Little did I know that day marked the beginning of eight long years of living in hell. I began to have nightmares all the time; the picture of my dead child wouldn’t leave my mind.
I began to drink a lot, and also did a lot of drugs. I started blaming my parents for allowing me to go through the abortion. I withdrew from my friends and family. But even after having two children, I couldn’t get the abortion off my mind. My marriage was falling apart and I really didn’t care. My mother threatened to take my children from me but I still didn’t care.
Finally, I knew what I had to do. I wanted to give my life to Jesus Christ, and I wanted to walk the aisle at church so everyone would know. I made my profession of faith and was baptized.
*Posted with permission of Elliot Institute
