Telling My Children They Lost a Sibling…to Choice

One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do was tell my children that they lost a sibling. A sibling they never knew existed. One lost to the freedom of choice. The choice of abortion.

I was 19 and in college when I became pregnant. That story is here.

I was scared. I was young. I was prideful of all that I had achieved and all that other people expected of me. I didn’t want to be “that girl” that so many people ridiculed. The one everyone pitied because she “threw her life away.”

I let all those voices in my head control what I did with the baby in my body, and I chose abortion.

Telling my parents ten years later was extremely hard, but parents tend to love unconditionally. They were hurt, but they never turned their back on me.

Telling my siblings wasn’t difficult. They, too, had regrets from their past that they wished they could undo.

The same was true with my best friends. They could all relate on some level.

We’re all human.

Shared brokenness can be glue in families and friendships.

Telling our children? That seemed impossible. The possibilities that flooded our thoughts instead were:

How in the world could we expect them to make sound decisions when we had failed so miserably?

What if they called us hypocrites?

What if they became angry?

What if they saw our failures as permission to engage in risky behavior?

How could I expect abstinence from them when their dad and I had made such careless choices…choices that would cost their oldest sibling her life.

No one thinks about these things when they enter an abortion clinic. No one pictures the faces of their future children. Doing so would also require picturing the face of the life ended. Doing so would give that “fetus” personhood. Yes, even calling it a fetus makes the decision bearable.

Picturing its future siblings and wondering how you’ll tell them? Unthinkable.

Truth lives in the light. Secrets live in darkness.

Women considering abortion begin to prefer the darkness, though. Darkness keeps our secret hidden.

In darkness we begin to deny the existence of that baby. We just enter the clinic for a procedure. A necessary evil to hold our plans and dreams intact. The unplanned pregnancy has potential to destroy our planned path. So, we opt for abortion, because it’s legal.

Yes, we may know full well that it’s wrong, but we do it anyway. In our situation as young adults, it wasn’t just legal. It even seemed logical.

Legal doesn’t equate to right.

But we justify it with this: as long as no one knows, then it will be bearable.

It wasn’t.

It was crushing.

Life crushing darkness for one.

Soul crushing darkness for the other.

We knew that telling our abortion story would be necessary if we were going to all allow God to redeem it, though.

Only when a story is shared can others learn from it. Only when we come to grips with it can we move forward.

Secrets help no one.

For years we knew that we would eventually have to tell our children. We dreaded it immensely.

Discussing among ourselves was hard enough, giving this information to our children? Close to impossible, at least in our minds.

We didn’t have a plan, we were just prepared to discuss it when the time was right.

Little did I know that it would happen at the kitchen sink. Our youngest–our daughter–was about 13. We were home alone and discussing the boundaries that we had in place for her and her brothers. She was trying to make sense of them and felt restrained beyond what she thought was necessary. She felt like we didn’t trust her to make sound decisions. She felt empowered by her faith and all that we had taught her, but to her all of the continual life lessons were exhausting.

She said something like, “Mom, why does EVERYTHING have to be a lesson? You’ve taught us well, why can’t you trust us? Why are you so afraid we’re going to mess up?”

I wheeled around instantly. The time to tell her had presented itself.

I never imagined I would do it alone,but I had just been presented with an opportunity to give her the truth.

“You want to know why I find everything a teachable moment? Because I had rules and I still chose to go against everything I believed. I made choices. Permanent choices that I couldn’t undo.”

She was taken aback with such a passionate response from me. “What, Mom?”

“Dad and I were pregnant when I was 19 and we chose to have an abortion.”

There. I said it. Through tears but with a strength I never imagined, I told her the truth.

She responded in kind. Through tears and great strength she didn’t react as I had feared for years that she would.

Everything within her wanted to believe it wasn’t true. But it was.

Her only sister. The older sister she had always dreamed of having. Gone…by choice.

She had every right to be angry, but she wasn’t. She pondered for a bit what she had lost. (She still ponders that occasionally.) Then she wanted to know what I felt. Every detail of how it all happened.

Remembering was difficult, but therapeutic. The secret was surrendered to the one that I most dreaded telling, and the weight was lifted.

I told her dad that night that she knew and that we were going to tell the boys–ages 15 and 16–together. He dreaded it immensely but knew it was necessary.

Two days later, all 5 of us gathered to talk. They were in disbelief as well, but they didn’t ask a single detail. They sat there in silence.

The uncertainty of what they might be feeling was heavy, so we told them to fire away. To ask us any questions they might have, to share with us their anger or their hurt or anything else that they may justifiably feel.

We received two answers. One said, “No questions from me,” and the other, “I wish I didn’t know.” Neither wanted details or a lengthy conversation.

They never brought it up again.

They didn’t rush to tell their friends. They didn’t point accusing fingers at us. Only God knows how they processed it within their heart and mind, but we had prayed for years that He would gently guide them through it all.

He was faithful.

It has been 4 years since that time. They still don’t say much. They’re supportive of us helping others through their healing and restoration.

We’re thankful that they know. We can remember her as a family now.

We don’t have to live in fear any longer. Fear that someone else might tell them. Fear that they might think less of us.

They were much more understanding than we expected. They didn’t hurl insults and accusations in our direction.

They learned that their parents were real. Real people that faced real struggles. Real people that understand what they encounter way more than they imagine.

God has been faithful to his promise through Jesus in John 8:32 and 36, too.

“You will know the truth and the truth will set you free…

If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

That moment we released the truth to our children, we felt a freedom unlike any we had experienced in telling others.

Our children and their thoughts toward us matter. A lot.

But God’s thoughts toward us matter most.

“God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.

I am writing you a new command; its truth is seen in him and you, because the darkness is passing and the true light is already shining.”

1 John 1:5,9; 2:8

The darkness is passing. The true light is already shining.

How beautiful the light.