I wish you were Born x

I celebrate your birthdays.
This is especially weird because I didn't allow you to be born.
I followed my head instead of following my heart and now you cant see trees or bees or teddy bears or snow flakes.
I took the pills and swallowed your death. And now I can't hug you or kiss you goodnight.
I celebrate your birthdays.
I try to not drink the pain away. I try to not numb my loss. I cry and I grieve and I pray and I bleed, because you died before you were born. You died because I was scared of what the rest of my life would look like. I was scared that your father would continue to break me and tear me and control me and haunt me due to your existence.
I celebrate your birthdays.
Your father hurt me, Zion. He did the worst things to me, Zion. The day you were conceived, I thought I was going to die. He left me for dead, Zion. He hated me, Zion. I couldn't breathe, Zion. I thought I was dead, Zion. It was the worst day of my life, Zion. I couldn't walk, Zion. I laid in bed for days, Zion. I cried myself to sleep for weeks, Zion. I stopped eating, Zion. But then I found out I was pregnant with my Zion. And everything changed.
I celebrate your birthdays.
Hearing the news was the best thing I had ever heard. I loved you from day 1. I couldn't wait to meet you. I wanted to give you everything I never had and more. I wanted to protect you with my life, till I remembered your father. I remembered how you came into this world and I panicked. I didn't want to share you with him. I didn't want you to meet the one who tried to choke me to death. I didn't want you to be like him. I couldn't stand the thought of you being like him. I couldn't stand the thought of sharing custody with the one who left me for dead.
I celebrate your birthdays.
So I walked away from being a mum to avoid being a victim any more. You see, Zion, I had been a victim from the age of 6. And I had no fight left in me. Your father took all the fight I had left, each time he flung me around the flat. I had no scream left in me. I had no roar to defend myself. I had no claws to fight with, so I took the pills instead. I said goodbye to you, Zion. And then I broke.
I celebrate your birthdays.
I thought I hit rock bottom, with your father. But I hit rock bottom, when I walked away from you. Because you were my roar. You, Zion, will always be the love of my life. You would have turned 7, on July 3rd 2019. You would have been in school and you would have been so smart. You would have been so funny and so tall. You would have been the light of my life, but instead you are the light in my heart- hand in hand with the Man Full of Light.
And its crazy because sharing what I did has given women the strength to not take the pills. GOD has orchestrated it, so that this may stop abortions. And that is great. And I am grateful that they have their babies. But I still cant't have you. I still can't hold you and my heart still bleeds. I struggle for air because you are not here. I cry myself to sleep after all these years because I miss your existence more than anything in this world. But I can’t stay in that state... so as the sun rises I shake off the ashes and I walk into the new day. I keep going because that’s what I must do.
Instead of sitting in the ash, I celebrate your birthdays. Although you were conceived through trauma and you did not make it in to this life, you are the love of my life and the love of my heart. And your pain has brought so much joy to other women who have their bundles of joy.
And I know you cant't read this, but I miss you every single day and I hope you can forgive me. I cant wait to meet you and hug you and kiss you. I hope you still regard me as your mother because you will always be my son, until the day I die.
And until that day, I will continue to celebrate your birthdays.

Why I tried to Die.

interlude. 

The reason for this blog is not to cause harm or to bring shame to anyone. This is not to bring shame or embarrassment. But this is to release. Release those who have gone through similar tragedies and made similar mistakes as me, to release those who watched my mind deteriorate piece by piece with no idea how to help me. This is to also release those who have hurt me. It has taken me a long time to even admit that I have indeed been hurt. This is for you guys too. This is also for people who have loved ones who are going through mental health issues. It is not easy to see someone you love shatter in front of you. Last but not least, this release is for my broken heart and the part of my subconscious that will not allow me to show any sign of hurt or pain. 

The thought that I must never show irritation or annoyance, that I must instead behave like a Stepford wife in order to be seen as desirable. This is to silence the thoughts that tell me "I must not display the endurance of pain but I must be in pain, in silence." This has been allowing those who have bruised me, to continue to go on with their lives peacefully, with no remorse, whilst I battle with depression, hiding under my bed, tormented and scarred by memories. Not anymore. I deserve this release because I worked for it, I fought for it and regardless of who does or does not believe it- this release is in fact mine.  

