Blog #Survivor

Darlene Van Dyke

Christian Music Recording Artist and Founder of Redemption Cove

Darlene's testimony was shared on the VictoryEmbraced: Truth, Talk & Testimonies YouTube channel. Please consider liking, sharing, and subscribing. Thank you!  

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7 NIV)

The Lord is your protector; The Lord is your shade on your right hand. The sun will not beat down on you by day, Nor the moon by night. The Lord will protect you from all evil; He will keep your soul. The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in From this time and forever. (Psalm 121:5-8 NASB)     

“we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing;  persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. (2 Corinthians 4:8-10 NASB)

These are the questions that I asked Darlene during her interview on the VictoryEmbraced: Truth, Talk & Testimonies YouTube channel, and what she shared.  

Darlene, can you explain how you use your property in Southampton, Pennsylvania, for a ministry called Redemption Cove? 

Well, we have always dedicated the property of Cherry Lane to the Lord. I had the privilege of stewarding this place for about 28 years, and the initial ministry that started there was an annual caroling party—we would go into the streets at Christmas time and sing about the birth of Christ. I had done that as a small child with my parents in a small town in Ohio called Steubenville, and it just rested in my heart all of my childhood and into my adult life, and then when I had my first child, I wanted her to have those memories, but we live in Pennsylvania in a suburb of Philadelphia. I didn’t know of anybody who was going caroling, so we thought we would just go ourselves, and that small little desire in my heart grew into 25 years of an annual caroling event there at the property and the streets, and we shared about the birth of Christ. It’s interesting because of the neighbors’ reactions—we received wonderful reactions and some not-so-good or sad reactions...or unfortunate reactions. I say unfortunate or sad because I believe people who don’t know Jesus are missing out on a lot. So, we began using the property at Cherry Lane in Southampton, Pennsylvania, and then all kinds of ministries emerged from that place because we have always dedicated it to the Lord. There was a time when my stepson, whom I consider my son, and I had this vision of taking this little plot of land and turning it into an outdoor worship venue, so in three days, the Lord facilitated all the resources. Ryan and I built that space using mostly discarded items, and I prayed and said, Lord, what do you want to call this place? The name Redemption Cove came to mind because we have experienced redemption, being discarded, hurt, and being abused many times. The Lord is a Savior—He saves us. So many things in Redemption Cove were “trash finds,” if you will, and they all had a significant spiritual attachment, like when Ryan and I were building the wall out of old barn wood pieces from a friend’s historic farmhouse that her husband was discarding—I said, oh, I think I can use those.” Ryan was building the walls, and we came to a spot where I said to him that it would be so cool to have a door right here, and he agreed. I went to pick my daughter up from school that day, and wouldn’t you know, there was something in the trash. It’s just interesting because everything that happened was in the Lord’s timing. There’s granite flooring there that was donated, and there’s an old metal globe from the ‘70s that was placed in there, as you know, for God so loved the world—there’s a clock hanging, and everything there was significantly placed. As you know, time is short—Jesus is coming—we need to be redeemed, so this was the thought behind Redemption Cove. 

Can you share what happened in May 2023 on the Pennsylvania Turnpike I-95?

