As August began, most of my high school and neighborhood friends prepared to leave for college. I was still living with a lot of indecision about my future. I continued to work at the Y, ignoring and keeping my distance from Mark. When we did happen to run into each other, the encounter was difficult. I resumed my relationships at church and was really seeking God as to what His plans were for my life. As the month went on, I began waking up feeling nauseated. I didn’t have a fever, but certainly didn’t feel good. By the time I had to go to work in the afternoon, I would feel better. I figured I just had some sort of flu bug, but this scenario repeated for over a week. Since puberty, my menstrual cycles were always on time. I could plan my life around them. They were that predictable. As I began looking at my calendar, I anticipated the start of my monthly cycle. One day passed, then two, and then a week – nothing. I convinced myself that, probably because of all the emotional upheaval with Mark, I was just running late. But as the sickness in the morning intensified and my period never appeared, I began to worry that maybe . . . no! There’s no way! I thought back to the encounter at Rick’s house and remembered how brief the event lasted. It was all so mechanical, with little to no participation from me. I then found myself thinking that God knew I was sorry for what happened, and surely He would have kept something like this from happening to me. As the days passed by, I finally faced the uncomfortable decision to purchase a home pregnancy test. I needed to assure myself that I was not pregnant. While my mom was not home, I performed the test. Standing outside the bathroom, horrified by the unknown, the waiting minutes passed like hours. Reluctantly, I walked back into the bathroom for the results. As plain as day, it was positive! I was pregnant! I sat on the floor of the bathroom, stunned. My heart sank into my stomach. After picking myself off the floor of the bathroom, I went into my bedroom, buried my face into a pillow, and sobbed like never before. Confusion quickly spread like wildfire over my thoughts. How could this have happened? Why did I allow myself to be used like this? Why didn’t I stand up for myself? Why didn’t I guard my heart? Confusion quickly turned into anger. I was angry at myself, angry at Mark, and finally, I was angry with God. How could a loving God allow this to happen to me? I sat in my bedroom, demanding answers from God, but all I heard was silence. After gaining my composure, I disposed of the positive pregnancy test kit before my mom arrived home. I somehow mustered up the strength to keep my emotions and the news of my pregnancy to myself until the right time.
After realizing I was pregnant, I contacted a friend from high school. She was getting ready to attend the local community college. I needed someone to talk to, someone I could trust. She met up with me at the local middle school track. After some small talk, I tearfully told her the news. Looking back now, she was exactly the person I needed to talk to. She listened to me share the story and then launched into her own story. She confessed to me that during the summer between our junior and senior years, she became pregnant as well. She looked me square in the face and told me that she had chosen to have an abortion. From her eyes, I witnessed tears of sorrow and shame pour out. Together, we hugged one another, and she encouraged me not to make the same mistake that she had. I had never seriously thought about abortion, but there were certainly times after learning about my pregnancy when I wondered if it was the only answer. My friend and I parted ways, never to speak again. She eventually communicated to me that being my friend was much too difficult for her, as it reminded her too much of what she threw away. I felt absolutely no judgment toward her, but my pregnancy triggered condemnation within her. To this very day, I have never been able to speak with her.
