Why I Came Out as a Post-Abortive Christian Woman (Whitney's Story, Part 1)

Yes...I'm going there. Before I tell you what the purpose of this is, let me tell you what it is not. This is not a public confession of a past sin - I've already done that to the only person who has the power and position to require that...He was very gracious to me (Rom 8:1). This is also not a "battle-cry" for every other post-abortive Christian woman to "come out of the closet". This is my story of what happens when you stop running from God's call on your life, come to a place of surrender, and move on with it.

First off, to understand where we are going, you need a little information on where I am coming from…

I had an abortion at the tender age of sixteen.  As with every life-changing event there are many details I'll skip over (unless you're a post-abortive woman and would like to talk).  I will say that the same issues that influenced my behavior prior to my abortion are the same issues that influenced my decision to have an abortion...fear of rejection, insecurity, low self-image.

Now, everyone has a different experience, but there are some behaviors that are pretty consistent with many post-abortive women.  You would think that a teenage pregnancy and subsequent abortion would snatch a "good girl" back on the right path.  Well...you'd be wrong.  You see, once that line has been crossed, fear, insecurity, and low self-image have some new friends to pile on...self-condemnation and self-loathing topped with a crippling heap of guilt.  For me, that manifested itself into a very tightly wound Type A, high-strung, focused, stubbornly independent and driven young woman.  These traits are not inherently bad or destructive unless they are, in fact, your best-attempt to keep your mess pressed down so you don't have to think about it or yourself.

I'm now skipping over the many details of a decade of hard work, hard play, and toxic relationships....

However, God is so good.  In spite of myself He brought an incredible man into my life.  Praise God…I had a momentary flash of lucidity when he asked me to marry him.

Ours is a beautifully ordinary story.  We married, moved to Charlotte, and started our family. After the birth of our first child, the hunger for validation through my work ceased.  Thus began my journey as a full-time stay-at-home-mom. I loved it, and two years later we were blessed with a second son.  I comfortably settled into my sweet family bliss.  For the first time in my life, I felt completely sure of my purpose. There was only one problem, though, as I began to mature in my spiritual life my sons were growing also.  For the first time my heart came face to face with what I had done all those years ago.  As I watched my boys develop their own personalities, friends, and interests, the gravity of the lie I bought into so long ago rained down on me.  You see, having two boys so close in age made me realize that they weren't my "do over,” they were not "copies" of my aborted child. They were the "people" God had ordained them to be from the beginning of time. (Eph.1:4-5)  The lie our culture is being fed that "It's not even a baby yet. It’s only tissue; it's like getting a tooth pulled…" is a lie straight from the pit of hell.  In my heart, I knew that truth at sixteen, and as a woman in her mid-thirties my heart was now breaking over it. Praise God that the science of today can now show how perfectly put together a baby is very early into pregnancy. Advance technology has been no friend to our pro-choice brothers and sisters.

What to do, what to do.  I knew the time had come that I had to tell my husband, Burges.  Now, I had not kept it from him out of fear, I just didn't think it involved him (no - I didn't have a Godly understanding of marriage either).  After all I didn't even know him until many years beyond sixteen. But, again, God is so good.  He convicts us in small bites that we can digest. If He had brought all of this down on me at one time I would have broken completely.  I did tell Burges and, as is his way, he was so kind.  He reassured me that I was a good mom.  He would forgive me, but more importantly reminded me that God had forgiven me too.  I desperately needed to hear that and it was helpful. However, I remained severely messed up.

I thought "confessing" to my husband would "fix" me, but it didn't. Oh, it helped, but you see, the thing about carrying around a secret is that it's very isolating.  Now, I'm not talking about a secret that someone has entrusted to you (although you have to be careful about that, too). I'm talking about your own "if anyone ever knew who I really was or what I've done they would..." kind of secret. The kind of secret that erodes your self-worth, value, and confidence.  The kind of secret that produces a facade that takes an extraordinary amount of energy to project to the world.  The kind of secret that will make you completely overcrowd your calendar intentionally, making sure there is no down time, because as long as you stay distracted you don't have to think too much and risk facing what you have made a life running from.  You see, that's where Satan likes us.  If we stay isolated in our minds and physically busy, he is able to play the tapes of self-incrimination over and over again until they begin to provide a twisted and familiar comfort.  "Of course I can't do (insert any new spiritual endeavor here), God would never bless a woman "like me" to shine for Him.  I'll just stay in the background and be grateful for the crumbs."

