It was a stormy February afternoon. The thunderclouds were black as night, and the rain was coming down with force. Not outside. No, outside was a cool, sunny, winter day. But my life had just entered a storm.

It was still a blur in my mind. “You’re pregnant.” The words were still registering when I heard the doctor tell me I had two choices: “You can either keep this baby. It will change your life forever. You won’t be able to finish school and have fun with your friends. Or you can terminate it.”

“No, no,” I heard myself saying. “I’m keeping it.” I walked out into the waiting room, dazed. I looked at my boyfriend and decidedly said, “Let’s go.”

We got into his car and headed to my pastor’s house. There was a lot of tears, a lot of praying, a ton of guilt. My pastor reminded us of our forgiveness through Christ and our wonderful, though unplanned, opportunity to bring a life into this world.

It was time to tell my parents and my sister. The thunder was rolling; I was sure my dad could hear the boisterous booms within my heart. My dad was furious. How could his little girl betray our Lord? I felt horrible and frightened.

A wedding

I had waited for this day my whole life. I was born to be a wife and a mother. I couldn’t wait to get married and have babies. That was my dream job. And here I was, employed before the interview. Not how I had pictured it. There was no smiling and rejoicing when grandparents-to-be were told the news. There was no cute story to tell of how I found out I was expecting. There was no excited anticipation for the birth. Just disappointed faces, dreadful news, and humiliation.

The next four months were a mix of college courses, wedding plans, and prenatal doctor visits. Why were we so stupid? Why didn’t we just get married first? Those questions kept running through my mind as I stood looking in the mirror deciding on a wedding dress, but unable to see past my bulging midsection. I wanted it perfect. I wanted the perfect dress, on the perfect day, with the perfect ceremony and celebration. I wanted a perfect wedding and a glorious honeymoon followed by a nice sunny day when we told our families we were expecting. But how can a wedding be perfect when those getting married aren’t?

Forgiveness in Jesus

My husband and I were 18 years old when we began dating. We both came from a strong WELS background, and we knew the rules: “You should not commit adultery.” Though we had dated a mere five months, we were committed to each other. We spoke with our parents about getting married, but both sets of our parents said the same thing: “You are too young. You don’t know what you want yet. Finish school first.”