I could wallpaper my home with the baby shower invitations and birth announcements I’ve received over the years. It’s like I’m in a constant rotation of holding new babies, delivering meals to sleepy parents, and buying impractical but irresistible baby outfits. 

This constant rotation is one I am more than okay with, though. Holding a newborn child never gets old to me. The miracle of new life whispers that every human exists on purpose, and shouts of the truth that we were made by a Creator.

But when I held baby Jordan for the first time, it was different. I was still awestruck at his beauty—the tiny, perfect features and the resemblance to his mama—but there was something more that gripped my heart that day as I held him close.

Jordan was almost aborted. Six times, actually.

A boy who almost wasn’t

His mother, Genine, is a beautiful and strong woman. She has a light that shines from deep within when she speaks, and when she looks at Jordan, her love for him is unmistakable.

But I remember when I first met her, when the news of her pregnancy was still fresh. The strain of a life interrupted was visible on her face. I’d never before seen such a war waged within a person. The struggle between what we want and between what is right—the struggle every person faces—played out before me in a way I won’t forget.

She was gracious and appreciative of our help, but also adamant that abortion was her only option. “I know this is wrong,” she said, “but I just can’t be a mom right now. There’s no way I can graduate. I just can’t do this by myself.”

The air was thick with the tension of a choice. A struggle. A war.

So when I offered her a free ultrasound on our mobile medical unit, I was surprised when she agreed to come.

The moment Jordan’s image appeared on the ultrasound screen—accompanied by the rhythmic blip of his heartbeat—is one that will forever be etched in my memory. Not so much because of Jordan, although he was fascinating to watch. It was because of Genine’s face. It changed.

A mixture of awe and wonder registered in her eyes, followed by sadness. She was silent. Torn. Again, the struggle. The war.

In the days that followed, Genine and I exchanged many texts and phone calls, and I learned that she made six separate appointments at an abortion center. She drove to the abortion center six times. And by God’s grace, Genine left that place—six times.

For many, abortion is more of an abstract concept—it doesn’t have a face. We are burdened by its existence, and we may speak out against it, but we don’t see it. We aren’t affected by it. But as I held tiny, perfect Jordan, the dark reality of abortion broke my heart all over again. Here in my arms was a boy who almost wasn’t. By God’s grace, his mother found the courage to choose life for her child.

Think, however, of all the little Jordans who are lost every day. And think of the mothers who are fighting these internal, unseen, spiritual battles.

Walking alongside women

Many Saturdays I have stood outside the abortion center in Greensboro, North Carolina, to pray for the women who enter its doors. I watch as, one by one, women are escorted from the building—no longer pregnant, but still visibly conflicted. Still torn.

Guttmacher reported that in 2020, more than 930,000 abortions were performed in the United States. That’s more than 2,500 unborn children whose lives were ended every single day. That means more than 2,500 mothers and 2,500 fathers were left to face the aftermath of their decisions every day.

In his book Knowing God, J. I. Packer makes the argument that those who know God have great energy for God. He says, “While their God is being defied or disregarded, they cannot rest; they feel they must do something; the dishonor done to God’s name goads them into action.”

Until we make this personal—until we get involved in the lives of these women, care for them, show up to intercede for the preborn, and refuse to rest while our God’s name is being profaned with every “procedure”—until then, we will not see an end to abortion.

A few months after Jordan was born, I received a text from Genine. It was a picture. She was in her cap and gown, a fresh college graduate. “Graduated with honors,” she said. “I did exactly what you said I could do.”

Genine’s story—her internal struggle—is the story of many women who are faced with unplanned pregnancies. But too often, these same women believe the lie that abortion is their only option. How many stories could turn out differently if these women were taken by the hand, offered practical support, and told “Yes, you can do this, and we will help you”?

My prayer is that this loving response would be the response of Christians as we seek to end abortion. That we, as the Church, would be unable to rest as long as abortion exists in our cities. That because we love God, we would love the women and men facing unplanned pregnancies and the preborn children they carry. That we would look these women in the eyes and make it personal—because there truly is no other appropriate response for the believer in Christ.

About The Pregnancy Network

The Pregnancy Network is a pregnancy resource center that serves the Triad of North Carolina. Our mission is to empower women to face their unplanned pregnancies without fear. By providing women with free medical services, educational and material resources, and mentorship opportunities, we believe we can help each woman go from “undecided” to “empowered.”

Our Accelerator program exists to maximize the potential of pregnancy centers within their communities through customized coaching. We partner with individual pregnancy resource centers to build the tools and resources necessary to mobilize the local church and serve women with compassion in their local communities. To find out how your local pregnancy center can partner with The Pregnancy Network, contact Allison Herrington, our director of Partnerships, at [email protected].