The Day I Helped Save a Life (or Why I Will Always Be Pro-Life)

This is the first in what I hope to be a series of posts on important days in my life and/or the life of our family.  There are so many forgettable days in our lives, I think it is important to occasionally shine a light on the ones that were life changing.  These are the details, to the best of my memory....

My sophomore year of high school was challenging, to say the least.  It was the year our family moved from Iowa to Kentucky when my dad got transferred through his job.  It was also the year my parents ended up separating.  That last detail has nothing to do with this story other than to explain the fact that a large part of the end of my sophomore year and most of my junior year of high school are somewhat of a blur.  I think I've spent a lot of years blocking that mess out of my memories.  Anyway....

I want to talk about my sophomore math class, Algebra 2.  More specifically about two girls who changed my life and perspective in a most important way. 

School has always come easily for me.  I learned to read at 2 years old.  I could put puzzles together like a boss from a very young age.  I was bored out of my mind through most of grade school and part of middle school because I wasn't being challenged.  The downside to this boredom was not that I got myself into trouble like some kids in my position have been known to do, but that it affected my motivation to challenge myself and it also affected my confidence in myself in a negative way.  You see, my only struggle in school has always been math, specifically Algebra.  I don't have the mind for it.  Geometry was easier for me, but Algebra and I didn't get along.  Everything else came so easily to me that it was hard for me to accept that I struggled with math.  So when it came time to sign up for my sophomore Algebra 2 class the summer before I would start at my new school, I underestimated myself and signed up for the Regular Track Algebra 2 instead of the College Prep Track Algebra 2 class that would have been in line with my CP Track course of study.  I was afraid to get a bad grade in the CP class so I took the Regular class in hopes that I could get an A or at least a B in that class.  What happened was that I was now in a class with a considerable amount of trouble makers and kids who hated school, some of whom were low income, some of whom came from single parent homes.  Not exactly the kind of crowd I was used to.

I ended up seated in the very last seat, second row from the right.  I don't remember if this was assigned seating or if I just sat there because it was the only seat available.  It doesn't really matter, but I ended up seated between two redneck boys who talked about Country music, and two troubled girls who spent the 5 minute break before class started talking about having sex with their boyfriends.  Boy did I feel out of place.

These two girls were named Carla and Heather, if memory serves.  They were both juniors, both in the Regular Track, and both poor students, mostly I think because they didn't want to be there.  Carla was a tall black girl with the longest, skinniest legs I've ever seen.  Heather was a shorter white girl with a cute figure and dirty-blonde hair. They talked about their boyfriends, both named Derek but with different spellings, both of whom they were apparently having lots of sex, if you believed their conversations.  I got the impression that their fathers were not involved in their lives and that their single mothers had to leave them alone a lot due to work.

Sometime late in the Fall or near Winter I came into class one day and the demeanor of Heather and Carla was very different than their norm.  They spent most days laughing and joking around during the break.  But on this day Carla was very quiet and Heather spent the entire class with her head on her desk, occasionally lifting her head long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes and to blow her nose.  I didn't know what was going on, but I could guess.  My suspicions were soon confirmed the next day when I sat down just in time to hear Carla ask Heather what she was going to do about her situation.  "I guess ask Derek to drive me somewhere to get an abortion," she said.  I don't remember exactly what the rest of their conversation entailed, but I'm pretty sure Carla was trying to be supportive of her decision--maybe not because she thought it was the right choice, but because she was trying to be loving to her friend.

When I arrived home from school that day, my mom was reading something.  I asked what it was and she told me it was her latest newsletter, I believe from Focus on the Family, and it was about abortion and what happens during the different procedures.  There may have been some information in it about partial-birth abortions as well, I don't really remember since it has been about 20 years.  When she was done reading it, I took it and read the entire thing in disgust and sadness.  It was the first time I can recall ever really understanding what an abortion really is.  Of course I knew that it resulted in a dead baby, but I didn't really know about the process.  I was so disturbed and so sad.  And all I could think about that night was Heather and her unborn baby--the baby that she was thinking of aborting, without even knowing what it entailed, just so she wouldn't have to tell her mother that she had gotten pregnant out of wedlock, at 17 years old.

The next morning as I was getting ready for school I asked my mom if I could borrow her newsletter.  I didn't really know what I was going to do with it, but I felt the Holy Spirit prompting me to take it with me.  She said it was fine, and I stuck it in my backpack. 

Algebra was my next to last period of the day.  I walked into class and took my seat, brought my book and binder out of my backpack, along with the newsletter.  I didn't say a word.  I just sat and started re-reading the newsletter, I don't know what I was thinking or what I thought would happen.  I certainly didn't expect what happened next.

Heather, who had never said a kind word to me since the first day of school, turned to me when she saw me reading the newsletter and said, "Hey, what are you reading?"  I didn't say a word and simply handed the newsletter over to her desk, where she proceeded to read the entire thing with tears in her eyes.  When she finished reading, she gently placed it back on my desk, put her head down on the desk, and cried for the rest of class.  I felt so much sorrow for her, she was in so much emotional pain.  As class ended I gathered my belongings, put my backpack on my back, and walked out the door as quickly as I could, while Heather and Carla got ready to head to their next class.

The following week I came into class and Heather and Carla were back to their normal, noisy selves.  I could hear them talking about their weekend.  But instead of talking about all the crazy things they'd done that weekend, I could hear Heather tell Carla about how she was so surprised by her mom's reaction to her pregnancy announcement.  Her mother didn't kick her out of the house.  She didn't condemn her.  She told her she would support her decision, whatever that would be, and if she chose to keep her baby, she had a place to stay.  Heather decided that weekend that she would be keeping her baby.

Her boyfriend, Derek, predictably broke up with her and fled as soon as she told him.  Heather continued the remainder of her pregnancy through the school year, and when school ended that year I never saw her at school again because of being on different Tracks.  I did spend a month that Summer in Summer School to get my Health Class credit out of the way, and saw Carla one day near the end of the term.  She told me that Heather had had her baby, a little girl she named Katie, over the Summer and that her mom was helping her take care of her.  I was so happy to hear that she was getting the support that she needed and that she had chosen life, even in a difficult situation.

About 3 years later when I was in college, I was working at the local Kroger grocery store.  One afternoon I was out in the parking lot gathering carts when I saw Heather.  As I walked past her I said hello and asked how she was doing.  She recognized me immediately, although I'm pretty sure she didn't remember my name.  But she did make a point of gesturing to the adorable blonde girl holding her hand and saying to me, "This is my daughter, Katie."  I told her how beautiful she was and let her head to her car.  And as I walked away I had tears in my eyes and a knot in my throat.  I had just met the little girl that I had helped to save.

I will always, ALWAYS, be pro-life; always and in all circumstances.  After this experience, how could I ever not be?  I saw first-hand the life that I helped save.  I saw first-hand how a little information goes such a long way.  And I saw how being a quiet, loving witness can help someone know and understand that there are other options. 

I've only shared this story with a few people over the last 20 years, because I don't want people to think I'm bragging about it.  But I still think of Heather and Katie to this day and I wonder what ever happened to them.  Katie would probably be about the same age today as her mother was then.  I hope that if she ever ended up in the same position as her mother that her mother gave her the same grace and support that her own mother gave her all those years ago.