God Doesn't Forget Anyone - Project:USED

When we were in California, I brought some used dresses that I’d found weeks earlier at the thrift store. I wanted to have a project:USED fashion shot at the beach. 

These dresses range in price from $1.00 to $5.00.  New, some of these would be over $100.

Why a used dress?

Used is an interesting word.  It can mean worn-out, discarded and thrown away. It can mean old, no longer of value or trash. That’s how I felt at the age of 18 after I was sexually abused by my boss.  I lost much of my self-worth and didn’t see value in myself anymore.  Many of the choices I made in my life were influenced by my low self esteem.  I didn’t realize what had happened to me other then I was broken and there was no way out.

But, God doesn’t forget anyone.  He certainly didn’t forget me.

Little by little, drip by drip love came into my life. It took years, but slowly, the blinders came off my eyes and I started to see how sexual abuse had stripped me of so much of my identity.

So what does a vintage dress have to do with sexual abuse?

When I was 14, my mom took me to the Child Crisis Thrift Store in Mesa.  This was my first time at a thrift store and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.  Mainly, I would purchase dolls, Barbie’s and toys for my little brothers and sisters.  While in college, I started thrifting for clothes, mainly anything vintage.  I would wear bell-bottoms, turtle necks and A-line skirts. The first time Derek saw me at the ASU ward church service, I was wearing a 1960’s used pencil dress I’d found at Salvation Army.  I felt like a million bucks in that dress and that was the day he asked for my phone number.  With a borrowed pen, I wrote my phone number on the palm of his hand. He says it was love at first sight. I say it was the dress.

When I started selling clothing I found at thrift stores on eBay, I found used dresses sold the best.  I might find an Ann Taylor or Eileen Fisher dress for $1.00 and later it would sell for $50.  

Here are a few dresses I sold.

Aren't they all gorgeous, unique and wanted.

On dollar day at Goodwill, I would first search through the dress section because a used dress sold even better than a used pair of designer jeans.  

I discovered designer dresses I’d never heard of before and because of the beautiful fabric, the feel of quality, the impeccable design, I would know immediately it was valuable.

Then, my friend Jenn showed me how much a vintage dress costs on ETSY - hundreds of dollars and I could see why.  A vintage dress isn’t just a dress; it’s a piece of time, made before companies cut corners, made when fashion was born.  These dresses are etched in movie history and worn by celebrity goddesses.  A vintage dress was a statement!

Used, beautiful, priceless – not just a dress, but that was me too!!

At times, my healing from sexual abuse felt like I was riding a roller coaster.  I would speed into such awareness of how much I’m loved, that I am a daughter of God and because of that, I’m priceless.  This is what happened the day I thought of project:USED. (You can read about that here). 

If you want to support project:USED, get to your thrift store, raid your mom’s closet or look on-line and find yourself a gorgeous used dress.  USED doesn’t need to be less-then, old and garbage, it can mean beautiful, restored and priceless. #projectused 

Eden and I have been wearing used dresses for a while now.  It started with Dressember. Dressember asks women during the month of December to wear a dress everyday (it doesn't have to be a vintage or used dress, that's just my take on it) to raise awareness, to celebrate the female spirit and to raise awareness and funds for those who are being sold into sex-trafficking.

All these dresses are used.  Dresses have really helped me reclaim myself, my femininity and to love my body again.

I remember on time I was in New York at a Writer's Conference and I wanted to bring Eden back something beautiful.  I stopped at a boutique and found a used dress priced $90.  "Forget it," I thought and found a Goodwill. I bought her a used dress for $5.00, even cuter then the dress I'd found at the boutique.  Sometimes, I even find French little girl dresses.  A beautiful dress does not need to be expensive.

$2.99 dresses from Goodwill.

I celebrate these dresses because of what they represent to me.

If you’ve been hurt or abused, if you’ve wondered if you’re valuable, please know you are. You are a one of a kind, made by the greatest designer of all, created to shine, to be beautiful and because of you, the world is a better place.  Let’s raise awareness.  Sexual abuse is a plague and we protect those around us, especially the younger generation.  Did you know 1 out of 3 girls will be sexually abused in her lifetime?  

