I was already a single mom struggling to care for my two-year-old son when I took that pregnancy test, convinced at the time it would be negative. I was wrong.  Three minutes and two lines on a stick later, I was floored to find out that I was yet again pregnant, and I hadn’t spoken to or even seen the father in quite some time.

I immediately knew that keeping the baby was not an option, for a lot of reasons.  One of my best friends told me that she had gone through four abortions and the procedure was not painful and I would feel fine afterward.  I asked her if she ever thought of those babies around what would have been their due dates, and she replied that she didn’t even remember any of the due dates.  This surprised me and also let me know that we were different: I would always think of my baby around the expected due date, which, coincidentally, was only a week away from my own son’s birthday.

I continued to listen to my friend and came up with the five hundred dollars it would cost to have an abortion. I made and kept an appointment with the abortion clinic, alone.  My name was called, and I followed the nurse back to a room where she drew a small amount of blood. Then I was herded into a series of three full waiting rooms of women who were there for the same awful reason.

I felt an overwhelming feeling of death all around in the somber faces of the other women there, including my own. I wrestled with whether or not this was going to be a decision I would be able to live with.  As I sat, alone, I prayed silently and pretended to read a magazine.  I have never, before or since, heard the voice of God so loudly in my head: “Brooke, don”t do this.  I have a plan for this baby.  Don”t do this!”

I remained at that horrible clinic long enough to see the “fetus” on an ultrasound.  I began to cry uncontrollably and inquired how much it would cost if I left without having the procedure done.  One hundred twenty-five dollars saved the life of the “fetus.” 

I was still dead set against keeping the baby.  I couldn’t handle it, financially or otherwise. I began contacting different adoption agencies, and only one agency called me back. I met with the birth parentcounselor when I was about four months pregnant, and I began the process of placing the baby for adoption.  By then I knew the baby was a boy. I did my best not to become attached to the baby growing inside me, but it was hard.

I chose the perfect family from a huge stack of profiles of families wanting to adopt a baby.  The family I chose was willing to have an open adoption, which was my primary condition. I met with them in January of 2004, and kept in touch via email during the last few months of my pregnancy.  I fell in love with them.

I wasn’t due to have the baby until April 7th.  I had hidden my pregnancy from my entire family during the holidays, though, and I didn”t want to be pregnant when I was with them on Easter.  I asked my doctor if I could be induced early.  To my surprise, he said “yes.”  An induction was scheduled for March 29, 2004.

I excitedly emailed the parents I had chosen and let them know that the induction had been scheduled and they would have their baby in less than a week! They were as excited as I was, but for very different reasons. I was excited because after the baby was born, my life would be back to normal. They were excited because they would be getting their new baby sooner than planned!

The day came to deliver the baby.  I wanted the adoptive parents to be in the delivery room with me.  This was going to be their child, and I wanted them to see him take his first breath. The delivery room was filled with love.  Nurses were crying and praising me for the decision I was making. The whole thing was unbelievably beautiful.  Sometimes I want to go back, just to feel the love that was there that day.

They named him Evan, and he will be five years old this March.  Every time I get to see his beautiful face, I am reminded of the devastating decision I almost made in that clinic that day in September of 2003. I suppose I am writing just to let other girls know that there are other options than abortion which could save them from making a mistake that could haunt them for the rest of their lives.

I think about Evan every day, but they are happy thoughts about a very happy little boy who holds a very, very special place in my heart. I adore his mom and dad – they are so hospitable and allow me to visit with Evan any time my schedule allows. I thank God every day that he led me out of that clinic and helped me find the perfect family for my healthy, beautiful baby boy. 

I now work with an agency that counsels young women who are confused about what to do with their unplanned pregnancy. Thank you for giving me an outlet to tell my beautiful story of Evan. I have been visiting this site since I was pregnant. It helped me, and I hope that my story will help other confused and scared girls.  Keep your head up, and know that there is support and strength through these situations with the help of God and good friends and family.