My previous relationship was very public. You may have seen us on social media, at weddings, parties or restaurants. You are free to question why I stayed in the relationship for so long, you may question why I never called the police during the relationship or why I did not just leave. You may even question if this is even true. You are completely within your right to have these questions and/or comments- but I beseech you, please be very careful not to speak to negatively on this situation. I personally never thought I would go through something like this- yet here I am. 

Instead, learn from this. Protect your sons and your daughters, brother and sisters, friends and peers. If you notice the signs, speak to them. You may be saving their lives.

On the 25th March, 2017, I tried to commit suicide. 

Why did I do this? I was quite depressed. I questioned my use on this earth. I felt alone. No one seemed to understand what I was going through. I thought hell would have been better than my state of life. I was running out of my mind and nothing/no cone could catch me. I had lost all understanding of my identity and I decided it was time for me to go. 

stats.

• There is one death by suicide every 2 hours

• Suicide is the leading cause of death for people aged 20- 34, with men being three times as likely to commit suicide compared to women

• It is the leading cause for men under 50

All these statistics are for the UK sourced from mentalhealth.org.uk

Now lets get straight into my story.

backstory.

December 2016,

I was about to enter the new year with the only man who had ever made it clear he wanted to marry me. I had met someone who was willing to have me as his wife, amongst all of my mess, someone genuinely wanted me. 

So I put up with the abuse. I handled the controlling behaviour, the intimidation. The bruises. I stayed after being chucked around the living room. I held his hand after being screamed at and humiliated in the street. I wiped my tears and kissed him goodnight after being penetrated without consent. During one of the nights, I begged him to let my body rest but he refused. He found it exhilarating that I had a history of sexual abuse and frequently dealt with flashbacks. I did not have a choice. So I used my hands to try to push him off me, whilst he used his hands to cover my mouth and muffle my cry. I used my feet to try to shuffle away. He used his legs to hold me in place. It would happen on the floor. I remember the red rug. I hated that rug. It would burn me on my legs from trying to get away. But underneath the red rug was the cold grey floor. When I managed to wiggle my way to the corner of the room, I would reach the cold marble. From there- I had no where to wiggle to. I was boxed in because of the sofa. Oh how I missed that red rug! When he had finished he would normally use the loo. This gave me a couple a minute to gather my thoughts and check the state I was in. 

"Okay Katt, you have about 60 seconds to get this done...Firstly, can you move your legs? Okay great. Can you close them? Are you bleeding? Is there anywhere that has a larger amount of pain compared to the rest of your body? How do your ribs feel? Hurry up and check... Okay now stop moving and roll on your side so he can think you are sleeping and hopefully you won't have to go through this agai-"

Nope. Too late. He had seen me move and was ready to take what he thought was his. I have no energy to fight anymore so its less work for him. By this time in the night, I would be silent. Tears would just fall off my face on to the cold marble. I really missed that rug.  

I guess you're wondering why I put up with all of this? Because I was about to be a wife. Finally! All of my Nigerian aunties will have to stop putting pressure on me to marry. They might even be proud of me, because I am about to be claimed by a man.  So I didn't just stay, I stayed and smiled because anything would be better than loneliness and deep down he must have loved me. That was what I told myself. The truth was I was not mentally okay. Lets call a spade a spade. I was not well.

January 2017,

As I crossed over into the new year, I started attending a new church. I did not really understand why- but I could feel God leading me there. Within the space of one month, I had decided I wanted to live a life of purity (no sex), so I told my partner. He wasn't exactly pleased but we were planning to wed in the summer so the wait wasn't going to really be that long. I started to enjoy this lifestyle of holiness, it wasn't easy- but I felt like I didn't have to live a lie anymore. I felt like I could love God with my whole heart, for the first time in my life, because my legs were closed! It felt so good, but the Mr was not feeling the same. His temperament became increasingly worse, his anger was growing out of control and my anxiety went through the roof. 

Side note: Now that I look back, I feel like his growing anger was less about him being sexually frustrated and more about me taking back control over my body.

 
I started to see him less and less, until I decided to go on consecration (a time devoted to hearing what is is God wanted to say) and get actual clarity. 

February 2017,

Valentines day. I am a hopeless romantic. I love flowers and teddy bears, I love giving gifts and writing essays in cards about how much I appreciate the man I am with. But this Valentines day was hell on earth. It was a day of public humiliation, being dragged in the street, trying not to cry and then dinner. I remember the weather. It rained so badly. He wouldn't let us go home because I had made him mad. I can't remember what I had done that day, but whatever it was- made him flip. He made us walk for hours in the rain. Sometimes he would walk off and tell me not to follow him, but I was in the middle of Hackney and I knew no one. So I would run after him and beg him not to leave me. I was powerless. And scared and weak and alone.