Click here to watch it full-screen on youtube.  Please share this video.

My memoir Starving Girl shares my story of overcoming sexual abuse, food addiction and emotional eating.

Click here to watch it on full-screen.
Follow project:USED on facebook by clicking here.

Overcoming Is Not What I Thought It Was

When I set out to write Starving Girl, I wondered what made the difference between always wanting to share my story to finally being able to do it. 

Yes, I was fasting 16-18 hours everyday, which granted me incredible clarity of mind and personal insight I’d never experienced, but there was something more.  For 30 days, I literally wrote like my life depended on it.  When I had help with my baby Canyon, I might write for 8 hours a day.  Not only did the exercise of writing help me cope, even lift me out of the hunger, but it seemed one of the purposes for which I was inspired to fast in the first place.

Hanging out with my beautiful sisters and Mom on Easter.

When Starving Girl was nearly finished, I set out to write the back jacket hook.  

This would be a very condensed description of what the book was about.  I thought about it for days.  What had I accomplished? How was my story relatable to others? 

In the past, I’d attempted to write snippets of my life here and there, but had fallen short of finding my true authentic voice.  I was still trying to hide behind shame, hurt and misunderstanding. I had a goal – to help others who’d been sexually abused find their voice again, find their worth.  Was my story one of tragedy?  Sorrow?  Injustice?  It once was.  That’s when I realized the difference.

Through fasting, through writing, through prayer and having an intense desire to help others, my story was no longer hopeless.  No more did I see myself as someone with little to no worth.  My story had changed from one of being a victim to one of overcoming.

But, overcoming was not what I thought it would be.

Date night with hubby.

Overcoming is not a goal in the end zone.  It’s not applause on the stage.  It’s not a moment in time where things go from tragic to magical.  For me, overcoming came when I finally had the courage to take my truth, the good, the bad and the ugly and reach out to help others.  My story serves as a witness that I understand, that I’ve been there, that what you are feeling I’ve felt. 

In other words, I started to see the strength in what I’d been through. When I felt (and still feel) defeated, I find strength in other's journeys of overcoming.

In writing Starving Girl, I’m hoping others will see a piece of themselves and open up to the truth that sexual abuse, low self-esteem, negative body image, emotional eating and being overwhelmed in a world that is constantly sending us so many distorted messages -  does not need destroy us.  We can overcome.

For me, overcoming was facing my truth. It was staring at it in the mirror.  I could only do this through writing.  I finally had to take time and listen to myself. Overcoming was not only being sympathetic to others, but to myself. I think everyone's journey to overcoming is different, but it leads to the same path - a desire to help others. 

This is what I love so much about the stories in What Has Your Sister Done.  There is a freedom in writing your truth. 

Overcoming is like a tidal wave.  Some days it’s fierce.  Some days I’m a force to be reckoned with. Some days, overcoming is like a ripple.  Small, it might reach one or two in my circle and I may not even know it.  Overcoming is pulling at something deep and bringing it to the surface.  Overcoming is standing as a witness not just for others, but for yourself.  It’s staring at murky water and instead of seeing muck, noticing your own beautiful reflection staring back at you.  Even muddy water has to reflect the sky.

What Has Your Sister Done Published

WHAT HAS YOUR SISTER DONE – Stories of Unplanned Pregnancy is available on Amazon. 

The Cover! 

Check out this beautiful cover. 

The tender photograph is of Rosa Dilworth Reyes and was taken just before she placed her baby for adoption. I interviewed Rosa on the phone and like most of the stories in the book, was overcome with emotion as to what she experienced, the courage she displayed and obstacles she faced during her unplanned pregnancy.

She said “When I decided to place my baby for adoption, my counselor had me write a letter to myself, reminding me why I was placing her. Without that letter of commitment, I’m not sure if I would have followed through. My emotions were pulling at my heart and I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to do what I’d set out to do. Even though it was hard, it was the best thing that could have ever happened because I had a fresh start. I could be who I wanted to be, which was the best person for my daughter. She needed to know I was going to make my life right.”

