore with lovingkindness I have drawn you.  Again I will rebuild you, and you shall be rebuilt, O virgin of Israel!  You shall again be adorned with your tambourines, And shall go forth in the dances of those who rejoice."  ~Jeremiah 31:3-4
I have my own 2 beautiful boys.  Brandon and Silas.  And I will never forget my precious one in Heaven.
But, most of all, I have a husband - who is "better to me than ten sons." (1 Samuel 1:8)  He was there through my weeks of tears.  He was there every day after my time at Silent Voices.  He was there to hold my hand when the Lord prompted me to share my story.  He was there when I danced this story.  He was there.  A friend.  Trustworthy, true, strong, comforting.  Little did I know that the man who helped me through the very worst and hardest time of my life would one day be my husband.  He knew it.  God knew it.  But, I didn't ...not until 8 years later.  What a treasured friend and husband I have.

And he has been witness to many tragedies of my life since.  He is a rock.  He is my protector.  He is my balance.  He is wonderful.

He is still here.

God knows best.  He wants to give us His best.

Thus far hath the Lord helped us. ~1 Samuel 7:12
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. ~Psalm 30:5b
As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us. ~Psalm 103:12
There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus. ~Romans 8:1a
And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. ~Romans 8:28
But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive. ~Genesis 50:20
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  Now, if we are afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effective for enduring the same sufferings which we also suffer.  Or if we are comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation." ~2 Corinthians 1:3-7


So, you have read my story.  What will you do with it?

Do you know Jesus?  Have you found your life's salvation and hope in Him?  Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me." (John 14:6)  It's a narrow gate and a narrow way that leads to the one true God.  But, it is the only way.  "Do you believe what you really believe is really real?"  I do.  All you have to do is confess to God you are a sinner and invite Jesus to come into your life.  The prayer is easy.  "Call unto me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things which you do not know." (Jeremiah 33:3)  Then live your life for Him.  He will help you.  Go to a Bible-teaching church.  Obey Him.  It's the least we can do for all He has done for us.  "All day long I have stretched out My hands..." (Romans 10:21)  "For the joy that was set before Him, He endured the cross, despising the shame..."  (Hebrews 12:2. My paraphrase.)  He had his eyes on you.  You are His joy.  He died for you and in your place.  ("The wages of sin is death." -Romans 6:23)


Have you aborted?  Have you recognized the truth of the situation?  Don't be overwhelmed, heal.  Call Silent Voices.  619-422-0757.  Go to a workshop and live a free life.  Silent Voices has very helpful information.  God can do great things in your life.  If you are depressed, you don't have to live that way.  "For such a time as this" God has you in this world.  And He has an incredible purpose for you.

Are you pregnant and you don't know what to do?  There are millions who want to help you.  Silent Voices is a great start...or any pro-life pregnancy care center near you.  http://www.silentvoices.org/ or call 619-422-0757.  Please let me know if you would like me to help you find a good pregnancy care center that can help you.

Share this story on your blog, on your facebook page, Twitter, email, whatever.  Print it and share it.  Maybe in all this writing, one person will heal or one person will turn to Jesus or one baby will be given life.

Thank you so dearly for your time.  I do not take lightly the commitment you have made to read this and, possibly, to invest emotionally.  It is long.  It is true.  It is another step in my own healing.  But, most of all, it is my testimony of the love, healing, redemption, mercy, salvation of an exquisite and enchanting God who sees everything we go through and He cares.  He wants us to be wholly dependent on Him.

"You turned for me my mourning into dancing.
Your removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.
In the end that my soul may sing praise to You 
and not be silent.
O Lord, my God, I will give You thanks FOREVER."
~Psalm 30:11-12

Books that helped me through this dark time in my life:
  • The Holy Bible
  • Streams in the Desert by Mrs. Charles E. Cowman
  • I'll Hold You in Heaven by Jack Hayford
Other posts related to my abortion:
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