At dinner, I remember sitting at the table, at breaking point. I could feel my mind slipping away to a dark place. I remember drifting. As he spoke and told me why I was the worst girlfriend in the world, I looked above his head. I saw the bottles of wine. There were like a moonlight colour. They were stacked on shelves. I stared at them whilst he told me how useless I was since I no longer pleased him. Since I decided I did not want to have sex, my use had gone. I was barely there. My mind had gone. "At least I wasn't alone tho. He wants to marry me. I just need to hold on."
But I couldn't hold on. After much prayer- I decided to leave him. I decided to call all engagement/wedding plans off. I wanted out. I had decided. It was time for me to go. So I told him. Enough was enough. I needed to get out. It wasn't working. It's not you- it's me. I love you but this isn't for me anymore. Please don't hate me. I just can't stay.

That was when he began to lose his mind. 

March 2017,

He began to call me constantly, questioning how long we were going to be apart for, what I had been up to, where I had been going, who I had been seeing, what I had been eating.

Side note: This was another example of him wanting to get his control back. It went from him letting me know where I could and could not go- to not knowing where I was and who I was with. It was truly torture for him. 

As time went on, I began to make it more clear that we were not going to get back together. I assumed he would kick up a bit of a fuss, perhaps shout and scream, but I thought he would want his space eventually. But he didn't. He continued to call non stop, sometimes between 10- 20 times a day. I started to get weary. I could feel my mind slipping again.
He began to harass not only me, but my mum too. He would turn up at my house. I was barely eating and sleeping. My mind was circling the drain. I started to question if I was ever going to be free.

March 25th

I found myself on the edge. I had been thinking about the abuse I had gone through since childhood. The molestation, grooming, rapes, domestic violence. I was at my lowest. One evening he called. I answered. He could tell I wasn't feeling good so he began to ask questions. Eventually- I told him. I told him that I felt like life had been so tough on me and it wasn't fair. I was a victim and after all these years- those people were happy living their lives. I told him how upsetting it was to feel like I am nothing more than trash that needs to be disregarded. I became angry and confused. I cried. He listened. And then he spoke.

His response was very simple. It cut me like a knife. "Look at how many years it has been. You still aren't over it. You call yourself a Christian but you haven't forgiven them. You aren't a Christian and you are never going to get over your past. This is what you are. This is what you will always be." It cut like a knife. The words circled my brain until the last bits of my mind had slipped down the drain. 

So I agreed with him. I put the phone on my bed. I walked to my medicine cupboard, silently. I took 4 boxes out. They were different colours. I closed the draw back. I went back over to my bed. I sat down. I plucked pill after pill out of the packets, I did not say a word. Tears ran down my face. Silent tears. I was finished. I had nothing left to fight with. Throughout my whole life I have had to fight child molesters, paedophiles, groomers, rapists, physical abusers, racists, sexists, family members, university boys, peers, strangers, church members and boyfriends. Everyone of them tried to take something from me. I was always losing. I have had to combat hating my image, my body and what I had grown into. I had to deal with other people and their insecurities. I have had to fight homelessness, mental health issues, my destroyed childhood, addictions to all things sex and alcohol. I had to combat not being wanted as a child, as a teenager and an adult. I had to fight for a stable mind after the termination of my son. My baby boy. And I had nothing left to fight with. Like I said, I was finished. I was so tired. All I could do was swallow.

So I swallowed pill after pill. I apologised to God and expressed in my heart that I could take no more. I continued to swallow. "I am never going to be okay. It has been years and I am still so broken." It wasn't long till I had passed out. Like I said, I was finished and it was time for me to go. Surely death was better than this. 

March 26th

I woke up in the morning. The sun hit my eyelids. I struggled to open them. I could barely move but I was alive. Quick check..

"Okay can you move your legs? Can you sit up? Can you speak? Are you alive? I think you're alive."