There may be someone today struggling with an unexpected positive pregnancy test or maybe she has known for weeks she’s pregnant, but is too scared to talk to anyone about it. Once you read what many young woman face with an unplanned pregnancy, you will want to step forward and be there, to love and help those in need.  Thank you to all of those who have supported this project.  It has been life-changing.

To see the book on Amazon, click here.

My Dear Trash – the title of my blog offended somebody.

A young woman in a facebook group who I had sent a friend request to responded in a way I hadn’t expected. 

I told her I was writing a book called WHAT HAS YOUR SISTER DONE – Stories of Unplanned Pregnancy. “If you know anyone who has a story they’d like to submit, please have them send it to my email at mydeartrash@gmail.com,” I wrote.

“My dear trash, are you serious?” she responded.

Maybe she’d heard of my blog.  Was she a fan?

“Yep, that’s me,” I replied with confidence, not reading into her repulsive tone yet. 

“I will never send anyone to you, no way.”

For a moment, I didn’t understand.  Did she not know I’m advocating for the unborn, searching for those tender stories of unplanned pregnancy, trying to help others in similar circumstances.  And then I realized, My Dear Trash.  Oh my gosh.  Was I serious?  This was awful.

My Dear Trash – finding value where others may not see it.  That’s the core principle this blog was started on.  I wrote it up on my first blog post almost nine years ago.

My Dear Trash – a great title while writing about my latest thrift store finds, or how I dumpster dived and saved a vintage dresser from the landfill death. 

My Dear Trash – because we as a society throw so much away, too much away when there’s still value in our trash and I’ve spent almost a decade proving it.  I’ve made a living off of other people’s trash.

My Dear Trash – written by someone who has felt like trash most of her life.  And why would I?  I have a beautiful family, seems to be together (most of the time anyway), oh, but my story has just started.  I’ve been peeling away at it ever since I sold used name-brand clothing I found at thrift stores on eBay.  I’ve been trying to find value in my self the entire time, not those designer Rock n Republic Jeans, not that .99 cent used Eileen Fisher cashmere sweater I sold for $100, but me.

My Dear Trash – about so much more then thrift stores and vintage trends.

My Dear Trash – a blog about babies?  My baby?  What type of society would ever deem a baby as trash?  Sickening.  Babies thrown away?  Not in America.  No woman, no mother would consider such a thing, would they. 

My Dear Trash – sexual abuse, that nasty statistic that 1 out of 3 girls in this country experiences that lead me to feeling worthless even when my life was filled with tremendous bounty.  The reality of a pregnancy scare after I was sexually abused, how food addiction and negative body image has been a cover up for shame and hurt, how abortion is not just about women ending their unplanned pregnancy, but about dysfunctional abusive men who continue taking advantage of women.  Do these men find value in women or do they see them as trash?  It had been a lie I’d taken responsibility for way too long. 

My Dear Trash - I was a young girl when I first saw the image of an aborted baby in a book my mom was reading.  Why was that baby thrown away?  I was raised by an activist mom who coined the term “prebirth studies.” She collected stories from women all around the world who had seen their unborn children in dreams or visions.  Ultimately, her research dared her to ask the question “What happens to the soul of an aborted baby?”  Through more research and pivotal stories of abortion, survival, overcoming and second-chances, my mom was able to start a controversial discussion that still continues:  Are our children alive before they are born? 

My mom's book can be found here.

My Dear Trash – With all I knew about abortion, what would I decide when facing my own unplanned pregnancy?

So what do I say, to the girl who’s offended by the name of my blog?  I sent her a link to my most recent post, how my son, this most loved and adored baby who came into my life almost two years ago, is my perfect expression, how his life has given my immeasurable purpose, how his influence has transformed my children outward and I watch in awe as they love and nurture him. 

My beautiful family at Christmas time this year.

I learned in the most meaningful way that children just like my baby deserve a chance at life and that abortion is one of the cruelest, most dysfunctional options a society can ever offer a women. 

  The link to the blog post My Baby is My Perfect Expression is here.

My Dear Trash – because much we throw away has tremendous value, especially if we are throwing away our babies. 

So very thankful was I when this girl responded within moments of my message.  “I understand,” she said.  “You are most loved by God for all you are doing.  Thank you.”

