#ThisIsMyStory I am turning 27 in two months and already a mother of three. Three dead children. And no, I didn’t have any miscarriage. I willingly aborted my three babies. I know you’ll think, wait, is she human? I grew up in a loving home, had everything I needed, wanted and anything else in between. I was pretty much a daddy’s girl so my childhood was full of our outdoor adventures and lots of pampering.
All was rosy until my dad got retrenched, drowned himself in alcohol and turned abusive. I can count the nights we slept home in our beds. Majority of the nights we were chased out into the cold to sleep on verandas. Every night was a terror, afraid of what chaos he would arise. Some nights he would come and start beating her for no reason and no matter how much we tried to fight back, I was too little to help. I was barely nine years old then. The kicks and slaps would occasionally land on me and mum had to take the easiest route out, escape with her kids.
I never understood how my hero turned out to be my greatest nightmare. So I grew up with this deep ache and void that I couldn’t tell anyone because well, who wants to share that they live in an abusive home and every day as darkness approaches they want to die and escape the living hell??
The first man who gave me attention and tender loving swept me off my feet. I had just turned 18. I gave him my all but he didn’t reciprocate. Turned out he just wanted an easy lay.
Before I could figure out the next step I got pregnant. We were both in first year at campus, he couldn’t support a family, I didn’t want to make things worse at home so I got my first abortion. And boy did it make me a wreck, I turned promiscuous, sleeping around to numb the pain and give me a temporary distraction. E-pills became a daily diet. Didn’t take me long and I got pregnant again, this time with a married man. And again I was afraid of the shame it would bring me and the fear that I couldn’t support my baby so I aborted.
This spiraled me worse and five months later I was pregnant for the third time only that this time I wasn’t sure who was the dad so I couldn’t face it and my third abortion was procured. I was barely 24, all alone, couldn’t open up for fear of stigma so I turned to drinking and sleeping around. I struggled with my shame and my pain for so long till one night I dragged myself to church and broke down in tears. I wanted God to let me die but He wasn’t done with me clearly.
That night He reached down and whispered softly that I was His and if I allowed Him, He was able to rescue me, rebuild me and restore me. I surrendered my life to Him that day and it’s been one year and four months of walking with him in Purity (Yes, abstinence is possible only through His grace). Do I still think of my babies, yes I do. Am I feeling guilty? No. There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Am forgiven of my past and healed of my pain.
Though I never got a chance to truly reconcile with my dad, his depression got to him and he committed suicide, but I hold no bitterness in my heart. I love him to bits even in death because at the end of it all, it’s the good memories that carry me through and above all, God’s Grace and unconditional love.
PS: #ThisIsMyStoryCampaign lets you open up, anonymously, about your struggles & how you deal with them. To take part, send your story to [email protected].
Follow the series on Facebook @MarkMaishCom