Around this time I was in a Bible Study with some other young moms. This season of life was filled with play-dates, new friendships, and a newfound desire for God's Word.  I loved my once-a-week study…not only because it provided free childcare, but I loved the women I was making friends with and the spiritual maturity I saw in them.  I made the comment often that I never expected to have such sweet relationships in my adult life!  It was a special time.

On a certain day, the topic of abortion came up in our study.  Now for the non-post-abortive women (or men) reading this, I'll tell you what goes on when that happens, because there is a lot of effort in this particular moment to cover it up and we post-abortive women do it pretty well.  First, all of the air is sucked out of our lungs.  Second is the recognition that we're not breathing.  Third, we're not hearing anything anyone is saying for the next few seconds because all we hear is the sound of our hearts beating so fast we fear we're going into a-fib. No, I’m not being dramatic.  Finally, by this time our lungs are crying for the air we've deprived them of and basically we are just trying to not hyper-ventilate and pass out - all without anyone noticing.  This is no easy feat.  However, even with all of this going on, I began to feel like maybe that day, I could confide in my friends the weight I had been carrying. After all, we were studying about the blood of Christ covering all of our sins, redemption, restoration, etc.  I took a deep breath to speak and suddenly one of my friends threw her hands in the air, pushed back from the table and said, "Who does this? What kind of woman would kill her child?  I don't even know anyone like this."

As I write these words years later, the tone and disgust in her voice still rings in my ears…and it still stings. Needless to say, I swallowed my words.  I continued to attempt to regulate my breathing and I shut my mouth.  Tight.  And I kept it shut for a very, very, very long time.  That was all the confirmation I needed to know I was on my own and my secret must be kept to myself.  It was clear that if any of these sweet church friends knew how awful I really was, I would be totally rejected because they would not associate with someone like me.  While I remained physically engaged, emotionally I protected myself by further isolating my mind. Satan loved this, I’m sure, because it gave him unencumbered reign in my thoughts and mind. After my friend's heartfelt disclosure I sat there and nodded in agreement with everyone else.

Why?  Because that's what we do.

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(Please CLICK HERE for Part 2 of Whitney's story - - Subscribe to Just the other day... by Email so that you never miss a post!)

Linking up at:

Titus 2sdays, Teach Me Tuesday, Raising Homemakers

Whitney Burrows is a North Florida girl raised on the banks of her beloved Suwannee River and Gulf Coast.  After 12 years in the world of banking, she moved into full-time- homemaker mode as mom to James and Pearce, and wife to Burges.  The last 18 years have been a fun flurry of sports, meal prep, scraped knees, room/team mom, chauffeuring, and volunteering.  Whitney lives for all things family, friends, southern, and outdoors.  She has been extremely blessed by God’s grace and loves encouraging women to embrace the abundant life promised to us by our Savior. She believes life becomes a wonderful (but not always easy) adventure when we stop running from the Lord, listen to His voice, and trust in His call on our lives. 

For His glory,

Number Three Turns Four

Just the other day...our precious Abigail made her debut in this world. As a matter of fact, it was four years ago! I thought singing the birthday song all day and talking about her being four would make the reality of this milestone more real, but so far, that has not happened. I still can't wrap my brain around her being four!

Abbie's arrival was full of joy, but soon met with overwhelming anxiety. You can read that story here. I remember countless hours spent rocking and singing my sweet Abbie to sleep. I also remember the tears streaming down my face while my other two girls played just outside the door, unable to fully take care of them anymore...or so I felt. My heart was pulled in so many directions after having our third. I was in survival-mode far too often. I can only pray my kids don't have to dish out mega-bucks in therapy fees as a result!

If any child has been a challenge from day one, Abbie has been it! She is sneaky and head-strong. If you tell her "don't do it", she's going to do it...with a twinkle in her eye! This is my child who actually laughs as she's being scolded for getting into trouble. But for all the mischief and grief she has put me through, she is as sweet as they come...and I'm not just saying that!