I’m glad she questioned the name of my blog, as it’s given me time to consider the many meanings it has offered to me.  Never could I have discovered a more deserving, meaningful, richly deep and purposeful name.  It was given to me in a dream and I write about this experience and other experiences in my memoir Starving Girl.

My book can be found here.

In other news, December 2016 was my last month at Merchant Square and Antique Plaza.  My workshop is cleaned out. No more vintage furniture.  I’ve given away paint, my collection of old scrap wood and a part of my heart had to close too.  My mirrors, those I’m still holding onto (not sure why) and my giant box of vintage drawer handles and knobs, that’s going to take some time to sort through and part with.  I’ve bonded with many aspects of furniture restoration, seeing something so old, junky, thrown out, forgotten –  but if I spend some time, with a gentle touch, an artistic eye, I’ve had the privilege of bringing these pieces back to life.  Why stop now?  Two shops, a steady cash flow, more opportunities just over the horizon, but the truth is, I’ve out grown the task all together.  I’m a writer now and painting furniture is not going to get me to my dreams.

The Emotional Dam of Intermittent Fasting - Joy

As so many of you out there, I feel everything.  I feel so many sensations running through my body, my heart, my mind that some days I have to do “inventory” to understand what’s going on.  Since fasting, feeling has turned into healing.  Because I’m not filling my body with food, my feelings are not suppressed or “stuffed.”  The break from food allows my spirit, which is much stronger and healthier than my body, to become more present then my flesh and through the light of God, I can not only balance out, but rise to a higher degree of love and healing.  Sounds pretty new-age-ish, but it’s just a beautiful thing that comes with fasting. 

When I was a teenager and into my early twenties, this “gift” of feeling everything could be depilating.  After I was sexually abused, something vulnerable in me awoke and it seemed to attract dysfunctional men.  I couldn’t catch a break.  Either I didn’t believe I was worth more or the men I was attracting into my life had some sort of ability to read I was weak.  I didn’t have the self-esteem or strength to defend myself.  I started having panic attacks, painful periods of time when my heart couldn’t carry my hurt.  Rapid heartbeats, inability to breath, panting, crying, fainting – all in an attempt to maintain and hold myself together as my world was falling apart.  My mom was the only one who could pull me out of such experiences.  Her understanding, soft tone, encouragement, physical touch – it all helped me come back.  I had my last panic attack at the age of 26.  Thankfully, marrying my sweetheart was a strong influence of love and my body didn’t respond to stress anymore in the form of panic attacks.

I know so many girls and women have and have had panic attacks.  1 out of 3 of us have been sexually abused.  I want to find you, to find others and not just heal, but shine.

What was I feeling before I started intermittent fasting?  After all, I’d been married for over 17 years, had six children and lived a dream life. Yes, life was good, better than good and with all the love surrounding me, I’d worked through so many of my issues and feelings, but I still carried shame and regret.  With all that was on my plate, I couldn’t handle these emotions anymore.  Why was I still hiding from hurt?  Negativity?  Procrastination?  Unmet expectations?  I was suffocating.  Either they had to go, or I was going to break from the weight of it all.

While fasting, I have major breakthroughs specific to my emotional challenges, I mean life-changing ideas and experiences that placed me on a path to higher love and purpose.  Just a few weeks ago, I had an experience were I learned the amazing power of repentance.  I’ve known about repentance my entire life, but rarely acted on it.  The bigger truth of asking God every day to be forgiven of my sins has helped with me be more sympathetic to others, learn from my own mistakes and recognize the addictions I still have to break in my life.  Repentance lifts my emotional load and frees me from negativity.  Still, I’m stubborn.  Even with all I’m learning, I’ll forget or don’t make this task a priority some days.  The flesh is so stubborn. 

