*This is a deeply personal testimony, so disrespectful comments will not be tolerated.
In 2005 I was a single mom of 2 girls( and 1 in heaven) trying to overcome the pain of being raped and dealing with a divorce and domestic violence. I was trying to find myself, and in the process found a man who’s arms I could fall into. He was kind and caring, good with my girls, and he played a significant role in me overcoming my abuse and dealing with my rape trauma. He wasn’t without his own demons though. Dealing with a dynfunctional mother, and trauma from being in the Marine Corps and what he had seen and done there.
We were both equally broken. The relationship had it’s ups and downs. We couldn’t both be broken for long before someone cracked. Though I knew pre-martial sex was wrong, I never cared enough about myself not to give into the preassures of it. We used protection, but just like with my oldest daughter, even that eventually failed me and I became pregnant. By then we had broken up, deciding things just couldn’t work between us, so I was alone with no way to contact him and tell him of the pregnancy because of his own family drama. At the time I was living with my mother and largely dependant on her because I didn’t have the income I needed to completely support myself. Somehow, some way , she knew something was up and started dropping hints that if I was pregnant again I would have to go elsewhere. I brushed it off, denying my pregnancy. I knew I wouldn’t be able to deny it forever, so I started making phone calls. I called our local crisis pregnancy center, and told them of my dilema. They put me in touch with a home, but they only took in abused women. I was directed to another, which only served teen mothers. Another referral refused to help me because I had other children that would have to come and live in the home with me. The last refferal I was give would have taken me, but they were full, and would be for some time.
When I had finally run out of options I made the only call left that I could. I called to arrange a meeting with an abortion counselor ( the first step in obtaining an abortion). I was pro-life at the time, and this went against everything that I was ever taught, but I had 2 little girls depending on me to feed them, and clothe them, and keep a roof over thier heads, and keep them safe. I knew my mother well enough to know she would make good on turning us away. As much as I loved the baby growing inside me, I loved my living children and felt a motherly need to protect them first and foremost. There was also the matter that because of my numerous health issues any pregnancy I enter into is automatically considered high-risk. A situation that would have ben even more dangerous living on the street. The closer the appointment came though the more I already hated myself. Could I really go through with it?
The night before my appointment I started bleeding heavily, my children were already asleep for the evening and I was alone. I gave birth to my son in the bathroom, and in a fit of confusion and horror. I flushed my tiny son (I would have ben about 6-7 weeks) down the toilet. I finally was able to tell Devan’s father about his short life and death a month after his passing. His response to me was esentially that he had other commitments and couldn’t deal with me or my grief. I hated myself and blamed myself for his death, that I was unworthy of him because I had planned to abort. That he hated me somehow. It was only after going through a bible study for mothers who had lost babies in pregnancy that I began to heal. In the beginning, I had named him Devan, because it was gender neutral and at the time I wasn’t sure weather he had been a boy or a girl. It wasn’t until much later in a dream that he revealed his gender and full name, Devan Michael. I will always miss Devan, and I will always love him the same as I love his siblings both here and in Heaven. I now know that he forgives me, and that HE loves me.