Abbie loves fiercely. She's the first one to let out a long, southern-twanged, "Awwwwww!", when she sees something cute, like a puppy or a baby. She's the first one to jump up and say, "I'll help!" when asked. She takes care of her big sisters just as much as, or at times even more than, they take care of her. And, Abbie gives the tightest around-the-neck hugs I have ever experienced. You know it when you've had a hug from that little love bug!

Abbie also loves to talk. I thought my ears were tired before she came along, but oh wow, they were just being conditioned for the years to come! The child has something to say allllll day long! She's the kind of child that  "never meets a stranger", so consider yourself warned. She'll have you roped into a conversation in a skinny minute!

Being the baby that she is, Abbie is also incredibly cute. She oozes cute! Everything she does is cute (well, almost). From performing made-up dances in the living room to singing worship songs to the top of her lungs to saying the prayer before we eat, the child will melt your heart. And there's not a heart alive that has been melted quite as much as her daddy's heart. Those two are so taken with each other!! The bond they have is really beautiful to watch.

Sometimes I think about how we almost didn't have an "Abbie"...and it makes my heart ache in a big way. Oh the blessings we would have missed out on!! There was excuse after excuse after excuse for not having a third child, but then someone in ministry made us really stop to think about the root of all of our excuses. Simply put, all of our excuses were purely selfish.

From day one, our sweet Abigail has taught us surrender in a way we previously hadn't known. She has been a catalyst to giving up control and letting God take the reigns in a greater way. Two children?  Well,that felt "do-able", but three has honestly been more than I felt I could handle in my perfectionistic, do-it-all-just-right head...and that's a good thing! My crew keeps me at the feet of Jesus, right where I need to be kept.

I'm sure the days ahead are faced with more challenges as I try to parent this one who is often a puzzle. However, I am just as positive that there's a ton of love and hugs, lengthy conversations, and utter cuteness around the bend. And you know what? I can't wait to soak in the joy of it all, thanking God each day for the beautiful gift He has given me in my precious, spunky Abigail!

"Children are a heritage from the Lord,

    offspring a reward from him."

Psalm 127:3

Princess #3 and a Panic Attack

Today, on Princess #3's second birthday, I was reminded of a blog post I wrote a while back and never shared...honestly...out of pride. I didn't want to be seen as weak. If you listened to the recent radio show I was on, you'll recall that I said something like, "I don't get much out of a relationship when people aren't real. When we open up and get really honest, then we can encourage and inspire each other." It was something like that. Anyways, I stepped on my own toes with that one! So, here it is...my story of weakness exposed in hopes the Lord can use it to help one of you!

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Just the other day, I was as still as I could be as my upper chest passed through the open tube of the massive machine. Alone, in that cold room, with my heart racing and unexplained pressure in my chest, I quoted scripture one after the other after the other. I prayed desperately that this wasn’t “it” for me. The ER doctor had ordered the CAT scan about an hour earlier, after blood had been drawn and other tests performed. My precious husband and mother were waiting back in the examining room, their own emotions running wild as they tried in vain to quiet my very hungry 5-day-old baby girl.

Fear had enveloped me months before as a doctor coaxed me into voluntary house arrest due to the H1N1 virus spreading through our community. “Pregnant women are dying from this flu and we don’t know why” he had said. Then, as time inched closer to my third c-section, all I could think of was the last c-section when my epidural had not worked. What if it didn’t work this time? What if they had to put me to sleep again? Last time, I was blissfully unaware of the risks. This time, I knew them all too well.

Thankfully, our baby girl entered this world on a blustery-cold November morning, beautiful and healthy as can be! During my c-section, the epidural had not worked, but thankfully the “spinal” did. Our little princess was precious from the start, but also about as cranky as they come! So, after arriving home, more fearful thoughts began, “How in the world am I going to handle a baby that cries constantly along with two other young children at home?” I tried to push those thoughts out of my head and told myself the continual crying was temporary. Surely things would be better by the time my parents went back home (they had come to help out for a little over week).

On top of all of my apprehension, while trying to heal, some nasty complications developed from the surgery…things I hadn’t experienced after my previous c-sections. I had noticed pressure developing in my chest, but with so much going on, I brushed it off. Then, a few heart palpitations started and I began to take notice a little more. Within hours, I was getting short of breath, so I finally called my doctor. “Get to the ER!” she said…along with something about the possibility of blood clots.