During my first 30-day fast (you can read about this experience in my memoir (Starving Girl), I had an experience one night.  I was driving one of my son’s home from basketball practice and I stopped to get something to eat.  I hadn’t broken my fast yet, so I had a prayer in the car, then went into Pei Wei for some lettuce wraps and edamame.  Once back in the car, I reached for the package of edamame.  I put that salty warm soybean pod in my mouth, bit it open and the flavor of the soybean electrified my palate.  Food is delicious, but after an 18 hour fast, food is explosive.  Those first few bites meant everything.  They provided the nourishment I needed and I was not only delighted, but so very grateful.  So very thankful was I, so amazing was the taste, with my sweet son in the back seat sharing all the fun things about his day, my car that worked every time I start it up, the love from my family, my clarity of thought, when I heard in my mind “Well, look at you.  You’re doing it.”   (This happens a lot to me.  The Spirit continues to give me so much encouragement.)

I was.  I was doing it.  Fasting was helping me tackle so many of my emotions, I was present, my health was improving, plus I was losing weight.  My heart almost burst, and suddenly, I thought of those awful panic attacks.  All those years ago when all hope seemed lost, how I would rather die than endure any more pain, how it was so difficult to breathe I would pass out. 

But, no, at this moment, breaking my fast with the wonderful food, this wasn’t a panic attack.  Yes, my heart beat was increasing, yes I felt like I might cry, yes, I was overcome, but what I was experiencing was my first a joy attack.

So powerful was my joy.  I imagined a line on one end of the spectrum a panic attack and on the polar opposite end, a joy attack.  Oh, this was big. I needed my mom.  This was too much emotion.  I started deep breathing.  I couldn’t have a “joy attack.”  I was driving.  I couldn’t fall apart because I was “so happy.”  As wonderful as it was, I had to control this or my eyes would fill and become blurred with tears.  In my mind, I started talking to my mom.  I envisioned her holding me, but my love for her made my “joy attack” even stronger.  I had to block the image of my mom or at that moment, her love would overcome me. 

“Breath deep,” I said to myself.  “Everything’s fine.” 

If it hadn’t been so overwhelming, it would have been funny.  I mean really, who has a “joy attack” when eating edamame.  But, seriously, a clean physical palate means emotional and spiritual experiences finally have room in my life to manifest.

I did get a hold of my mom and she told me, “Tell your joy it can come in smaller doses or we can get together and you can invite it back while we are holding each other.”  My mom, she’s so awesome.  She validates everything in my life.  To her, I’m never weird.

Joy is an emotion I feel more and more. Swimming with ducks in Sedona 2016

If you have panic attacks, please know you can breathe and heal and overcome, but you have to feel.  You have to be validated by yourself.  Don’t be afraid.  It takes time and work.  Believe, hope, remember your worth and pray.  Let your spirit (also known as your soul) shine, God is there.  He will heal you.  I know He can and will.

Image found here.

Finally Published - Starving Girl!

The counselor has been so supportive while I’ve been fasting and writing about my experience.  Where would I be without him?

When we were in Sedona in August, we spent some time writing down our goals.  I love doing this with him.   

“When are you going to publish your book?” he asked.

Oh, yeah, that little old thing!

Here I am in Sedona thrifting at Goodwill.

I wrote Starving Girl in 30 days and spent months editing it. 

There was a time, around the 5-month mark when I put the darn thing away.  I didn’t want anything to do with it.  Writing a memoir was hard, emotional, VULNERABLE!  I'd much rather be spending time with this little guy.

Crazy dog!

I loved fasting and I wrote about the ups and downs, the challenges and benefits, how I felt and managed 16-hours a day without food, but my experience was about so much more than fasting.  My mind was so clear and focused and writing became a necessary function.  Not only did writing helped the hours pass when I was hungry, but it allowed me to binge on my ideas.  These were personal ideas I’d never shared with anybody.  Fasting was not about food or dieting, but how my negative body image and food addiction hurt me.  I started asking questions about women and how we compare ourselves to all the perfect photo-shopped images the media presents to us.  Once I started down that path, I realized how sexual abuse played a huge role in my weight gain and how I had been running away from shame.  I learned how overeating affected my mood and my relationships.  Intermittent fasting was about hunger management and thinking of those who went without.  It was about learning to be grateful and living in the present, not the past or future.  My mind opened up in ways I’ve never experienced.  As I studied more about intermittent fasting, I realized this was not by mistake.  Increased brain function is one of the many benefits of fasting.

Leading scientists now believe that intermittent fasting is one of the key strategies for maximizing brain function. Click here to learn more.