And I was alive. As I came around to my senses I sat up in bed. I cried. I laughed. I cried some more. I grabbed my arms. They were cold. I grabbed my hair. I ran my fingers through my curls. I felt my skin, I pinched and pulled my skin and I cried. I should have been dead. It made no sense. My stomach felt terrible. It felt like I had swallowed stone. The headache started to come but I continued to laugh and cry. I rolled around in my bed. I looked delirious. I laughed from the pit of my stone-heavy belly with tears rolling down my face. My tears rolled off my face on to my flowery bed sheets. It was so surreal. The sun was shinning through my window, bright like a summers morning when I was back in primary school during the 6 weeks holidays. The day seemed so bright. One of those bright days that stop you from laying in bed because you feel like you're wasting it. I cried so hard. I was so grateful for life. I felt like God had been fighting for me. I felt like the Creator of the universe took care of me when I gave up. For the first time in my life, I felt like I wasn't on my own. I had someone in my corner. Someone had my back. Someone covered me when I was exposed. Someone took care of me. Me! Someone protected me. But it wasn't just anyone- it was the King of all Kings. I had my Heavenly Father and all of heaven by my side. So guess what that means...it means that I win :)

I can't explain it very well- but March 26th felt like the first day of the rest of my life. I got ready and I went to my church. And I made sure I was going to live it for King Jesus. I completely removed my ex out of my life. He no longer has any access to me. I got mental help and I started to speak to my loved ones about the state of my mind. It hasn't even been a year yet but I trusted God for full restoration and He really did it for me. I am so grateful for my life because on March 25th 2017, I had asked for death. 

There is something missing from this story. Something that may completely confuse you. I wasn't going to mention this- but I think I should. 

A week before I tried to commit suicide- I was in my church and my Apostle told me what I was called to do on this earth. I had already known most of it- but it was confirmed. Satan got scared. March 25th was the last chance he had to get rid of me. I thank GOD everyday that it did not work.

victory.

So I would like to declare how awesome my God is. He has saved my life on numerous occasions and I can’t express how much He means to me. King Jesus loved me so much that He died for me. And I am so thankful. I genuinely deserved death but He gave me everlasting life. I no longer fight with my past. It didn't win and it never will. By the grace of JESUS- it never will.

That relationship nearly killed me. The abuse nearly killed me. The cycles of sexual trauma I experienced from the age of 8 to 24 nearly killed me. I genuinely never thought I would be okay. But I am. I sometimes get flashbacks of the abuse I endured, I can sometimes see the red rug on the marble floor, but I am okay. I can sometimes get flashbacks if I am in Hackney or I may have a moment of fear if I think I see him in the street, but I am okay. I am far away from him and I am safe in the arms of my Creator. The love of my life and the lifter of my head.

If you are battling with suicidal thoughts, speak to someone. Get the help and support you need. If your relationship is abusive, whether that be emotionally, sexually, physically.. whatever the case, get support and get out. You are worth so much more than that. You were worth dying for. So get out of that mess and live! If you are dealing with flashbacks from a painful past- speak about it. We all deserve complete healing, that includes you.

This is my final blog (for now) so thank you so much for being on this journey with me.

Please remember that you are loved beyond belief and you were worth dying for. Romans 5:8 But God demonstrates His own love towards us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. 

Thank you for reading and GOD bless!

18 and Raped.

THANKS FOR TUNING IN 

For those of you who have read either of my previous blogs (ooo that sounds very professional) thank you for taking more time out to hear more of my story. Please do share this with any/everyone who you think may need it. 

THE INTRO

Before I get into it- I want to start with saying this is painful to type but it is necessary to read and as you continue to read- I pray it brings healing to you if you have also been through any degree of sexual abuse, if you have witnessed sexual abuse and felt powerless to help/didn't know how to help and I pray it brings healing to you if you have ever been a perpetrator. This is for all of you. As you read, I pray that my Father in heaven begins to heal your wounds. The wounds you have covered, buried and even forgotten about. He can really do it. I know this because He did it for me. 

THE STATS

"1 in 5 women have experienced sexual violence." 

I like to kick start my blogs with some statistics. This is going to be a bit of a shocker for some of you. 

• Approximately 85,000 women and 12,000 men are raped every year.
• That is roughly 11 victims every hour.
• 1 in 5 women have experienced some sort of sexual violence since the age of 16.
• There is a 55% increase (where age is known) of victims who are under the age of 15, compared to last year
• Only 15% of those who experienced sexual abuse, decided to report it to the police. 

