I was prompted this week, when reading a blog about abortion and how we have or haven’t dealt with it, to write a small response telling my story. Divorced, with a five year old son, finding myself pregnant at age 37 and in crisis. The father of the child was an also divorced friend, but the sheer reality of a pregnancy brought a quick end to both the relationship and the friendship.

I was surrounded by female friends who were very clear about what they would do if they found themselves in a similar position, and all offered in one way or another to drive me to the place to terminate this problem. I was adamant that the only women I wanted advice from were those who had either had an abortion or a baby out of wedlock. I knew only one of the former and none of the latter. This was before I became a Christian, so my friends were very forward thinking about what they “thought” they would do.

As for the one I knew who had recently ‘terminated an unwanted pregnancy’ (these words are cold and lifeless to me as I write them, somehow void of any emotion at all, something else that should have been telling for me even then), and when I asked her to tell me how she felt ‘now,  she burst into tears and then hung up on me. She never did tell me. I wanted to know what I would feel like twenty years later and I wanted to know that day. A very difficult thing, because even though abortion was legal, no one would talk about it. I kept thinking, how can they think this is a good thing, if it becomes something a woman has to keep secret for life?

Since I had already had a child, there was no convincing me it was not a child, and the decision had to be made quickly because each day was more painful and confusing than any I ever remember before or since; as I recall, I found out on a Thursday, drove to tell the father on a Saturday and was scheduled for the procedure on a Tuesday. There was little time to get input and weigh my options.

Not finding the support I had hoped for with the father, I was already at Monday night when I made a call to a good male friend on the other side of the country. I remember taking the phone to the basement (I lived in the northeast then and we had basements) so that my young son would never overhear this conversation about his sibling to be. I knew somewhere deep in my heart that I could never maintain the open, honest relationship we had if I erased all the evidence of someone who was also family to him, without even asking his opinion (I would never had gotten his permission, I knew, but it seemed a lot to hang on a five year old, no matter how grown up he seemed at the time). Then I listened to the words of a man whose only offspring had been terminated by a former girlfriend.

I will never forget the words he used, because they washed into my body and spread through my soul quicker than an IV bringing an instant end to the pain I was in. He said “What were you doing the next nine months that you couldn’t do pregnant?” There it was. Gray area, in a decision that had previously seemed to have only black and white sides to it. At that moment I experienced total peace and confidence that the decision to carry this pregnancy to term was the right and only decision for me. The decision to keep and raise that child could and did come some months later, but there was never a moment of looking back from that moment on to this very day, some 28 years later.

I offer this as an alternative that can be given to anyone who may find themselves at that crossroads with that enormous decision resting on their shoulders and so very heavily on their heart. Twelve words. If there is someone who can appreciate and embrace that gray area, they will recognize those words when they hear them. I responded immediately by laughing and crying at the same time, a whole world of trapped emotions bursting out of me in huge gasping waves.

Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Because I couldn’t think and I wasn’t in my right mind. How could I be? I will tell you that even though I am an artist who loves and appreciates bold and vivid colors and who has never been much of a fan of dreary, dull days I used to reference with this color, I have never been so grateful for gray as I was that evening.