According to neuroscientists, Fasting does good things for the brain, and this is evident by all of the beneficial neurochemical changes that happen in the brain when we fast. It also improves cognitive function, increases neurotrophic factors, increases stress resistance, and reduces inflammation.

Fasting is a challenge to your brain, and your brain responds to that challenge by adapting stress response pathways which help your brain cope with stress and risk for disease. The same changes that occur in the brain during fasting mimic the changes that occur with regular exercise. They both increase the production of protein in the brain (neurotrophic factors), which in turn promotes the growth of neurons, the connection between neurons, and the strength of synapses.  Click here to read more.

So, when I was writing about intermittent fasting and I had a clarity of mind like never before in which my thoughts were going a million miles a minute and I could articulate them in meaningful ways, this was not by mistake.  This was a major benefit of fasting.  I was remembering things, writing specific details, I didn’t get headaches like I had before intermittent fasting, I was remembering to pray every day, I could focus and meditate, research and brainstorm, I could go hours without the interruption of meals and snacks, I was focused and my writing became a channel of deep thought and healing. 

I came across this quote, and it affected me deeply. 

I could be vulnerable.  I could do it!   I was starving for more than food, I was starving to live my purpose.  I was starving to love, learn, heal, help, serve, give, dream and more.

I’ve read and edited Starving Girl countless times, but once the counselor and I set that goal to publish the book on my birthday September 24, I became determined to get the job done.  I wasn’t going to edit Starving Girl forever, like I’d been doing with my other books I’d written.  I was going to take that leap of faith, the plunge, put myself out there and whatever happened, I would be alright.  It was going to be finished by my birthday, and that was that. 

I met with my editor the evening of my birthday and she said we were close, but she had a few more suggestions.  I came home and worked through the night, into the next day and for the next week like crazy.  Everything was on hold.  The kids helped out more and encouraged me in the kindest ways.  My friends helped with the baby.  The counselor and I gave up date night, I didn’t exercise for the entire week, I don’t even know if I looked up, but a week later, it was ready.  One more final professional edit for typo’s, a new cover was finished and BAM! it was up. 

I’ve never been more determined.  By far, it's the best thing I’ve ever written.

If I wouldn’t have set that goal with my darling, I’m not sure if I would have ever published it.  Thank you to my honey for encouraging me.

Here we are in Telluride last week.  I love this man!

Book trailers are so much fun to make.  Here's mine.

 Starving Girl is available on Amazon and Kindle.  I’m working on the audio book as well. 

Thank you for all your support.  

Making History at the first ever Prolife Women's Conference

Why did I attend the first ever prolife women’s conference in Dallas, TX this last weekend? 

(Abby Johson flashes a selfie!  We love her.)

My love for my baby(ies) and for all babies carried me there. My love for those who have suffered sexual abuse brought me there. For anyone who’s been broken, fallen, felt worthless or without hope, I went for you.  At times, these feelings have governed my world, so in that respect, I went for me.

I met so many amazing people, people from all over the country who support a better world.  

(Serrin M. Foster, President of Feminists for Life, shared so many things about abortion I'd never even considered.)

I met my hero’s, not celebrities or singers from today’s pop culture, but those who whole-heartedly believe women deserve better than abortion.  I met women who regret their abortions and are looking not only to heal, but to heal others, adoption advocates, birth mothers, those who have been adopted, abortion survivors, rape survivors, those born out of rape, single moms, secular women who support humanity, gay women, politicians on both sides of the aisle, volunteers, mothers, grandmothers, daughters, abortion workers who have seen terrible injustices on women and children and who are standing up and speaking out, doctors, lawyers, civil right leaders, clergy, atheists all in support of nonviolence, choices and the very best for women. 

A woman with gray hair in a modest dress had a pin secured onto her sweater.  She passed by me and when I read the words she boldly wore on her lapel, I had to speak to her.  I regret my abortion, it said and I thought I might cry.  In my eyes, she was a woman whose conviction was born out of pain and I immediately loved her.  She was there representing her unborn child and my respect for her felt like a trophy.  21% of pregnancies end in abortion. 