I moved to Pennsylvania when I was 20 years old, and for about 40 years I have driven back and forth from Ohio, where my parents live, to Philadelphia and never had an issue, even in all kinds of weather—rain, sleet, snowstorms. Last May, around 11 a.m., it was a beautiful sunny morning. I set my cruise control at 65; the speed limit was 70. I just wanted to enjoy my trip and listen to music, and suddenly, I heard a loud explosion sound in the rear of the SUV. I thought that maybe a tire blew out, and then instantly, I couldn’t see anything in my rearview mirror. I didn’t know what happened or why my vehicle was being catapulted–It felt like a huge hand was pushing me violently with great strength to the cement median. Then, I remember feeling my vehicle begin to lift and begin turning over, and as I saw the median, I said to Jesus, I wonder if I’m going to die. And immediately after I said that everything went blank. I don’t remember the impact—I don’t remember anything. The next event that I have in my memory is that I heard voices murmuring, and I heard things before I could see them because I was coming out of an unconscious state. I then opened my eyes, and I couldn’t quite figure out where I was. I kept looking and looking, and I saw glass and things that looked familiar, but yet they didn’t, and I came to realize I was hanging upside down from my seat belt. I didn’t recognize things because they were upside down. I then thought–Wow, the seatbelt is holding me, and then I prayed and said, Lord, please let the seatbelt unclick. I think I need to get out of here. Please don’t let me be stuck in here. I checked my arms to see if they were okay because I thought I could crawl out. I opened my eyes and saw that the window on the driver’s side was shattered, but all the metal was bent down and smashed, so I realized there was no way I could get out that way. But the passenger’s side was completely missing, and there was a big opening. I thought I could climb over there, so I didn’t know what had happened. I didn’t realize that a vehicle had struck me. I wondered if the car was on fire or if it was going to explode. My first feeling was that I needed to get out of here. Then I looked around, and I thought, well, I’m just going to crawl out, and I heard a voice say, Are you okay? And this murmuring turned into a man’s voice, and I saw him tuck his head down and look into the vehicle, and I said, well, I’m conscience, and I unclicked the seat belt, and I just crawled onto the glass and the debris, and I began to army crawl, and then I realized I had no strength in my body, and I and I couldn’t crawl. I was just weak and limp, and he said, Can I help you? And I stretched my hand as far as I could to the window, and I said, Would you please pull me out? He took his hand, and he did one jerk and got me at least out of the vehicle. I rolled over on my back on the turnpike, and I could see now that the vehicle was upside down and totaled, and a woman appeared next to him—again, I’m still not sure what happened—and she asked, Can I help you? I’m a nurse, and I said to her, Would you find my cell phone, please? and she found my phone underneath the tire of another vehicle that was behind my vehicle, and I was thinking, maybe he stopped to help me, and here it was the gentleman who had hit me. The lady found my cell phone under the tire of his car. The ambulance came, the policeman, and all details of just normal rescue behavior. Interestingly enough, the EMT assistant was female, and she said, Honey, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to cut off your clothes. I think she said that because I was wearing my favorite comfy outfit. She put the neck brace on me, and she cut off my clothes, apologizing, and then in the ambulance, I said, look, I need to make a couple of phone calls. I was headed to an appointment for two different meetings, and she said, Well, I think your ankle is broken. She said I can give you something for that, and I said, if you give me something, I won’t be able to talk to you, and she said, So, she said, I think you probably are going to need something, especially when you get to the trauma unit, so she gave me something for pain, and I’m so grateful that she did because once I reached the trauma unit, they did all kinds of testing. 

You know, I don’t know how many doctors came and pressed on my body in certain places, and I couldn’t open my eyes. I don’t know why that was. I just had no strength, I had no energy, and it was almost as if I wasn’t even in my body I couldn’t move, but I could hear and they would tell me what they were going to do to me to check me and I a woman’s voice to my left but she was different she was not talking like a doctor and I forced my eyes to peep open a little bit and it was an African-American woman and she had a blue uniform on and I thought she was a nurse and so I said to her where am I? And she said, Holy Spirit Hospital and I said, oh well that’s a good place to be because He’s here and she replied–YES, HE IS and immediately I got a good response now in the world normally when I talk to people or strangers sometimes our conversation will I’ll say something about the Lord or God or I’ll make a comment as if everybody knows him and those who are usually pick up on that and we have a great conversation so when I said He is here and she said, YES, HE IS–and immediately in my spirit there was a quickening and an aliveness came inside like I was jumping inside but my body couldn’t move and she started to pray and quote scripture–all things work together for good to those who love God and I started quoting scripture and she started saying it with me and she and I together were quoting the scriptures that I would start and then she would continue with it with me and then I’m telling you there was such power in that and we were in the presence of Jesus because He is the Word and if two of you agree on earth concerning anything that they ask, it will be done for them by My Father in heaven–that’s His promise so they took me to do a CT scan they brought me back there was all kinds of scurrying activity and somehow I remember that this woman and I were alone again and she was on my right side now and she said, I’m going to tell you something she said, God’s not done with you yet now she has no idea who I am at least I don’t think she does if you would feel human you know an angel I don’t know he said I’m going to tell you something she said, God is not done with you yet she said you are going to make it out of here she says many people don’t make it out of this unit but you’re going to make it out and started quoting Jeremiah 29:11, and I begin to say it with her, and she just spoke the Word over me, and she prayed over me again, and then I don’t really remember too much of what happened after that, and then I was in a recovered room later with a splint on my leg from my toe up to my knee because I had a mangled ankle. I was banged up from head to toe, I had to bump on my head, a torn retina, surgery on my eye, three broken bones and a torn muscle, and of course, ligaments that were sprained, cuts, and there were a lot of blood loss, I was tired and weak and woke up in recovery with a cast on my leg and people coming in to check on me and I never saw that nurse in that room again I never saw her from that last time that she prayed over me she’s not there the rest of the time. I think it’s so awesome how the Lord at that moment sent somebody to me and prayed over me in a trauma unit in a hospital way out in Camp Hill, Pennsylvania–in a place that I never imagined I would ever be, but the Lord was with me through all of that and then there are more stories beyond that once I left the hospital that is quite interesting.

May you share some of the stories you shared with me after you left the hospital?