Eventually, I had to tell Mark. One day, I told him that I had to speak with him after work. Trembling, I walked into his office, locked the door, and told him that I was pregnant. The look on his face was utter shock and denial. He asked me several times if I was sure. He then began talking about how this news would forever destroy any hope of a relationship with his ex-girlfriend and maybe his position and career at the Y. Not that I expected it, but he didn’t care one bit about me and what I was experiencing. He told me that we needed to be sure that I was really pregnant, so he arranged for me to go to a clinic and have a real medical test run. I agreed. A couple of days later, he drove me to a clinic, and I had a pregnancy test performed. We both waited in the empty waiting room for about ten minutes. The nurse came out to the waiting room and handed me a card. The card had the day the test was performed, the word “Positive” on it, and how many weeks pregnant I was. I had no emotion, but Rick was devastated. We walked out to the parking lot in silence. When we arrived at his car, he looked straight at me and told me that I had no alternative but to terminate the pregnancy. He told me that he would pay for everything, no questions asked. I just stood there and stared at him. He launched into a long rant about how this baby was going to ruin both of our lives, not to mention that I was just an 18-year-old girl who couldn’t financially care for a child. He then emphatically told me that he was not paying for a pregnancy, but he was happy to pay for the abortion. Saying nothing, I got into his car, and he dropped me off at the top of the YMCA parking lot to avoid unwanted attention. I got out of his car, and he pleaded with me to face reality and get the abortion. I shut the car door and walked home. As I slowly walked home, I began to cry out to God for help. My heart was broken. I just kept asking God to forgive me and help me. I felt totally alone. But here’s the thing: a change was beginning to happen within my heart. I began to understand the real nature of Jesus for myself. Oh, I had made a decision to accept Jesus into my heart and follow Him at the young age of 7, but the full extent of fully relying on Jesus had not really been tested in my life up until now. It’s one thing to follow God on your parents’ shirttails, but it is another thing to establish a relationship with God on your own. This is what was happening to me. I knew the road ahead would be difficult, but I began to sense God’s unconditional love surrounding me.
As the days and weeks passed, I knew I would have to tell my mother and father. My parents were still separated, and I felt like I was just adding more turmoil to an already chaotic family situation. Morning sickness continued to haunt me every morning, and the nausea sometimes culminated with vomiting. It was all challenging to hide, but I tried. I wasn’t showing yet, but I knew eventually I would. After some time, I went to Mark and told him that I was going to have to tell my mother about the pregnancy. I also told him that he was going to come with me. As expected, he was resistant, but I made it clear that this event was a joint effort and it was only right that we faced my parents together. He eventually agreed, but he was not happy about it. A few days later, Mark drove me home after work to be there to talk with my mother. We walked into my house, and my mom was sitting outside on our porch. We both said hello, and I then told her that we needed to talk with her. She then invited us to sit down. There was initially an awkward silence, and then I spoke. “Mom, I am pregnant.” With that, I could not hold back the tears any longer. I waited for a lecture, yelling and sobbing, but nothing of that sort happened. My announcement was met with an oddly quiet peace. As we all sat silently, my mother immediately looked Mark in the eye and asked him if he loved me. Without hesitation, he said “no”. The pain of that response hit me hard. Oh, I knew that he did not love me, but he had never vocalized it openly. My mom then looked at him calmly and peacefully and told him to leave. She told him this situation was about her now (pointing at me), and his input and advice were no longer relevant. Without delay, Rick got up and left. After he was gone, I sat on our porch and cried. My mother immediately came beside me and hugged me. She told me that she had been praying for me for some time because she could see that I seemed confused and lost. During the past few months, no matter what she said to me, I dug my heels in, thinking I was doing what was right, but I obviously wasn’t. She then told me that the reason she was able to remain peaceful amidst this news was because the Lord had already told her that I was pregnant. This supernatural revelation had prepared her heart ahead of time. After the Lord revealed this news to her, she went to our pastor and talked with him about it. He was gracious in instructing her how to handle this potential situation. We both sat on the back porch for a long time that evening, talking and crying. I told her that Mark was pressuring me to get an abortion, but I knew in my heart that this was a wrong decision. My mother supported me and encouraged me to meet with the pastor of our church. She told me that whether I chose to keep the baby or choose adoption, I was going to need a lot of support. Early the next morning, I called the church office and made an appointment with my pastor.
