I grew up in a physically and verbally abusive home. My youngest sister drowned when I was seven years old and my mother blamed me for it. I cooked, cleaned, cared for my siblings, and received daily beatings from my mother. I was told to be quiet, take what was coming to me, and not talk about our family. I did just that.
When I was 13, my mother told me I was fat, ugly, and unlikable. She told me know one would want me. She also said that if I ever talked with anyone about her I would be sorry, because anyone would believe her before they would believe me.
I did everything I could to win friends. I wanted so much to be liked. At age 17, I became pregnant. My mother told me she would not help me raise a child and that I must have an abortion. I did as I was told.
Right after the abortion, I shut down emotionally. It seemed to be the last straw for me. I didn't receive any counseling and there wasn't anyone to talk to. When I came home from the abortion clinic, my mother was angry and screamed at me, "You killed my grandbaby. You're worthless."
I was confused and hurt. I had killed my baby and got my mom even madder -- and realized that no one cared. I withdrew even more; I was filled with loneliness, guilt, and shame.
Eventually I moved in with a man who let me do as I pleased. When I found out that I was pregnant again, I told myself that this time I was going to keep it. I gave birth at 27 weeks to a one pound, two ounce baby girl. I married her father, and we went straight into alcohol, pot, and cocaine. I started stealing to support our habits, and ended up in and out of jail.
During this time, I had five miscarriages. Then I gave birth to a boy. I smoked crack cocaine up until my arrest at eight months of pregnancy. My son was born while I was in a county jail waiting to go to prison. He was perfectly normal. I know God had his hand on me; His mercy and grace saved my life and my little boy.
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http://www.afterabortion.org/PAR/V7/n2/released.htm