The hospital surprised me by discharging me after I had a horrible accident, despite being nowhere near my home and my vehicle being totaled. Maybe they didn’t have room, but they arranged for me to stay at the hotel near the hospital and sent an Uber driver to bring me.

I waited in the hospital lobby in a wheelchair with a wonderful assistant. He was a former military personnel, and we talked about my son-in-law, Jared, who’s a master sergeant in the Marine Corps. We talked about the military until the Uber driver arrived since my daughter, Rikki Lyn, and her husband, Jared, were stationed in Okinawa, Japan.

When the Uber driver pulled up, you could hear him screaming and yelling in his vehicle. I’ve used Uber before and usually, they’re calm and I thought to myself–what’s up with this guy? The hospital assistant that was helping me was wondering the same thing. When he wheeled me to the car, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the license plate with a couple of letters and the numbers six, six, six–It was so funny! The hospital assistant looked inside the car as the driver continued to yell and complain to someone on the phone then, out of concern he asked… “Are you able to take her and then are you able to help her because she can’t walk?” “You’re going to have to carry her bags into the hotel and go over and above what an Uber driver would normally do.” The Uber driver looked back at me and said he would do it. I could tell that the gentleman from the hospital was very leery of putting me in the vehicle.

I got into the Uber, still looking like a mess with a pair of crutches, blood on my face, and glass in my hair. Thank goodness, I had a pair of work clothes in a bag in my SUV I could wear because, at the accident scene, my original outfit had to be cut. As I sat in the backseat with my crutches across my lap in the condition that I was in, I thought… “This guy was clearly frustrated about something and I wanted to calm him down a little because he’s driving me and I was just in a horrific accident, so I said to him… “I understand I’m not your normal Uber passenger. I was in a terrible accident today and I need to get to the hotel so I could rest. I appreciate that you’re taking me and helping me–I almost could have died today, and he responded… “I wish I could die today”. And right then and there, I thought this could not be by chance–This was a divine appointment, so I continued to say to him… “I’m sorry that you’re having a bad day, but I know someone who has a purpose and a plan for your life and He loves you”. He looked in his rearview mirror to look at me and I said… “His name is Jesus.” And he responded… “Don’t give me that religious stuff. I’ve already been through that whole thing.” And I said… “Well, that’s probably the problem. If you’ve been through “religious stuff” then you don’t know Jesus. Jesus loves you and He wants your life to be abundant and fulfilling–He loves us in whatever state we are in and he calmed down and listened to what I was sharing and here I am with glass in my hair, blood on my face, clothes that were ripped up, and crutches and telling him Jesus loves him. 

When we got to the hotel, his entire attitude had changed. He pulled up to the front, got out of his vehicle, and carried my bags in for me as I moved inch by inch like a snail toward the hotel lobby because I couldn’t walk well, I was hungry, lost blood, and should have remained in the hospital–I still don’t understand why they released me, but maybe he was the reason. I desperately needed to get to this hotel so I could rest. 

As I was in the lobby, he stood beside me, almost like a soldier or guard. He stayed with me and asked them if they could take care of me from here on out and the hotel staff promised they would. I said… “You know what, I’m going to be praying for you. I appreciate what you’ve done for me today.” As I looked at him, I noticed that even his countenance had changed. I asked what his name was and he said… “My name is Jacob.” I thanked the Lord for sending me Jacob as he walked back to his vehicle, and I can only hope and pray that Jacob knows Jesus today.

After Jacob left, I made my way up to the hotel’s check-in counter, and I told the woman, I’m the patient coming over from the hospital, and I need my room, and she said... “Okay, you’re on the third floor,” I asked her where the elevator was, and she said they didn’t have one. I told her I couldn’t walk, and I was trying to get by on the crutches, and she said… “Oh, my goodness, that’s right, we’re going to have to find a room for you on the first floor.” In the meantime, she got someone to carry my bags. This young man came over, and he was in a hurry. It was a convention weekend at the hotel. He grabbed my bags, asked what room I would be in, and started to take off. I had to tell him I couldn’t follow him at that pace. He said... “That’s all right. I’ll get your stuff in your room.” They found one empty room on the first floor, and he took off, and I started hobbling towards him. Suddenly, I felt like I was going to pass out, so I made my way to the wall in the lobby, and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall with my crutches across my lap, glass in my hair, blood on my face, and my cut-off pants. I’m leaning against the wall, and I’m weak, tired, and hungry, and I cannot help myself. 