In the days ahead, Mark continued to badger me about getting an abortion. I still continued working at the YMCA, and he would use every opportunity while we were at work to make his wishes known. One day, he asked me if I would be willing to at least go and talk with a counselor about having an abortion. Before answering, I carefully thought out a plan. I agreed to the abortion counseling session with one stipulation. I told him that he HAD to agree to go with ME to talk to the pastor at my church. With objection, he finally agreed to the deal. The appointment with my pastor was already scheduled, and the appointment with the abortion counselor was a week later. I was thankful that things were scheduled as they were because my hope had been that after the meeting with my pastor, Mark would stop pressuring me to get an abortion. I met Mark at the church on the morning of the meeting with my pastor. We both walked into the church office and were led by the church secretary to my pastor’s office. Pastor Fisher was very welcoming. He and I had known each other for a long time. He was the same pastor who recommended me to work at Windermere for two summers. He knew of my love and commitment to Jesus. After some short introductions, he immediately jumped into the issue at hand. Pastor Fisher already knew of my pregnancy and the story behind it. Without wasting time or mincing words, he boldly looked at Mark and asked him if he loved me. Mark, once again, said no. He then looked at him again and asked if he had ever accepted the Lord Jesus as his personal Savior. Mark responded that he wasn’t really interested in religion. Pastor Fisher then looked at me and told me that as much as I didn’t want to be single and pregnant, forcing Mark to love and marry me would be a huge mistake. At that moment, I knew God was truly speaking truth through my pastor.
He then went on to encourage me. As I sat in his office with tears flowing down my cheeks, he said that he understood that I had a lot of unanswered questions. He also acknowledged the fear that so gripped my heart. But he followed up those statements with one simple choice to make – choose life or death, Jamie. He then backed that phrase up with his assurance of my love for Jesus, knowing that LIFE would be my decision. He was absolutely right! As I sat in his office and quietly wept, I nodded in complete agreement. I told him I was scared of the future, but he assured me God would be with me. He also assured me that my parents and my church family would walk alongside me. The decision to raise this baby on my own or place this baby for adoption was a choice that could be made later, but NOW was the time to choose life. After my pastor prayed, Mark and I went to our respective cars and drove away without speaking.
As I had stated earlier, Mark had been pressuring me to terminate the pregnancy. All of his reasoning seemed logical in his mind, but in reality, it was self-serving for him and him alone. After all that had transpired between the two of us, could I really believe that he had my best interest at heart? Absolutely not! You see, for that short time that I kept the pregnancy hidden, and in the dark, fear had power over me. When I exposed the situation to the light, Jesus gave me peace. Through His blood, He empowered me to face the evil weapons of the enemy with confidence. Earlier in my story, I mentioned that I made an agreement to accompany Mark to an abortion clinic for counseling. Mark really felt that if he could draw in allies for his position, I would finally come to my senses and agree to terminate the pregnancy. I had agreed to his request, already knowing ahead of time what my answer would be. A short time after my appointment with my pastor, my grandmother asked if she could stop by my house to visit with me. She told me that my dad had told her the news of my pregnancy, and she wanted to talk with me. I agreed to speak with her, but I was embarrassed. She was a God-fearing Christian woman, and I was afraid that she would express her disappointment with me. When she arrived, she loved me like she always had. There was no judgment in her heart, just love. We sat down together, and she began to share some personal information that deeply touched my heart. She told me that when she and my grandfather were a young married couple, she became pregnant. Fearing that they did not have the financial means to care for a baby, my grandmother made the difficult decision to have an illegal abortion. At the time, she and my grandfather were not Christians, but she told me that it was the worst decision she ever made. She told me that this guilty decision haunted her for many years until she had an encounter with Jesus and accepted the forgiveness of the Lord. She assured me that God was more than able to help me through this, and she pleaded with me not to make the same mistake she had. Weeping, we hugged one another, and I assured her that I was choosing life. Her willingness to share this private experience with me made such an impact on my life. Her testimony gave me the strength to face the challenges that were ahead.
