Editor’s Note: Please visit our home page for a full listing of abortion facts.

IsaiahName: Isaiah
DOB: 10/30/2000
Weight: 7 lbs 10 oz

I could not believe it when I saw the stick turn pink. How could I be pregnant yet again. You see, I placed my first child, Emily, in an open adoption in 1998. How could I do this again?

I called his Father, Michael, in distress. Over the phone I blurted out that I was pregnant. I was met with silence. Finally, when I burst into tears he spoke. “What are we going to do? Are you sure you are pregnant?”

“Of course I am sure” I snapped back through my tears! I was waiting for him to ask the infamous question and he did. “Are you sure it is mine?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t involve you in this if I was not sure” And I wouldn’t of. I am not into emotional mind games.

“We have to abort!” I cried. My heart broke to even utter the words. You see, I have always been prolife.

Six months earlier I trained at a local Crisis Pregnancy Center. I knew hat I should be there…for some reason. When it came time to actually volunteer…I did not feel lead to do so. It was as if I was only there to learn from the classes. “Why, I asked myself, am I here?”

“To save the life of your next child.” Was the reply. I shook it off.

The day I found out I was pregnant, those words haunted me. I know so much, I have talked with women who have or were intending on aborting…how could I?

Over the next few weeks, I stayed emotionally numb. I had to. I had to deny a part of myself, my mothering instinct. Whenever it would try to arise, I would push it down in a deep corner. I had to…If I allowed it to surface, I could never go through with it.

The Father and I continued to talk, but only because I went to my old job, where we met and he still worked. He promised to call me, but never did.

I began to research on the internet about the actual process…and what others who have been through it have said. I believe I cried for a week straight. I would curl in a ball and sob. I found heart wrenching stories. Countless.

These women were treated as cattle. Instead of someone listening to them…they saw them as a commodity. The physical pain they endured through the ‘procedure’ was nothing compared to the after effects emotionally. Abortion: One dead. One wounded.

Could I do this? What would people think of me? I gave one child up, and here I am doing it again. I am such a mistake, for that is all I can seem to do right, make mistakes.

I became very suicidal. I couldn’t tell my Mother, my family. I didn’t tell many people for the first four months. I felt utterly alone.

I had a plan. I knew how I would end my life. I wrote a letter…to my Mother. What got me out of that was the thought of breaking my Mothers heart to no repair. I love her. I can disappoint her, but I could not break her heart.

The Father continued to pressure me to abort. I was changing my mind, slowly. I was becoming a feeling person again. He could not have another baby he would say over and over again.

I even named the baby. I always knew it was a baby, not a piece of tissue. Elijah. I even put his name in a memorial for aborted and miscarried babies.
When I decided not to abort him, at three months along. I changed his name to Isaiah.

I then talked to many online, what I call, angels. They talked to me, informed me and reminded me the truths I knew deep inside. That I loved this baby, my baby. He needed me, he depended on me. I was his Mother.

When I told the Father I was going to give this child life, he became very upset. He was convinced that I was trying to ruin his life! What life, I thought. He had two other children. His life consisted of drugs and partying. At the age of 26, he was not going to slow down. He was an abusive man, never kept a promise.

“Your life” I said. “Remember, I was on my way to going to the private college I have been dreaming of going to…I was going to start life over again.” I tried to convince him this baby did not ask to be here..but does ask to have a chance to live. It was his right, and I would not take it away in the name of inconvenience.

The Father pulled away from me. He wanted to make this about him. We fought constantly. He promised many things, and broke them all. I was beginning to realize he would not stick around. I learned later he has another child on the way.

I was four months pregnant when I told my Mother I was pregnant. She is my role model, I adore my Mother. For the past few months, I was sure she would disown me. Well, I have learned never to doubt a Mother’s unconditional love. She was upset, of course. We are closer than ever. I lived under the fear of being disowned for no reason.

The rest of my family were supportive also. It was a big relief to me.

At five months pregnant, just before Father’s Day, I gave the Father a card. Inside I wrote a letter to him from the baby’s point of view along with a sonogram photo.

Two days later, he left my life and I have not heard or seen him since.

That letter that I put inside the card is now one of my most popular submissions on Themestream.

I continued the pregnancy without him. I was falling in love with this child more and more each day. I decided to parent him and prepared for his arrival.

I counseled with friends on the internet and even received gifts from people I had met. I even was sent a brand new crib and mattress!

People, strangers even, came through for my baby and I. Even ‘Abortion TV’ had send me a wonderful generous gift. It is easy to say you are pro-life, but to get out there and help a woman in need speaks volumes.

One day, I received a package in the mail. It was sent from the memorial I had put my, so I thought, soon to be aborted babies name in. As I held the piece of paper, which represented death, I thought of the child within me, he is alive.
On October 30, 2000 my beautiful son made his entrance into the world! He has changed my life more than I could have ever known.

My family adores him. I enjoy watching them love and fall all over him. They have helped me with diapers and clothing and such. I feel confident about the future.

I find some nights I creep to his bassinet and just watch him sleep. I gaze at his every detail…the curve of his tiny nose…the pattern of his sandy hair. His every breath is a blessing. Knowing that I had the right to take that away from him in the name of ‘choice’. What about his choice?

Isaiah is the miracle I did not know I needed.