Now, that is an unusual place for Darlene Van Dyke to be because I’ve never been helpless like this before, and here I am in a strange town in the middle of the state. I leaned against the wall, waiting for the Lord’s next move. And I said… “Lord, I can’t do any more than what I’m doing.” Just then, a man wearing a lanyard walked up to me, looked at me for a split second, and asked if I was okay. I told him I wasn’t and was in a car accident. He continued by saying… “Well, I hope you’ll be okay,” and he went into his room and shut the door. Right then and there, the Lord reminded me of the story of the Good Samaritan. How many times do we come across people that need help and we pass them by? Sadly, our world has desensitized care and compassion. Scripture says in the last days that evil will get worse and worse and that men’s hearts will grow cold. I had an up close and personal experience about the coldness of our hearts–a coldness towards those who need care. I believe that all those times we turn away from helping somebody; it’s creating a barrier between us and what God has designed us to do. It’s a daily thing. So many people say that they wish they could have a ministry. We do—all of us are ministers in the Kingdom. It’s the ministry of compassion and care. For anyone that has a need that and we walk away, the Bible says it’s a sin—to know to do good and to do it not to Him is sin. We all have a ministry—a ministry of compassion and care. 

When the man who had my bags returned, he noticed me sitting on the floor, so he went to find a wheelchair. Next, I instructed him how to assist me into the wheelchair, and he then pushed me into my room. He permitted me to keep the wheelchair so that I could move around. Before he left, I told him how much I appreciated his help, and I asked him his name, and he told me it was Isaac. Jacob and Isaac were there, assisting me that day.

Finally, I’m in the room and can breathe a sigh of relief. I rolled to the bed using my wheelchair. Thankfully, my arms weren’t broken. I had cuts on my arms and fingers, but I could get to the side of the bed so I could lie down. I got in an upright position and laid on the mattress, and here the bed was broken—probably the reason it was the only open double-bed room on the first floor. The mattress slid off the base, and I slid down to the middle aisle of the floor between the two beds. I thought it was too funny, and there had to be a hidden camera somewhere. I somehow stopped myself from sliding off the mattress, and I made my way back to the wheelchair, wheeled myself to the other bed, and said... “Lord, let this one be okay.” I laid across it, and it was okay, so I was finally in a position where I could rest. There I was, with the Lord being my keeper.

In the King James version, Psalm 121 says that the Lord is my keeper. I used to be a soccer coach at my home church for a few years, and I'm familiar with the word keeper in an athletic sense. Well, what does a keeper do for a soccer team? He’s the goalie, and the keeper’s job is to stop the opponent from scoring. The Lord is our keeper—He protects us from the enemy, Satan, scoring in our lives and preventing us from getting ahead of where we should be. If we allow Jesus to be our keeper to stop the enemy assaults, attacks, and fiery darts from scoring—He is our keeper, and on this particular day through the horrific events, He was my keeper. He sent me everything I needed when I needed it so perfectly. Now, I’m still injured, in pain, and suffering, but the story’s not over yet because I need to get home. 

I want to touch on something for those who may watch this broadcast and perhaps have not been so fortunate and maybe lost a loved one in an accident or maybe have lost anybody for any reason and are still suffering or you’re still in pain. What do we do with that? Where is this keeper? For example, Pastor Rick Warren had a son commit suicide; Steven Curtis Chapman’s older son ran over their little daughter in the driveway, and she did not survive; a very dear pastor friend of mine, Evangelist Ricky Riggs, was a guest evangelist at a church and backed out of a parking lot in the same way; and Toby Mac lost his eldest son to addiction. 

There are many tragedies, and unfortunately, those who don’t have a full understanding of how much God loves us—the puzzle doesn’t fit—the pieces don’t fit. How can God be a keeper and yet we suffer? Scripture says the earth is a cursed place from the fall of man in the garden, and we’re living in that—it’s not heaven, and we’re only passing through. It will not be perfect all of the time. There’s going to be pain and suffering. Jesus even had pain and suffering. God promises we will never be alone—we will never have to go through things alone. We’re not abandoned by our Creator, who loves us, and despite the enemies’ assaults, the Lord still initiates the plan that He has for our lives if we align our will with His so it can happen. 

A personal example is my mother, who was a Christian since she was a teenager. She loved Jesus. When she was in her seventies, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and I happened to be with her the day that the diagnosis was given, which again was a miracle because I lived 360 miles away from her, and I happened to be visiting on the day she had a doctor appointment for a follow-up to a mammogram. I was able to be there for her, hug her, and tell her it was going to be okay. The Lord always works out what we need at the very moment we need it—you can’t plan this stuff, but God does. The Lord sees the end from the beginning and knows the complete picture. Jesus knows where we are and what we need. 

Where are you in your healing process from the accident? 

The physical healing is still happening for me, and the Lord is also healing other things. Five specialists have worked on me, and I have had therapists. One therapist that was working on my ankle was a Christian. We got to talk about the Lord and shared scriptures while other therapists were around listening. Many people don’t tune into anything Christian until they overhear a conversation about the Lord, and at that point, they can respond towards the Lord or continue to stay how they are, but He’s always faithful.