I talked with a woman about her adoption that had happened 16 years earlier.  Her baby, a son, was placed with a loving family and had recently connected with her.  As she spoke, I could see her core was made up of pain, courage, love and understanding.  What a mighty force a birth mother is and I could think of no more selfless act.  Small wrinkle lines had made their way around her eyes.  To me, they represented the time she’d spent in deep thought, moments of heartache, wonder and than redemption.  Half her heart was her son and she would spend her life praying he was happy and loved.  On the contrary, abortion had never been an option for her.  Thru adoption, she could give her son life and pure unconditional love.  Although this woman felt small, I saw her as a woman of great bravery; a hero with light shining from her eyes and words.  Adoption made this fragile woman unbreakable.

A beautiful woman from New Mexico opened up to me about her older brother, a boy her mom had aborted almost 40 years earlier.  Thru tears, she spoke of her love for him, how she feels him near and knows his name.  There is a movement of others just like her; family members looking to heal from the loss of a sibling.  Abortion is a secret that can only heal through truth.  The reality this boy existed, that he had a purpose on earth and loved his family still holds true.  Thru gentle whispers and tender relationships, he still has a voice.  Because of God, his mother and sister can have peace and know someday, they will see him again.

I met a woman who’d volunteered for over thirty years at a pregnancy center.  Before, I may not have noticed such a quiet, unassuming force of nature.  It’s not easy to put yourself out there, especially in this sort of controversial arena.  I wondered how many lives she’d impacted, how many woman and children she saved.  Why would a person take so much time from his or her life to reach out to pregnant woman?  “Love,” she said.  “Because of love.” 

I met Abby Johnson, a former director from Planned Parenthood who for 8 years, thought she was doing the best thing for woman, but after seeing an ultrasound guided abortion learned the horrors of abortion.  She left the industry and has been sharing her story ever since – that abortion is a product Planned Parenthood sells and they make millions upon millions of dollars from, that abortion clinics are strategically placed in the poorest minority communities, that more black babies are aborted every year then born, that abortion patients are most often coerced by abusive boyfriends and even Planned Parenthood staff into having abortions, that the abortion industry is built on lies, violence and corruption.  Abortion is population control and eugenics.  If you can convince an entire population of women to destroy their offspring, you don't have to start a war.  You don't need to build up an army because the women will silently and many on their own dime, pay for their unborn to be destroyed.  If politicians can convince women abortion is an empowering choice, then money wins, a sick social agenda wins and women lose.  

A met a bad-a*#, tattoo-covered, pink-haired, bi-sexual woman who rocks.  She is an in your face, out-spoken New Yorker who doesn’t care what you think of her.  She stands for all injustice on woman and breaking away from prolife stereotypes, will say through secular words, historical studies and philosophical argument that abortion hurts woman.  She won’t say God and faith.  She’s not a mother.  She doesn’t read the Bible, but instead quotes deep thinkers, artists and scholars who have something to say about woman’s liberation.  It’s fascinating and the name of her organization is Feminists For Life.  You have been warned!!

A pregnant wonder woman.  I love it.

A brave woman opened up to me about her two abortions and how through dreams, she sees her little children playing on a swing underneath a giant tree.  They are safe and in the care of Jesus Christ.  When she cried, her tears sprang out like droplets of hope and I cried with her.  For those who have had an abortion or multiple abortions, do not for a minute think you are not loved.  You are so loved.  I love you.  Pray.  Talk with God.  God’s got this.  There is nothing we can do that He doesn’t already know about and have covered.  If you haven’t prayed in a while, take a moment alone and open your mind to a conversation about what you’ve been through.  In every abortion, there are two victims.  You deserve healing too.  You are beautiful.   

I was impacted by woman after woman and wished I could ask everyone in attendance their story and why they made the journey.  Most, like me, had traveled across the country at their own expense to show their support to a cause bursting at the seams.  We are done with the abortion narrative, that a woman’s choice is the end of the discussion.  Woman deserve better than abortion.  A pregnant woman should be loved and protected.  Our societal norms regarding unplanned pregnancy are not prowoman.  Violence has never been embraced by the feminist movement until abortion.  Men have a huge part in this change.  Respect for womanhood, her body and the unborn child must become a man’s issue or we will never change. 

