Asher’s Birthday

I don’t regret having my abortion last year. It’s 2017, and I’m in a recovery group with other women who have also experienced abortion. They all sit silently; it is a small gathering tonight. This week we are dealing with the topic of depression and I find it off-putting that I feel indifferent. Depression is something I am familiar with, so why don’t I feel an ounce of sadness? One of the leaders, sitting across from me in her living room, asks me if I feel comfortable sharing my thoughts behind not regretting my decision to have an abortion. Well, I think the baby avoided a world of pain. I mean, the father and I were in a toxic relationship. I don’t think we could have taken care of it well.The leader nods her head, deeply empathizing, and thanks me for sharing.

I call my sister as I normally do after group. I tell her that I feel heartless for my lack of remorse. I know what I did was wrong, so why can’t I feel it? I haven’t cried over my child like the other women have. She tells me that she isn’t sure why that is, but offers that it might take some time for me to fully process everything. I feel a little better. I arrive to my apartment and end the call with my sister. I lay down in bed after my nighttime routine and stare at the ceiling. Then, a reassuring thought passes my mind. I know the women in my group are praying for me. I don’t know how I sense it so strongly right now, but I know I am wrapped in the Holy Spirit’s presence. I fall asleep.


In my dream, I am in despair. Why does my baby keep running away from me? I finally catch up to him and fold him into my arms. There’s a disconnect. Why can’t I have this bond with my child like I’m supposed to? An image of a younger boy appears. He is in a dark corner, standing alone. It finally clicked. I am distant from my current child because I never connected with my first.


I awake with tears flooding down my cheeks. I sit up and curl into a ball, allowing myself to feel the pain of losing my baby. I notice that I don’t feel an ounce of shame. I realize that is it because God is not accusing me; He is comforting me with the presence of His love. It is the 14th of November, which is around the time my child would have been born. I decide that this is his birthday.


You would have been 6 this year. I cannot wait for the day I get to meet you, Asher.

~Written November 14th, 2022



Previous
Previous

He Gave Me A Way Out

Next
Next

Compassion