He sets at liberty them that are bruised from Luke 4:18. We are the walking wounded. He gives us a way to live in freedom, even though we have a wound. We can still walk in our purpose and abundance, knowing that the Lord loves us and He's with us.

Redemption Cove in Southampton, Pennsylvania

Photos of Darlene's Car from the Accident on the  Pennsylvania Turnpike/Interstate 95

Melissa Ohden

Founder & Director of The Abortion Survivors Network, Author & Speaker

"But none of these things move me; nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God." (Acts 20:24)

Abortion is a decision that has a detrimental effect on many across generations. In August of 1977, my biological mother entered St. Luke’s Hospital in Sioux City, Iowa, to undergo a saline infusion abortion. Little did she know that this one decision, and this one moment in time—would have a far-reaching effect on so many peoples’ lives.

A saline infusion abortion involves the injection of a toxic salt solution into the amniotic fluid surrounding the pre-born child in the womb. The salt solution intends to scald the child to die from the outside in. Suppose you ever look up ‘saline infusion for abortion’ or read about children like me who are aborted by saline infusion. In that case, you will find that we are called the “red-skinned” or “candy-apple” babies because it turns the child’s skin red as it burns it, peels it, and moves internally into the body to burn up the organs.

After the toxic salt solution was delivered into the amniotic fluid that surrounded me, I was bathed in the poisonous salt solution for approximately five days. Truly, this solution should have burned me to death while I was in my biological mother’s womb, and she should have given birth to a dead child. Instead, on the fifth day of the abortion procedure, labor was successfully induced, and she gave birth to a live child—me! 

Over the years, I have been told that it was initially known that I had been unsuccessfully aborted. It has been said that after I was delivered spontaneously at the hospital, I was believed to be dead. I was even left for dead and placed along the bedside table. Nevertheless, by the grace of God, a nurse was tending to my mother, noticed that I was making grunting noises and small movements. The doctors and nurses then started to provide the medical care I needed to sustain my fragile life.

Medical documents indicate that my mother thought that she was approximately 18 to 22 weeks pregnant with me when she attempted to abort me. The fact that I survived and that I weighed 2 pounds, 14 ounces, indicates that she was at least six to seven months pregnant. One of the first documentations in my medical records states that I looked like I was “approximately 31 weeks gestation.”  

Despite my miraculous survival, the doctors did not believe that I would live very long, and if I did live—I probably would be disabled. After I survived the failed abortion attempt, I suffered from numerous medical problems, including jaundice, severe respiratory problems, and seizures. I had to undergo multiple blood transfusions. I was too weak to suck from a bottle, so I was fed intravenously through my head for an extended period of time. My future was bleak, but I was alive! Most people would never guess by looking at me today that I suffered what I did as an infant. Today, I am the picture of health. Miraculously, I am healthier than most. I have no long-term physical consequences because of the abortion procedure and my premature birth; I am one of the blessed ones.

After I survived the failed abortion attempt, my biological parents made a courageous and loving decision. I am forever grateful to them for ultimately giving me life despite the initial attempt to end my life. I am even more thankful that they made an adoption plan after I survived. I often hear people say that it is wrong to ask a woman to carry a child to term and make an adoption plan if they feel like they don’t want to or can’t parent them. I understand the well-intentioned place in people’s hearts this comes from. However, I am a living testament to the selfless beauty and love of an adoption plan, and I have seen firsthand how adoption is a choice that EVERYONE can live with. To some—abortion appears to be a solution to the problem. Still, I have seen throughout my life that abortion is not the solution, and it is not a choice that women can live with the rest of their lives without physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual consequences. As hard as it must be to make an adoption plan for a child, it is ultimately a beautiful gift for many—the child, the biological parents, and the adoptive family.

My adoptive parents first met me when I was still in the Neo-Natal Intensive Care Unit in Iowa City, Iowa, not long after I was born. Despite the poor prognosis that the doctors had for my life, my adoptive parents did not hesitate for a second to come to visit me. My adoptive parents share that the first time they laid eyes on me, lying there in the incubator, they thought I was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen and fell in love with me. That always makes me smile because looking at baby pictures of myself, I know that I wasn’t what most people think is a beautiful baby. I was tiny, my head was shaved, I had IV ports in my head, I was in an incubator most of the time, but my adoptive parents were able to look through all of that and see the inherent beauty of God in me. 

