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The Number 11

Updated: Nov 25, 2018

I KNOW. I KNOW. I should be uber excited to start a blog, after all I love to journal and am in the process of writing a book. But the truth is I am not! I actually like to read other peoples blogs, but this seems tedious to me, lacking in personality apart from mastery of the English language. Its highly probable because I do not have mastery of this language that you wont "GET" my tone, emotion, humor or even sarcasm. Yet, I've been told to do it so I shall.

Should I start with "I was born?" Umm no. That's fairly obvious, but what isn't obvious is I didn't live for most of my life, I survived, existed, inched by. It was a pathetic existence really. It was a life until the age of 32, chocked full of one tragedy after another, some of my own making but lots at the hand of others. Sometimes looking back I marvel that I am even alive to tell this story. But in God's providence, he decided ( I guess) that I should be. After all, what good is a story without a happy ending? A Sad one that's what.

I find this difficult to say, but I think it's the best way to start. I am the mother of 11 children. 3 are living. 8, I murdered through abortion procedures over a 15 year period. Have you "GASPED" yet? If not, its only for one of three reasons. First, you are re-reading to see if you read it right, second, you've had close to or as many or more than I, or third you're a pro-lifer convinced that I merely got a D&C 8 times for health reasons. Ok, OK, So I am being a little sarcastic on the last point. But, I'm hoping to work all of that out before I die. After all, the abortion clinic didn't get me pregnant or ask me to come to their clinic, I did all of that myself. They just made it "seem" easy.

After the first time I knew better. However there was something within me so broken, so void of any sense of self-worth that I couldn't see any good thing coming from me. Although I was a mother during all of my abortions, I never felt I measured up. I always felt my children would be better off without me. So I guess abortions were a way of self-harm. I know now they were the greatest form of self-rejection second only to suicide.

As a child the emotional pain was so bad, I use to beat my head against my bedroom wall or hit my legs as hard as I could. Sometimes with a hard heavy object. I never thought of cutting. If I were a young child today, suffering the same pain, I might.

So there you have it. I said it. Now to tell the rest of the story... in pieces as time and emotions allow. I think the hardest part of a blog, is once I hit publish. It's no longer private. The journey of healing and restoration I've been on for the last (almost) ten years is the only reason I can write these words today. I AM FORGIVEN. I AM WASHED CLEAN BY THE BLOOD OF THE LAMB. I AM RIGHTEOUS IN THE SIGHT OF GOD. I AM AN HEIR. I AM LOVED. I am no longer a murderer of my own children. I AM BEING HEALED. But the pain my friends, still creeps in from time to time. My personal goal in ministry to help prevent this for other women and to help those who have had abortions to heal.

It's gonna be a bumpy ride, but well worth it. Won't you join me?




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