I Had an Abortion

And that terrible secret was killing our marriage.

By Lysa TerKeurst, as told to Dawn Zemke

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You're late. Again," I said as I glared at my husband, Art.

As I lay in bed one night after seeing our third counselor, I was overwhelmed by hopelessness. No one seemed able to help us—not even God.

"I'm sorry. Traffic was a nightmare."

Not the traffic excuse again, I fumed as I filled Art's plate and slapped it onto the table. We'd been married only two months, but the honeymoon phase was definitely over—in fact, it had never existed.

I forced myself to eat despite the tension crackling between us. As Art took a bite, I was sure I saw an odd expression cross his face.

"What's wrong?" I demanded.

He frowned. "Nothing!"

"You made a funny face. You don't like it, do you? You hate my cooking!" And you hate me, I mentally added.

Art slammed down his fork. "What is wrong with you? You're behaving like a nutcase! You overreact to everything, and it's driving me crazy!"

His words cut me to the bone. "If you were a better husband and loved me more, I wouldn't be so emotional!" I lashed out in retaliation.

We both stormed from the table, leaving the food to grow as cold as the feelings between us.

I don't love him anymore, I thought later as I lay stiffly beside him in bed. I don't even like him. What's happened to us?

But I knew.

A terrible choice

Growing up in a broken home, I'd been rejected by my biological father, who constantly told me he'd never wanted children. I just longed to be loved and accepted.

So when I met Art at a Bible study, I was drawn to his good looks, quiet confidence, and commitment to God. I felt as if he could provide what my father hadn't. As we began to date, I was starved for the love I felt Art offered, and dove completely into the relationship. But still, we had the best intentions for our relationship, vowing we wouldn't kiss, or even hold hands.

Then one night, after we'd been dating about four months, we slept together. It happened only once, but that was enough. I became pregnant.

When I found out, I was terrified. What would my family and church friends think? What would Art think? I was so afraid everyone would reject me, as I'd been rejected in the past.

I knew I couldn't keep from telling Art—eventually he'd figure it out. So one night soon after my discovery, I broke the news to him.

"I'm pregnant," I blurted, in tears.

Though shaken, Art took me in his arms and comforted me. "I love you; we'll get through this together." When I'd calmed, he asked, "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," I confessed.

"Whatever you decide is fine with me," Art replied. "If you want to keep the baby, that's okay. We'll get married."

"I want to explore all the options," I said cautiously, "including abortion."

Art agreed. "We'll go together."

Several days later we visited an abortion clinic. I sat in the waiting area, terrified someone would recognize me. But I just wanted to make the pregnancy go away. After I was given a pregnancy test, Art and I were taken to a private room for a counseling session. There a woman told me what I wanted desperately to hear.

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Originally published in: Marriage Partnership, 2005, Spring, Page 58

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