I was blessed to go home to my adoptive family within two short months of surviving the failed abortion attempt. I went home to them before I was probably even supposed to be born! I know that the love of my adoptive parents and the nurses and doctors who cared for me helped me not only survive but also thrive. Over the years, I have remained in contact with one particular nurse who cared for me in Iowa City. Mary shared how she helped name me when I didn’t yet have a name, how she and others knitted me clothing, and how they nurtured me and believed in me during those months that I was in their care.  Growing up, I always seemingly knew that I was adopted. I grew up in a home where adoption was just a normal part of our lives. My older sister is also adopted (from another family), and our parents had always let us know how special and loved we are. After almost fifteen years of trying, our adoptive parents finally had a biological child of their own. Just as I’ve been told that there is no medical reason I have survived the failed saline infusion abortion, our parents had been told throughout those fifteen years that there was no medical reason to be found for why they couldn’t conceive. We know that it was simply God’s plan for them to be available to be our parents.  

Just as I had always known that I was adopted, I also knew I was born prematurely. It never was an issue of concern to me, as I knew many other people who were born prematurely. However, it wasn’t until I was 14 years old that I found out the truth about my life. I wasn’t just born prematurely and adopted, but I had survived a failed abortion attempt that was meant to end my life.

Just as God had His hand on my life while I was in my biological mother’s womb, I believe He planned for me to find out the truth about my survival in the manner in which I did. The Lord may not have intended for my older sister to become pregnant while she was still in high school. Still, He indeed used that experience to help all of us in our family truly understand the preciousness of every human life. My sister’s pregnancy enabled the truth to come out, as our parents felt driven to share with her the story of my survival so that she could fully understand God’s plan for every life, and recognize the beautiful importance of her giving life to her child. I can’t imagine what it was like for her to find out the truth about my life before I did. Still, I am forever grateful that she encouraged me to ask our parents for the truth about it. She is even more thankful that she fully embraced motherhood and is the mother of four amazing children today.  

Sometimes, people ask me if I’m somehow angry with my adoptive parents because they didn’t share the truth about my life sooner or without my sister’s intervention. To answer it honestly, no, I am not angry with them. I can’t imagine what it was like for them all of those years to know the truth and how much it would hurt me if I found out. As a parent, I can understand how they felt the need to protect me. Honestly, there was probably no other way that my adoptive parents would have told me the truth, knowing how much it could devastate me, except through the working hand of God in our lives.

It devastated me the night that my sister encouraged me to seek answers from our parents. I will never forget the look on my mother’s face when I shared the discussion that my sister and I had. It was a look of such anguish. I will also never forget the words that she spoke that changed our lives forever: “We just always thought you knew—There is no easy way to tell you this—we never meant to keep it from you—we love you, and we’ll always love you, Missy.” (That is what my family and close friends call me.) “Your biological mother had an abortion during her fifth month of pregnancy, and you survived it.” 

Looking back on that night, I can’t even put into words how hurt I was. For years, I had felt so special and loved. My biological parents had given me life and made an adoption plan for me; then, suddenly, I found out I had survived a lethal attempt on my life. I was devastated! I had never before even fathomed that my biological parents would have considered aborting me. For the first time in my life, I was angry with them. At 14, I couldn’t comprehend how they could have done that to me, their child. However, as mad as I was that night, my anger quickly washed away into great sadness for them because they somehow felt or were put into the position that abortion was the only option for them. Despite their decision to end my life, I love my biological parents and their families unconditionally. Jesus Christ died for them just as He died for me, and we are all sinners. I am no better or worse than they are in the Lord’s eyes, and it is not my role to judge or condemn them.

People often ask how I felt when I found out that I am an abortion survivor. Truly, I felt every feeling that’s possible to feel. I was angry. I was sad. I was scared of who I was and what this meant for my life. I felt so different and alone. I felt embarrassed and ashamed to be an aborted child. Yet, at the same time, I felt the intense love of God, the understanding that He saved me from certain death and had a plan for my life, and that I was special and wanted by Him and my adoptive family.  

Although, I was blessed with the love and support of God, my adoptive family, my  friends, my church, and school, I struggled on the inside with tumultuous feelings  about who I was and what the world said about children like me. I only had to turn on the TV or radio and open the newspaper (this was before the Internet came along) to see what the predominant culture says about abortion. The prevailing culture says, “It’s just a clump of tissue—it’s just a blob of cells—it’s not a child—it’s a choice—children who are aborted would otherwise be a drain on society—you can get rid of that one; another one will come along again when you’re ready to be a parent.” These statements weighed heavily upon my heart and by the time I went away to college, I had learned through experience to stop talking publicly about being an abortion survivor. The hurt and ridicule were just too much for me to bear at the time.

For many years, I was silenced by shame and guilt. I felt guilty for a long time that I survived when so many have not. Over 53 million children have lost their lives to abortion, and I am one of just a handful of survivors around the world and in the U.S. alone in the past 48 years. However, I knew that God intended for me to learn through my time of silent suffering and teach me how everyone is affected by abortion. Abortion silences many in our world particularly women who have had abortions and men who have played a role in the decision. I know God intended for others to learn by my experience(s) and that we must not be silenced by speaking up and speaking out for those who are rendered voiceless by abortion.