These stats are shocking, aren't they? What is more shocking is that these stats are only for England and Wales. They were sourced from the Ministry of Justice and the official website for Rape Crisis.

THE BACKSTORY

Leading up to my 18th birthday, I was living my life as a new believer. Going to Bible study sessions in my (now previous) church, which was 90% full of OAPs. I was helping out in Sunday school and part of a dance ministry. I wasn't a perfect Christian but I loved my Father in heaven. He was my everything. And I had made a commitment to live a life of holiness. I wasn't doing too bad, to be honest. 

One warm Sunday morning, July 2010, a man walked into church with his family. I couldn't tell if the woman was his mum or his wife, but what I did know was he that he was extremely handsome. You could even say beautiful. During the church service, we made eye contact a couple of times. I couldn't wait to speak to him. I had all these questions to ask. "Who was he? We live in a small town- why have I never seen him before? Is that his Mum or his wife?" 
As it concluded we greeted each other in the most church- like way and I embraced his mum and his sister. She urged us to exchange numbers so I could keep in contact with him. I definitely didn't mind- I told you he was beautiful.

The texts started quite normal. 'Scriptures here, encouraging words there. Normal stuff. Weeks passed and he began to ask me how serious I was with my walk. I had been in church my whole life so I knew exactly what he meant (I speak fluent Christianese), I explained to him that I am living a life of holiness through all aspects. He asked me if I ever had urges- I told him the truth, sometimes- but I never acted on them. He was confused as to how this was possible but he soon changed the topic. RED FLAG NUMBER 1!

August came. The month of my 18th birthday. He had begged to spend it with me, so I said yes ( I had no friends at the time so it was either spend it with him or spend it at home.) By this time, we were spending alot more time together. We would frequently go for walks with his baby sister or do some food shopping for his mum, all the while talking about everything and nothing. It was lovely- but here's the issue- nobody knew. No one in the church knew I was hanging out with this guy all the time. We were accountable to no one and when I would raise this as an issue- he did not want us to change what we were doing. RED FLAG NUMBER 2!

When we were at church, we would sneak glances at each other. I am quite wide hipped so you can probably imagine that I naturally get a lot of attention. I normally hated it- but I liked it from him. I loved walking in and seeing his eyes light up. It made me feel so beautiful- but the truth is he was dealing with lust on a severe level, as was I. 


Nonetheless, my birthday came and we went to the cinema. I have no idea what we watched but during the film, we kissed. It had been a long while since I had been kissed so I didn't quite prepare for it (breath wise) but he didn't stop so I guess it wasn't so bad.

As he took me home, we snuck around back roads where he would try to grab my face again. All I kept thinking about were those OAPs from my church seeing me. It would have been disastrous- but it probably would have saved me from what was to come. 

Once at my house, he asked to come in. I laughed and sent him home. He then asked to see me again at the weekend. I agreed and sent him home. 

THE RAPE

"I was okay..."

Saturday night came. He met me in the town at a bar. As I walked in- he looked nervous and excited to see me. I had butterflies as I realized that this was my first real date! 

I had a glass of wine, he had some brandy and then we began to walk. My head was spinning but I was okay. I was okay enough to realize when he had taken a wrong turning, I tried to correct him but he held my hand tighter and ignored me. I was okay enough to realize we weren't on the path to my house, my head began to clear up and my senses began to sharpen. I was okay enough to realize we were in a park, my stomach was now in knots and I now knew something was about to happen. I was okay enough to hear his zip go down- my chest began to beat like a drum. I was okay enough to beg and plead for him to not rape me- but he didn't listen. He continued to pin me into the position he wanted. I was okay enough to try to call for help- I used every ounce of my strength until I had none left. I was okay enough to know that no one was coming to help me. There was no superman like I had read in comics. There was no DareDevil. There was no help at hand and this was not a dream. I was okay enough to pull my things together and run home when he had gotten off me. I didn't allow myself to think- I just wanted to be safe. I was okay enough to climb into my bed, sore all over, and wait for the sun to rise- knees in my chest because that was the only position where my body was in the least amount of pain. And I was okay enough to drag myself out of bed and go to Church the next day. I put on a Sunday dress and went to church. I didn't know what else to do. But I was okay. 

