A long time ago, I was given a pin that had little feet. The feet were the size of a ten week old baby in utero. They were so tiny, yet so perfectly formed. Those little feet represented something that touched my heart in a deep way.
When I was 18, my boyfriend of three years and I found out we were going to be parents. What should have been a joyful experience was clouded by so many outside influences. My age, the fact that we weren’t married yet, my boyfriend’s father’s cancer diagnosis the previous day, the disapproval of so many judgmental people, the fact that I was so sick for half the pregnancy, etcetera and so on. Interestingly enough, the baby I carried was not on the list.
At that point the only thing I knew was that some stick I peed on had a plus sign. For a short time, I was confused. My mind wandered. I questioned what life would look like if I would terminate. I wondered what life would be like if I had made different choices. I fell into a deep depression.
One day, when the baby’s feet were still tiny yet perfectly formed, I started bleeding. My heart dropped. I was so scared. My Mom took me to the hospital and I was able to see my child’s beating heart on an ultrasound screen. That moment was one of the sweetest moments I’ve experienced to date. It was then that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God planned this baby even though my boyfriend and I did not. I cried thankful tears right there on the hospital table for God’s unconventional blessings.
From that day on, I embraced my baby. I was still full of fear, but I knew I wasn’t alone. I knew my baby was a gift.
Almost 29 years later, I am still reminded each day-in one form or another-the blessing that my firstborn child is…not because of anything I did or he’s done, but because God has called him by name. ❤️
*If you are pregnant and scared, here are some resources:
*If you’ve had an abortion, healing is available:
Life as I Know It 