abortion survivors – Drink of Jesus

My story is unique in that it has two beginnings. I was born on June 6, 1980, in Ashland, Oregon. A young lady, probably a student at a nearby university, learned that she was pregnant. Medical records tell me that she discovered her pregnancy in May of that year, not even a month before I was born. She may have been alone, scared, and unsure of what to do. Meanwhile, in a small coastal town a few hours away, a young couple had hopes and dreams of starting a family of their own. After years of unsuccessful attempts, they turned to adoption agencies to increase their chances of starting a family.

The young couple was turned down twice. Heartbroken and exhausted, they gave up hope of having a child of their own. A neighbor across the street, knowing their heartache, ran over one day in the driveway to give them the name of an adoption agent in town “who had babies.” Grief-stricken, the young wife stated, “I can’t do this anymore.” A few weeks later, she had a change of heart and decided to contact the adoption agent. Soon, the agent heard of a new baby up for adoption, one who was born early. The agent raised her hand and told her team, “This one is mine.” Not long after this, the young couple was connected with a little baby girl who had entered the world early and was placed in a large hospital in Medford, Oregon.

This is the part of the story that is hard to read, but I believe it was all part of God’s plan. The young woman in the first paragraph had come to the decision, one way or another, that her only way to deal with an unwanted pregnancy was to end it. As a result of an attempted abortion procedure, I was born… alive. It is unknown whether the young woman thought she was early in her pregnancy or if the doctor at the clinic believed so, but either way, I survived. I was born anywhere from 28 to 30 weeks gestation. I was a viable birth. I am a person, an individual with my own thoughts and feelings. I don’t know what that young woman was told by those around her or what she was told when she entered that clinic, but I do know this—I am so much more than “just a clump of cells.”

On July 9, 1980, I was given to Nancy and Richard, the young couple who had wished and hoped for a child of their own. My parents were nervous, frightened, but overjoyed to bring their precious new baby home. They adopted me soon after this date and became my number one advocates and supporters, and they continue to be some of my biggest fans today. An added blessing to my beginnings is that two years after adopting me, my parents found out that they were pregnant and were going to have another baby—my sister, Katie.

Source: Amy’s Story – Abortion Survivors Network

But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy.
James 3:17

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