I had tried for weeks to get a handle on the fear growing within me. I even called on friends to pray for me. Still, the comforting peace that I was accustomed to could not be found, and that was confusing! I was tempted to take it as God’s answer that this was “it” and soon I’d be seeing Him face-to-face! Looking back, that thought seems so ridiculous, but I can assure you at the time, fear caused me to waver.


Ultimately, after over four hours in the ER, it was determined that I had just suffered my first, and prayerfully, my last, panic attack. It was not a fun experience to say the least. I struggled with what to do with the news. I wish I could say that all of my feelings of anxiety vanished immediately, but unfortunately they didn’t. For weeks after that, I would begin to feel the pressure in my chest and then cry out to the Lord for help. Thankfully, I never had another attack. I feel certain that my raging pregnancy hormones had a lot to do with it. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.

So why didn't peace come immediately for me? I can't tell you. Sometimes answers come easily, sometimes they don't. I do believe that it was some sort of a test for me. It’s like God was saying, “You know I love you, baby girl, but this time I want you to stand on your own spiritual two feet and fight. You may not feel me, but you KNOW I’m with you. I’ve told you in my Word and proven it to you over and over again. Trust me.”

I felt like fear was like a blanket of darkness covering me and trying to smother me. I may have stumbled around in the darkness a bit, but Praise Him, I did not fall! The unseen hand of my Father was grasping mine the entire time. His Word says, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10) Also, Psalm 37:23-24 says, "If the LORD delights in a man's way, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the LORD upholds him with his hand."

I know that many times the Lord does indeed comfort and guide by His peace. However, there are times when, for whatever reason, that "feeling" doesn’t come. Are we to be led by our feelings? Absolutely not! He’s still “got” us even when we don’t feel like He’s anywhere around! The Word says, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.  If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.” (Psalm 139:7-10) 

The Lord also speaks of those who are His in John 10:29 when He says, "My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of My Father’s hand." Did you read that?! We are His and He ALWAYS takes care of His children. He is ALWAYS with us, whether we “feel” Him or not. When He seems to hide, we are to stand firm in what we KNOW. It’s at those times more than ever that we must stand firm on the promises of His Word!

One of my all-time favorite quotes is from a powerful woman of God named Corrie Ten Boom:

“Faith is believing in the dark what God spoke to you in the light.”

Exactly.

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*Linking up at Raising Homemakers, Women Living Well, Joy in this Journey, and A Pause on the Path

For His glory,

Stitched with Great Love

Just the other day...I finally did it. I got out all the little baby clothes I had tucked away and started cutting them up...sweet little nightgowns and cute little play outfits that once held my tiny bundles of joy. It was bittersweet as I fought back tears and I rejoiced all at the same time...sad over the moments now gone, but proud about the precious trio of girls that continually bless my days.

At one point, I actually held a few pieces close to my face, trying desperately to get one last whiff of baby smell. It wasn't there. And I found myself longing, oh just once more to breathe in that sweet-baby-aroma. To a mother, such a smell is intoxicating.

Life is strange and confusing and wonderful all at the same time. Once I was a sleep-deprived, desperately-tired mommy, wishing for the time that my house would finally sleep again...all of us from night until morning. And now, I sometimes long to get up during the quiet midnight hours to nurse and rock and soothe my baby, holding her close to my heart. I know that for me, those days are over...sweet memories now etched upon my heart forever...and it came all too soon.

I will cherish those memories and think of those days and try desperately to pour that love into something tangible for each daughter...a quilt. It won't be perfect...in fact, its imperfections will readily show (a reflection of the seamstress herself). But when nights are cold and times are dark, Lord willing, it will be there to comfort and warm and convey unending admiration...whispering about a love so deep it began as a prayer in a young woman's heart.

The label will read:

Handmade

with love

 from Mama

...and it will surely be the truth!

I've heard it said that our children are gifts that we send out into the future. I just happen to believe that a quilt stitched with great love can be that, too.

*Linking up at Micellany Monday
and Raising Homemakers 

For His glory,