On the day of the abortion counseling appointment, we agreed to meet on the abortion clinic parking lot. Did I really want to go? Absolutely not, but I have always been a woman of my word. I had a lot of anxiety about going into a place like this. I knew the Holy Spirit was with me, but on the other hand, I quickly recognized that I was entering the enemy’s territory. Once we both arrived, we walked into the building. I remember taking an elevator up a floor or two, and then the door opened. There in front of me was a scantily filled waiting room with a receptionist sitting behind a desk. Mark found a seat, and I approached the desk. The woman at the desk asked me if I had an appointment. I explained to her that I was there for a counseling appointment. She acknowledged my appointment time and asked me to sit in the waiting room until my name was called. As I waited for my name to be called, my heart was pounding out of my chest. All I wanted to do was run out of the place as fast as possible, but I was committed to following through. All the while, I whispered a prayer from my heart to Jesus. Before long, I heard my name called. I went to the desk, and a woman asked me to follow her. I followed her to an examination room, and she proceeded to hand me a hospital gown, instructing me to remove all my clothing from the waist down, and the doctor would be in shortly. I immediately told her that I was not there for an exam or procedure; I was there for a counseling appointment. She apologized for the mix-up and sent me back out to the waiting room. A mix-up? I seriously doubt it! Remember, I was in enemy territory! If my heart hadn’t been pounding fast before, it certainly was now. I waited a little longer, and finally, my name was called. I got up from my seat and went with Mark back to the office. The counseling session began with an introduction and questions. A middle-aged woman asked the question as to why we were there. I immediately looked at Mark and made him answer the question. After all, it was Mark who wanted the abortion counseling. After hearing his answer, the woman nodded in agreement like a bobblehead. Mark’s answers checked all her boxes. “This situation will ruin future plans for your life.” ✔ “You don’t have the financial means to take care of a baby.” ✔ “Being a single parent is very difficult.” ✔ “You will create a burden for those around you.” ✔ For a moment, we all sat silently with everyone’s eyes on me. Amidst the tension of the moment, this advocate for killing unborn children began to present me with drawings and explanations as to why the fetus was not a living human being. At that very moment, I experienced God’s fire and boldness arise in me. There is no way to explain it fully but it was the supernatural power of the Holy Spirit. Up until this point, I had not said a word, nor had I participated in the conversation. Like an out-of-body experience, I immediately stood to my feet and made it perfectly clear that she was deceived. I told her that God was the creator of life, whether it be by mistake or on purpose, and that the baby inside of me was, in fact, alive and real. I grabbed my purse and marched boldly out of the office. As I headed straight for the elevator, the waiting room was much busier. Women of all ages were waiting. Many of these ladies were waiting in hospital gowns, most likely waiting for their abortion procedures. The scene was so overwhelming for me. My heart broke for them because of their blindness to the truth. The elevator door opened, and I quickly got on. I couldn’t run to my car fast enough as the elevator reached the ground floor. Before I could pull out of the parking lot, Mark was suddenly standing beside my car. He was angry. He thought I had been rude and told me that I had embarrassed him. He told me that I was naive and not thinking any of this through clearly. In addition, he reminded me that he would not financially help me if I chose to follow through with the pregnancy. I glanced at him momentarily and drove away, leaving him standing in the parking lot.
As the weeks passed, I continued teaching my classes at the YMCA. Looking back, it probably wasn’t the best decision. I experienced tremendous stress working there, not to mention all the rumors swirling around me. My interaction with Mark was almost non-existent, which made things tolerable. On one occasion, Mark asked me to come to his office after my classes. I entered his office, and he told me that the executive director of the South County Y wanted to speak to us together. Mark continued, telling me that our meeting with “Steve” would not be at his YMCA office but at his home instead. Immediately, all the red warning flags went up. I asked Mark why this meeting was taking place at his home. The answer all came down to privacy. I reluctantly agreed to go. Mark and I drove to the executive director’s home the following Saturday morning. He and his wife greeted us at the front door and escorted us to their living room. Steve began to talk. Obviously, Mark had already filled Steve in on the details of the pregnancy and my decision not to terminate the pregnancy. I vividly remember Steve doing all the talking as his wife just sat back and observed. Not a peep came from Rick’s mouth the entire meeting. A couple of times during Steve’s monologue, he hinted at the inappropriateness of our relationship but seemed to mainly direct those comments toward me. Never during this meeting was I given an opportunity to express my feelings or convictions. After about 15 minutes of jumbled comments and opinions, the real reason for the meeting emerged. With his wife by his side, Steve boldly announced that I had no long-term career aspirations with the YMCA. On the other hand, he proudly stated that he personally knew Mark, and Mark had been employed with the organization for a long time. He went on to say that Mark had established himself as a significant partner within the YMCA family. For this reason, I was then asked to quit my job. Steve felt the situation would not lead to a positive professional environment, and the only logical answer to the problem was a voluntary termination of my job. I sat speechless for a moment as everyone was waiting for my response. Before I could say anything, Steve reiterated strongly that I had no real choice in the matter but to leave voluntarily. Feeling cornered, pressured, and outnumbered, I agreed to quit. There I was, an 18-year-old girl surrounded by a group of authority figures and I felt completely powerless and guilty. The meeting abruptly ended after I agreed to quit my job. Just like that, my job at the Y was over. No compensation, no nothing! I was concerned as to how I was now going to pay for the pregnancy and a baby, but I found myself learning to truly believe that God would make a way somehow.