THE AFTERMATH

At church that day- all I did was cry. I cried for hours. I cried for days on end. Every now and then, I would cry for weeks, months, years. And I became scared of men in my church. Why? Because the morning after I was raped, he sent me a text apologizing. He said I was too sexy and he couldn't quite handle it. My body was too much and my dresses drove him crazy. So for years, I thought it was my fault. I thought it was my wide hips that got me violated. I thought it was my small waist and long legs. So I cried. I thought it was thick physique that got me into that situation- so I hated my body. I hated my body and I hated being looked at. I became scared of Christian men, in case they wanted to hurt me too. 

First I was scared- then I got angry. I was angry at him, I was angry at myself and I was angry at God. He saw that happen to me. Why didn't He stop it?Why didn't He protect me? I am supposed to be His daughter. Why didn't He rescue me? I had all these questions that lead me to drink. I developed a horrible habit that controlled my life for a number of years (but that's for another blog).

This rape opened a door. I battled with addictions to alcohol and fornication to help numb the memories what had happened to me- rather than dealing with it at the source. These things opened up more doors of abuse (which is ALSO for another blog) and all of a sudden- years had gone by and I had no idea as to where life had taken me. Then came hope. 

THE HEALING

"...the end is good!"

Recently at my (new) church, I enrolled in a course called Youthful Lust. We looked into why people are bound by lust and we came to the conclusion that it is sometimes because of pain. For example, I would use sex and alcohol to drown out my sorrows of my abuse. But it never helped. It gave me a hangover and drama. The abuse I endured opened up different doors and only GOD could really deal with what the results were. 

1 Peter 5:7 says, cast all your anxiety on to Him, because He cares for you. That means, God already knew life would be painful. He knew life would be unkind and we are not built to deal with this pain, but He can.

I now know that none of it was my fault. I know that the man was battling with something big that caused him to hurt me like that. He was struggling and I got caught in the crossfire. I wore dresses to hear how beautiful I looked without realizing that this man is struggling. It is very sad situation- but there is a hope. 

7 years later, I love and respect the men in my church and I even have some good friends there. GOD IS GOOD! I trust the men in my church and I am no longer afraid of them. 

I no longer see myself as a goal post for sexual abuse. I no longer hate my body. I am learning to love it- but I have come a long way. Lastly, I no longer run from the pain of my past. These fears kept me bottled up for years. As crazy as it sounds- these fears had me too scared to use the toilet during a church service because I didn't want to be seen. These fears made me too scared to make eye contact with men incase they got the wrong idea. The fears had me scared to even hug men in my church. Those fears had to go because we are a family!

And in case you are wondering-I now know God never plans for anyone to go through any sort of abuse, it's not in His will, Jeremiah 29:11 says, For I know the plans I have for you- for good and not for evil- to bring you to an expected end. That means the plans are good and the end is good. Evil may happen in life- but His plans for you are good and your end is good. My brother/my sister- the end is good! Always remember this. There is hope. 

7 YEARS LATER

I am 25 now. More things have happened to me in life, but my GOD is still on the throne. I am now a trained counselor for my church and I regularly counsel women who have gone through different things in life. All glory goes to my Father in heaven because a lot of my life experiences allow me to counsel with the Word- from a place of experience. My 25 years on this earth have been so hard- but His good plans are giving me beauty for ashes. His plans for my life are so so good- regardless of my trauma and I am walking with Him hand in hand. 

If you need to talk to someone about any trauma you have experienced/ seen- do it. Do it today.  Do not put it off. Do it. I would not be healed if I did not open my mouth and get help. You deserve healing too. You deserve to move on too- PROPERLY. So go get it. It is worth it. You may think it is not possible to be completely healed- but you can. It is not easy- but it is possible. Remember- there is a hope. 

Thank you so so so much for reading. 

GOD bless you.

The Abortion.

The Intro

This blog is particularly difficult to write for many reasons. Reason number one being, I am not a victim. I made a choice and it was my choice. I decided to terminate the life of my son and for that, I have to be accountable. So here I am. Being accountable for my abortion.

The Stats

Lets start with some statics, shall we? In 2015, the Independent reported that 1 in 3 women have an abortion by the time they are 45 years old. And no- that isn't a statistic for the whole world- that's just for the U.K. So if you haven't directly had an abortion, someone in your family or in your friendship circle probably has. Tough to imagine? I bet it is.