It’s been 42 years since abortion became legal.  56 million babies later, what does the research show?  The truth is not easy to find, but these are the questions we need to ask.  Is abortion a woman's right, or a wrong inflicted on women? Is it a mark of liberation, or a sign that women are not yet free?  Women are speaking out on abortion, not for political reasons but out of concern for women’s emotional, physical, mental and spiritual health.  Abortion is not political, but at the heartstrings of every woman who has experienced it and every child who has lost his or her life.  My thesis is I believe more abortions than we realize are born out of the injustice of sexual abuse, how it makes a girl feel like trash and how 1 out of 3 girls will suffer sexual abuse.  It will take years, even a lifetime to heal.  One of the greatest tools for manipulative unjust men is abortion.  If he can convince a woman she is worthless, so will she view her baby.    

So, why was I at the prolife women's conference?  If we could sit down, I’d tell you through tear-stained eyes, but most importantly I was there because I have a one-year old son named Canyon Samuel Lofgreen who came at a difficult time in my life.  This unplanned life event was born out of debilitating morning sickness, doubt, uncertainty, emotional turmoil, physical exhaustion and . . . faith.  Faith was what I held onto when my world felt out of control and in return for my small 9-month sacrifice I received a baby.  

A baby!!  

When everything else fell away and I could see through the eyes of love, I knew my baby was worth it.  His presence alone is enough, but the physical warmth of his body next to mine makes every cell of my body sing.  In finding him, I lost myself and away went all the rationality that having a baby would be too difficult.  I’m stronger than I knew and my complaining only made me weak.  When in frustration I voiced out I wasn’t strong enough to care for another baby, something said back to me “Become stronger,” and I knew it was the voice of God.  I had that choice, to be stronger than the negativity, the societal pressure and uncertainty.  I want my son to know I stand for him and I want woman to know people like my son deserve a chance, that we don’t want to just wipe out such charisma and beauty before they even have a chance.  How many babies just like Canyon are aborted before their mother gets to know how amazing they are.   

In the words of Abby Johnson, “We believe that abortion strips women of their dignity. We believe that motherhood is empowering. We believe that not conforming and giving into societal pressures when it comes to femininity is empowering. We believe that this justice applies to every single human being on this earth. We believe in redefining the pro-life movement to include everyone, every age, race, gender, religion and every job.”

Because of the people I met, I know I’m not alone.  

People who support life have the winning ticket.  

(A supporter for Democrats for Life.)

WE chose life over death.  

We chose a baby over shame.  

We chose woman over corruption.  We chose to give our time, money and prayers to pregnancy centers and adoption agencies instead of Planned Parenthood.  

I’m so thankful for Abby Johnson had the tenacity and vision (and can survive off of so little sleep) that should could put the first ever Prolife Women’s conference on the map.  I believe we made history and what an honor it was to be there.  For my son, for my children, out of my love for others I will do my part, even for the one—especially for the one. 


If you do not agree with me, that's alright.  I appreciate your willlingness to read about my experience.  I love all women and feel the political divide projected on us by the media and politicians is harmful.  I love you.

I’m working on a book called WHAT HAS YOUR SISTER DONE? and have extended the deadline for you to submit your story.

WHAT HAS YOUR SISTER DONE? is a collection of stories about girls who faced an unplanned pregnancy and what they decided to do about it. Some may have kept the baby while others may have placed their baby up for adoption or terminated their pregnancy through abortion. Because many aspects of unplanned pregnancy aren’t talked about, I’m hoping these stories will open the door and help someone in the same situation.

If you want to help, here’s what you can do:

Write your story. This can be done the same way you would write a journal or diary entry. Write about how you felt and how your story progressed. Share what ever you feel. There is no judgment here. Remember, your story may be just what someone else needs to read.

Stories can be submitted anonymously or you can request names be changed. You can email stories to mydeartrash@gmail.com. Please submit your story as soon as possible. By submitting your story, I reserve the right to have your story in WHAT HAS YOUR SISTER DONE?

Also, if you know someone who has had an unplanned pregnancy, please pass this information on to them. Feel free to contact me is you have any questions. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.