I never planned to be in that situation — the kind where you find yourself staring at two pink lines, feeling your whole world tilt. I was young, scared, and convinced that my life was over. I didn’t even know how to breathe properly that day. Everything felt like a blur — my dreams, my faith, my identity. I just wanted it all to go away.

The decision seemed simple at first: “Just end it.” I told myself it was the only way to fix the mess, to hide the shame, to pretend it never happened. I remember sitting in the clinic’s waiting room, heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the nurse’s voice. My hands were shaking. My eyes were dry — not because I wasn’t hurting, but because I had cried every tear I had left.

Then something happened that I can only describe as divine interruption. As I sat there, a woman next to me placed her hand on mine and said quietly, “You look like you don’t want to be here.” That single sentence broke me. She didn’t know me, but in that moment, I felt like God was speaking through her. She told me her own story — how she once made the same choice I was about to make, and how she still lived with the pain of it.

When I left that clinic, I wasn’t sure what the future held. I was terrified. But I also felt something I hadn’t felt in weeks — peace. It wasn’t an easy journey after that. I faced judgment, fear, and a thousand doubts. But with time, I realized that God hadn’t just saved me from an abortion — He had saved me from losing myself completely.

Today, when I look back, I see grace written all over that moment. God didn’t come to me with thunder or miracles. He came quietly, through a stranger’s kindness, through a whisper in my heart that said, “You’re still loved.”

If you’re reading this and you feel trapped, please know this — you are not alone, and your story isn’t over. God’s mercy reaches even into the messiest places. I’m living proof of that.