Near the beginning of October, I was scheduled for my first prenatal appointment at the JFK Clinic located inside St. John Mercy Hospital. I was extremely nervous about going to the appointment. I had no idea what to expect, so my mom offered to accompany me as moral support. Before I was allowed to see the doctor, I had to make financial arrangements with the clinic for prenatal care and delivery. When my name was called, I went to the clinic’s financial office. The woman in the office could see that I was experiencing a lot of anxiety about everything that was going on. After asking me my name, address, and other basic information, she asked me if I had a job, a trust, or any financial support. I was so overwhelmed and embarrassed that I broke down crying and told her the whole story. She was business-like yet very compassionate. She asked me if I knew for sure, who the baby’s father was. I nodded yes. I then spoke up and told her that he only agreed to pay for an abortion, not a pregnancy. She looked up at me, smiled, and told me that Mark was sadly mistaken. She enrolled me in the Missouri Medicaid program and told me that whatever the state of Missouri could not extract from him, the hospital would pick up the balance of the cost. She provided me with a lot of supportive information, and I left her office feeling more hopeful than when I arrived. After returning to the waiting room, where my mother was waiting, I quietly began to tell her about my meeting with the financial office. Before I could finish telling my story, a nurse called me back to the examination room. I stood up from my seat and followed the nurse back to the room. They began the appointment by taking my blood pressure, requesting a urine sample, and drawing some blood. After some extensive health questions, the nurse handed me an examination gown and told me to remove all my clothes. She told me that the doctor would be in shortly. I hesitantly removed all my clothes and replaced them with the blue sterile gown. I sat on the examination table as nervous as anything. After what seemed forever, there was a gentle knock on the door. The doctor came in and introduced himself. He was a friendly, upbeat man who had a knack for putting me at ease. We talked for a little while and then he explained to me the examination he was going to perform. I’m sure my trembling body was a dead giveaway that I was a newcomer regarding the female exam thing. After the examination, we talked a little longer, and then he joyfully announced that my due date would be April 21st, an Easter baby! He seemed sincerely happy for me, which put me at ease and lifted my shame. He gave me a prescription for vitamins and a date for my next appointment. As I walked out of the exam room, I had a peace in my heart that God was going to take care of me. I knew the road ahead would have its difficult moments, but I also had assurance that I was not walking this road alone.
The next couple of months were filled with a rollercoaster of emotions. As I mentioned earlier, my neighborhood and high school friends had headed off to college. They were on the road to establishing a different life than myself. They were preparing for a career while I was preparing to become a parent. Over the passing weeks, I made the decision to raise this baby myself. Adoption was a selfless act, but it wasn’t something I wanted to do. I wanted to be the best mom I could be. Being a single, pregnant teenager was extremely lonely at times. Phone calls were never for me, and my social life became non-existent. Even during those lonely times, God was faithful in providing some special friends from my church to minister to me. These were ladies, many of them older than myself, that I had known since I was a pre-teen. They made it their mission to pray for me, teach me, and minister to my needs. I lost some friendships through this experience, but God replaced those people with people He knew I needed more. By mid-November, the holiday season was fast approaching. I busied myself with purchasing small Christmas gifts for family and friends, and I also began to learn about maternity clothing. Because my current clothing was beginning to fit too tightly, a woman from church took me shopping for clothes. Trying on big draping clothing was weird, but I was warned that what seemed too big now wouldn’t be too big for long. In addition, women from my mother’s weekly Bible study group began giving me used maternity clothes. God more than provided for my needs.