The Story

So let me tell you about my abortion. In my final year of studying, in 2012, at 21 years old- I got pregnant. This was particularly difficult because I was in a church, I am a Pastors' daughter (yup I know what you're thinking- pastors' kids are the worst- blah blah blah), and I was also teaching Sunday school. None of that was even the heaviest part. The heaviest part is that I specifically heard the voice of GOD telling me I was going to have a baby and NOT to have an abortion. I don't know if you are a believer- but I heard a bellowing in my ear. It terrified the life out of me and I dropped to the floor as if I had heard gun shots in Tottenham. Regardless of all this- I had the termination because I allowed my situation to cloud my judgment and I allowed my logic to takeover my emotions.

The Procedure

So I did it. At four months into my pregnancy, I made the appointment. I went to the clinic. I took the pill. I went back and I had the rest of the procedure performed.I had done it. I had killed my son. Was it that simple? Not at all. There were some complications during the abortion- but we will get to that later.

 

The Reasons

"My boyfriend is not interested in having a child. He could not even be faithful in our relationship. I can't keep it. My Dad is a Pastor- he will reject me. The church will take away my posts. The church will say I let them down. I teach young people- how can I have a baby out of wedlock? My body will drastically change- no other man will want me. I'm about to graduate- I can't have a baby. I don't even have any money..."

Those were my reasons for having an abortion. Right now I am going to skip to this present day so you can see how life has changed.

1. That "boyfriend" of mine- gone with the wind but we remained friends (ish)
2. My Dad eventually forgave me. I am his daughter and he will always love me.
3. The church I attended- I no longer go there. I have a new church family that accepts me and loves me and helps me grow. I have leaders who I am transparent with and I am growing in the faith
4. The young people I work alongside know my story and they know they can come to me with anything, any problem and any issue.
5. My body looks okay but I am more than just a body now. That is no longer the only thing I have to offer.
6. I didn't go to my graduation anyway due to severe depression.
7. I now make more money than I could even have imagined (thank GOD)

The REAL Reason

Those were my "reasons" but the truth is- I didn't want people to see that I had sinned. I was a fake who kept up a façade because I did not like who I really was. I was a depressed person who used sex as an escape. I got pregnant and now everyone could see I wasn't perfect. That is the real reason for my abortion.

The Aftermath

The day after my abortion, I was broken. I couldn't eat. I could barely get out of bed. I couldn't concentrate. I could barely finish my final year. I completed my dissertation drunk out of my face because I just didn't care. My belly went down but the tears didn't stop. I got a new job- but I couldn't concentrate. On top of all of that, the health complications were terrible. Part of the placenta was stuck inside my womb for a while. I felt a lot of pain but I couldn't explain it. For those of you who don't know much about this stuff- the placenta was rotting inside of my womb. Within 6 months that would have killed me. About a month or two after the abortion- the placenta fell out whilst I was walking to Tesco. That could have killed me but my GOD is greater.

The Healing

When I could no longer deal with guilt and the shame and the depression- I reached out to a lady in my church. I told her about the abortion and she told me she volunteered at an abortion support group in my town and they were putting a counseling group together. I agreed to go. And I got help. I got the help I needed to begin the healing process. Part of that was forgiving everyone in the situation and forgiving myself. That was the hardest bit. Forgiving myself for something that I did. Taking the responsibility and then allowing myself to feel the forgiveness. Does it mean I forget? Never. But it means I don't have to live in shame or in condemnation. I can breathe. For the first time in my life- I am breathing.

5 Years Later

5 years on, I meet women who have had abortions and men who have their babies aborted, with or without their consent. And all of them have this one thing in common; they don't know how to forgive themselves. This is particularly difficult if you haven't processed the abortion. My brother, my sister, get help. Get some support. Don't just sit there. Speak to someone. Don't want to speak to anyone you know? Speak to me. Just don't sit on it. Don't sit on it and hide. Open your mouth and get your healing.

Who Is Zion

Zion is my son. He would have turned 4 years old on July 3rd 2017. I have seen him in my dreams and he is a beauty. I buy him birthday cards and teddy bears. On my low days- I write him letters. I know he doesn't read them- but it helps me heal. Zion is with my GOD in heaven. He isn't on this earth but he existed and I miss him every day.


I am most grateful to GOD for everything He has done in my life. He is my air. He keeps me alive and it is through faith that I am justified and I have peace with GOD through Jesus. Galatians 5:1
GOD saved my life. I am a living testimony. Keep your eyes peeled- because there is so much more to come.

Thank you so so so much for reading.