Please.

Let's start with a little imagination.

I’m that girl you sat next to in biology class back when we were both in high school. Remember how we did a project together and laughed the whole time? I invited you to a Church Dance and you showed me pictures on your phone from your trip to Ireland.

Then we graduated, life got in the way, and here we are ten years later. We bump into each other and run into Starbucks to get drinks and catch up (and I get the mint hot chocolate, of course).

We’re sitting and talking and laughing together. When I ask you what’s new, you get quiet. You say, “Well, I just found out that I’m pregnant.”

I immediately gush, “Oh wow congratulations!! That’s so exciting!! How are you feeling?”

Then I see your face and suddenly scale it back. I realize that for you, this is in no way a ‘Congratulations!’ moment. I tentatively ask, “Are you okay?”

Then your lips are trembling and your eyes are tearing up and I can see in your face that you are in way over your head.

I get it. When you see the little '+' on a pregnancy test, it’s life-altering. For me, who was planning and praying for a baby, that moment was exhilarating.

But you were not wanting or expecting this curve in your life.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Yes, you do. You open up and tell me what's weighing on your heart and I just listen.

Motherhood is staring you in the face and you aren't ready. In fact, you're close to giving up and ending the pregnancy.

Now, you must know how I feel. I’ve delivered three babies and lost the fourth in a miscarriage. I’m very solidly a mother.

I’m sitting across the table from you, seeing the fear in your face and sensing how overwhelmed you feel.

I think I understand. You feel that your life is ending. You think that your body will never be the same, a baby will ruin everything, and pregnancy and labor are the most painful experiences known to womankind.

So I reach out and hold your hand with both of mine.

I look at you and I say,

“Motherhood is not the end. It is the beginning of a new way of life, a life just as good OR BETTER than the one you now have!”

So we talk. Friend to friend; honestly and gently.

I'm hopeful that I can help. Maybe what I say will help ease your anxiety and help you discern the best path forward.

First, have faith in yourself. Have faith that you are absolutely capable of completing a pregnancy and having your baby.

Have faith, too, that God can and will help you. Reach out to Him and I promise you'll find Him reaching back.

You, my friend, are also strong. You can do hard things.

I don't want to trivialize the burdens of pregnancy and child-bearing, because they are very real. You really will feel sick and achy. You'll probably swell and have joint pain. You'll gain weight. You'll come away with stretch marks.

But you're strong, dang it! You can go through difficult things and come out the better for them! The hardships associated with pregnancy are not suffering without a cause; you are literally giving place in yourself for your son or daughter.

After the pregnancy is over and you are holding your child, you'll understand that there was a piece of yourself missing all along, but now you've found her.

Your child is the piece of your heart that you didn't know was missing.

Perfect little Hyrum at 18 weeks

Pregnancy is tough, but you can do it. Having a baby will bring changes to your body, but they are not bad. After you’ve had the baby and finished nursing, you can be as slender and fit as ever. All will be well on that front.

Now, you mentioned being afraid of delivery.

This will surprise you, but labor is my favorite part of the entire pregnancy.

When you're in labor, you get to lie in a bed and watch TV, read, sleep, or anything you want for the entire day.

You know what else rocks? The epidural!!

I’m going to be Ms. Bossy Pants for a minute and recommend getting the epidural for this first baby. If you decide to have a second baby, you can go for a natural birth, but make this one easy on yourself.

Then comes the big moment when you meet your little baby for the first time.

When I had my first, I was pretty scared. I didn't know how to take care of a baby and, as silly as it sounds, I was afraid she wouldn't like me. After the baby was delivered, they cleaned her up and then put her on my chest, skin to skin.

I had this last flash of fear but then my arms were around my daughter. I just held her and cried because she was so beautiful. I looked into her little round face and saw her tiny snub nose. All that fear melted away. She was my little baby; I already loved her and she loved me.

Your little baby will want you. She’ll want you to hold her, to feed her, to cuddle and kiss her. She’ll stop crying when you pick her up. She’ll snuggle into your chest and sigh before falling asleep. She’ll look at you with total trust, with absolute love, and that will change you.

Baby Chantelle snuggled into Mommy

Your life will not be ruined, it will be changed into something extraordinary.

Your baby will be your companion, your friend, your little buddy.

Chantelle

She’ll want and need you and you’ll adore her.

You really will be best friends, forever.

But maybe you're still scared. If so, please listen.

I’m not on a pedestal above you, with a halo over my head, judging and condemning. Rather, I’m your friend, sitting here with you, wanting to help you however I can. What I'm about to say may sound hard, but oh, it's so important. If I cared less, I could just stop here and let you go. But I can't let you look down a path that I know will hurt without giving warning. Please know that what I say next, I believe with all my heart.

Please understand, killing your baby is not the answer. You and I both know there are medical instances where such actions are necessary, where the mother and baby will die unless drastic measures are taken, but we aren’t talking about those cases. We’re talking about you.

If you walk down the path of sharp instruments and life-ending pills, you will someday regret it.

It may not be now.

It may not be in a year or ten.

But someday, you’ll understand the crushing, horrifying reality that abortion means killing your child. YOUR child.

Hyrum and big sister Chantelle

It means forfeiting your own version of little Chantelle.

It means that there is a tiny hand that you’ll never hold and a life that you’ll never get to share.

Someday, all of us will stand before God and account to Him about our lives: the good and the bad. God cares very much about the choices we make that bring life and the choices we make that end it.

Please, don’t take away life. Please, move forward with the pregnancy. Have the baby. Decide then if you’ll keep her or give her to a couple who are aching for a child to raise.

Please, from a mother to a mother-to-be, err on the side of life. Make the decision that you won’t regret. Let your child live.

--

We wipe our eyes and laugh a little at how serious our casual conversation has become. Our drinks are finished and the cups trashed; it's time to go. We get up and give each other a big hug.

"It's going to be okay," I say one more time. "Just remember to have faith in yourself and don't be afraid of life. Motherhood is wonderful and good things are coming."

--Jenna




**Note: while the topics discussed here are very real and close to my heart, the actual conversation is fictional.