On Friday, I was unsure of why I was even there. Although the music was incredible, the energy in the room over-the-top- nothing was really speaking to me. Of course I kept nodding off because foolishly I told work I would do the closing shift on Thursday (one of the other girls was really ill) and there was no one left to cover the hours. So I didn’t even go to sleep on Thursday night- just stayed up all night prepping the house, preparing foods for Mike and seeing to the cats.

But Saturday, the Lord came out of the middle of nowhere and started teaching me lessons and really battering me around.

The gist of the conference is that we as women are all keepers of secrets. We are for the most part broken and just trying to survive. God on the other hand, never leaves us and we are so precious to Him that he keeps our tears in a bottle. He sure must have a lot of bottles with my name on them!

Nicolle Johnson, a dramatist and strong, beautiful Christ-filled woman performed skits. One on Saturday really hit home in my heart. Ironically (or probably not so ironically) the night before, I had shared with my friend Hailey a secret of my past. One I have kept hidden for so many years because of the stigma and the shame attached to the word it related to. The last thing I shared with her about the experience I went through was that I remembered the blood wouldn’t stop.

When Nicolle began the skit, I realized why I was there and the dam broke. I had my friend hugging me, women clustered around me as I poured my heartache up to God.

The skit concerned an abortion- there, I said the word. I had an abortion in 1975 after my son died. My husband had decided after the doctors informed me that if I got pregnant again (I had had miscarriages, ectopic pregnancies, cysts on my ovaries) not only would the baby die, but so would I. So, Don decided to get a vasectomy.

Long story short, the vasectomy didn’t take and yes, I got pregnant again. The doctor called me at home late at night after I went to see him that day because I wasn’t feeling well. I need to clarify that during pregnancies, most women bloom, well, I wilted. I have what is called hyperemisis where I am allergic to the fetus. I am worshipping the porcelain god 24/7 and I am itching (on fire itching) for nine months. Nothing the doctors gave me stopped the vomiting for the itching. So when I went to see the doctor, I thought I had the flu. Turned out, I was pregnant.

Don was sick with a raging fever that night, so I turned to my mom. I had just lost my son and my sanity and I knew I couldn’t possibly go through another loss. I didn’t care if I died at that point, but I couldn’t see another baby lose his or her life. This time, it was double the pain because when the doctor told me “Mary Anne I am sorry to tell you this, you are not only pregnant, but it is twins.” I broke inside.

My mom said she would “take care of this” for me. I was numb and agreed. This was during the time when abortions were just coming out of back alleys and into specialized clinics. My mom made an appointment the next day for me and said she would take me. I thought she would stay with me through it- but I thought wrong, she dropped me off.

It was and has been the worst experience in my entire life. Humiliating how they treated all of us girls who were there- and I will spare the details but I will say that afterwards, the blood wouldn’t stop. I remember vividly that room that they shoved all of us into, the lumpy cots, the towels soaking up the blood- and it wouldn’t stop.

Nicolle did a skit on Saturday about this very situation. In her skit, she was a married woman who had just found out from her doctor she was pregnant and she got thrown into the past where she had an abortion. It was very powerful, and it ended with the sentence: “The blood wouldn’t stop.”

I crumbled and cried. I had women surrounding me, holding me up in prayer, hugging me, having no idea why I was so upset, but understanding that the pieces needed to finally be organized, put into a box so I could finally be whole again. It was simply incredible.

So, I have said it here on the Internet for all to see. I had an abortion and this procedure was necessary to save not one life but three. How twisted is that? The procedure messed me up really bad as it was crude and painful and later, even after Don had gone through a second vasectomy, one that did take- I had to have a total hysterectomy. I was 21 years old.

So this is my recovery period. Where the sectet comes out of the box, and God gets yet another bottle to collect my tears.