During the first couple of years of silence, I started a journey of faith that has truly transformed me. This journey has enabled me to become the person that the Lord created. I am a woman who God saved to share the gospel of life with the world and shine a light into the darkness of the pain and death caused by abortion. From the moment I learned the truth about my life as a survivor, I knew that the Lord had saved my life to testify to the truth about abortion and His redeeming grace. However, I spent many years living in fear of what He was asking me to do. I could hear Him saying, “Melissa, it’s time. It’s time to come forward and share your story with the world”. Although I knew that I needed to do it and someday would, I spent many years questioning God on how I would be able to fulfill His purpose.   

Through His grace I was able to grow in my understanding of Him and heal from the pain that I suffered emotionally and spiritually. By His grace, He has blessed me with the ability to understand others’ pain and help them find healing. After ten years of trying to find my biological parents and obtain my medical records (the two things I knew I needed to do before coming forward with my testimony), I finally succeeded. I have become stronger and bolder than ever, and I was able to find my voice after so many years of silence. 

It was certainly bittersweet to obtain my medical records. Although it was affirming to see it written in my records that a “saline infusion for an abortion was done but was unsuccessful,” it was very difficult to read about how my life was supposed to end and how I had to fight to live. Through my birth records, I quickly learned who my biological parents were. Within minutes, I discovered that not only was my biological father alive and well, but we were living in the same city as one another! How great is our God! Even though I knew that Sioux City, Iowa, is where the abortion took place, I could never have fathomed that my biological father would be living there decades later. I had not grown up in Sioux City; I had moved there during my search process to finish my Master’s degree.  

After months of praying, I decided to reach out to my biological father. Secretly in my heart, I always hoped that he didn’t play a role in the decision to end my life. In 2007, I sent him a letter to his workplace. In the letter, I told him that I knew the truth about the abortion, I had forgiven him a long time ago, I had led a beautifully blessed life, and we were living in the same city as one another. I also shared with him that if he ever wanted to communicate with me or have a relationship, I would be waiting to hear from him. And wait, I did!

Once again, in my life, I struggled with the pain of feeling rejected and alone when I didn’t hear back from him. God’s grace truly is enough, and His love runs more profound and broader than we could ever imagine, but sometimes things happen in this world that eats away at our self-esteem and self-worth. I am a living testament that nothing but the Lord can overcome that pain and transform it into something beautiful. I quickly turned over my hurt and pain to God, and about a month after I reached out to my biological father, I contacted my biological mother’s parents. Even though I knew who my birth mother was, I could not determine her maiden name or where she lived. However, I was desperate to reach out to her, so I contacted her parents in the hopes that they would share my message of forgiveness with her. Since I had never heard back from my birth father and had met my share of rejection in the world, I never expected to get a response from the letter that I sent to my maternal grandparents. But within just a few short days, I received a letter from my maternal grandfather! 

It was a great blessing to receive this letter. I am still thankful that my grandfather was kind enough to respond to it and that he was willing to share so much with me in it. Through the letter, I learned many things about my biological mother’s side of the family and the circumstances leading to my mother’s pregnancy with me. I learned that my mother dated my father throughout her teen years and that they were together for four years before becoming pregnant with me. After the abortion took place, my birth mother went on to marry someone else and had other children. Sadly, I learned that she never told anyone about me, or probably about the abortion. I certainly understand why she kept this a secret. By and large, we live in a society that doesn’t want to talk about abortion. I meet women and men every day who carry the secret of abortion and the pain, shame, and regret of it throughout their lives. It breaks my heart that my biological parents and so many like them suffer the silent pain of abortion for a lifetime and never find healing or forgiveness.

During that same period of time that I was reaching out to my birth family, I finally came forward publicly with my testimony as a survivor. The first time that I spoke was on Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C., with ‘Feminists for Life of America’. It was an empowering experience for me. All of those years that I had suffered silently, felt ashamed, embarrassed, and guilty were redeemed. I know that I have nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty about. I am proud to be a survivor and chosen by God to do His work on this earth. Although that first speaking experience was exhilarating, it was also nerve-wracking for me. For some reason, I didn’t feel like myself and chalked it up to bad nerves. HOWEVER, what I was experiencing was a bad case of morning sickness! I was just a few days pregnant with our daughter, Olivia, the very first time that I spoke out about my survival and spoke out against abortion. 

It makes me smile every time I reflect on my first time speaking because I know that it was another excellent example of the Lord moving in our lives. For years, I desperately wanted to be a mother. The Lord blessed my husband and me with a child when I became fully obedient to Him in answering His call for my life—it was at this time that it became so clear that I was doing exactly what He intended for me to do. The Lord continues to bless Ryan and me abundantly in our lives, and I genuinely believe that our faith and obedience to the Lord continues to bring us favor.  

I delved into pro-life advocacy and speaking during my pregnancy with Olivia. I started to speak mainly on college campuses across the U.S. and Canada, sharing my testimony and encouraging campuses to take a closer look at their environment to see if they were friendly to men and women who are pregnant or parenting. And although my pregnancy with Olivia filled me with the greatest joy imaginable, some days were difficult for me because I was made infinitely aware that my own biological mother had experienced those same changes in her body during her pregnancy with me. She still made the decision to abort me.  

Throughout the past couple of years, I had learned that my birth mother really didn’t have a choice when it came to the decision to abort me. Research indicates that over 60% of women report being coerced into having an abortion. My biological mother fits these statistics. From what I’ve learned in recent years, it was likely one of her parents—my own grandparents who decided for her. It deeply saddens me that we live in a world where abortion is seen as the solution to the problems women face and that so many people call abortion a “choice,” even when both the statistics and experiences of many women reflect that most of them don’t have a choice when it comes to abortion.  

Unbeknownst to me, my biological father passed away suddenly early in 2008. I wasn’t even aware of his passing for a couple of months. I just happened to come across my father’s obituary online one night when I “Googled” his name on the Internet. I was devastated to discover that he had passed away. Despite my deep faith in the Lord, I questioned Him a lot that night. How could He let this happen? I had been looking for him all of those years, and then after I found him, he was quickly taken from me. I couldn’t understand, but I promptly was given peace about it as I heard the Lord reminding me that He is the creator of all things, and He had a plan—a plan greater than I ever could imagine.  

In the culmination of these events, I gave birth to Olivia. On April 26, 2008, she was born at St. Luke’s Hospital in Sioux City, Iowa—the very same hospital where my life was supposed to end 41 years ago. God is so good! Through His grace, the hospital that held such terrible memories for me now holds the most beautiful memories of our lives.  

A couple of weeks after Olivia was born, I first heard from my biological father’s family. Little did I know that when they cleaned out his office after he passed away, they found the letter that I had sent him tucked away in his top desk drawer. I had not heard from him all of those months; I wondered if he received the letter and if he did if he believed that I was his daughter. His family believes that because he had read and kept the letter, he knew he was my father and that someday he would do something about it.  

As devastating as it was to lose my father so suddenly and then to find out the secret he had kept all of those years, his family ultimately reached out to me around the time Olivia was born. I was blessed to meet my great aunt, grandfather, and cousin. I even had the opportunity to speak to my grandmother on the phone and to my father’s wife through email. Since then, I have continued building a solid relationship with my great aunt and grandfather. Both have met my adoptive family, and we get together as often as our schedules allow.

Sadly, these are the only two solid relationships that I have with my biological father’s family despite living in the same community as a number of them. I understand the depth of the other family members’ grief, the complexity of our lives considering the circumstances, and the shame and pain that the abortion should have ended my life caused them. It saddens me that so many families, like mine, are forever changed by abortion. Relationships become strained, secrets are hidden, and the pain and shame last for decades. I see these circumstances in families around the world through my work. I understand how our culture of death silences people who are hurting from abortion, but it’s time we break the silence and heal. I refuse to be silenced by abortion anymore, and I encourage others to step forward and break free from the chains that bind them.

I am often asked if I wish the circumstances of my life were different. Of course, I wish that my life and well-being wouldn’t have been threatened by abortion; however, I’m deeply grateful for the journey I have walked through. I am a survivor! I have experienced more than my fair share of pain and struggles, but I have become a wiser, more compassionate, and more obedient woman. I was fearful of what would happen if I stepped out of the shadows to be a light in this world for years. I desire to reveal the truth of the Lord, and the devastation of abortion can no longer silence me. I know that I don’t need to be ashamed of who I am. I am not a burden—I am a blessing. I am not simply a child who was aborted, but a woman who was fearfully and wonderfully made. 

No matter who my birth family is and how they may have felt about me early on in my life, I will always know who my Heavenly Father is and that He has great plans for me. 

“For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord…” (Jeremiah 29:11)

Melissa is the Founder & Director of The Abortion Survivors Network

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More About Melissa

Melissa is a frequent contributor to pro-life and conservative news outlets and a regular guest on radio and television programs around the world including Fox News, Focus on the Family, Hannity, The Eric Metaxas Show, Huckabee, and more. Although Melissa’s heart is for providing help and hope to all affected by abortion, she also strives to humanize the unborn through activism. She has testified before Congressional committees numerous times, as well as lobbied, and even met President Trump in the Oval Office in 2019. Fulfilling the purpose that she believes God set out for her when He saved her from the certain death of the abortion attempt, Melissa is truly a voice for the voiceless.