‘Sophie’ came into my life just days after my 17th birthday. My boyfriend and I had been on a difficult journey over that  year – which began with me deciding to go back to high school to do some Highers so I could later join him at the University of Aberdeen where he had just started. I had a conditional offer to study for an MA in Human Geography.

I began my exam leave feeling tired, emotional, nauseous and with some weird cravings and an adversion to pasta.

Halfway through my exams, I finally gave in and took a pregnancy test. And then another.

For me at that time, there was only one viable option to take – for my safety and wellbeing, my boyfriend’s wellbeing and for the fact I knew we couldn’t give a child the practical bare necessities they would need to thrive…shelter, food, care, safety, love.

With the support of our 2 best friends and my boyfriend’s parents, we decided to terminate the pregnancy. And that I’d keep it a secret from my own family.

My GP was very understanding when I asked that I postpone the hospital appointments and the procedure itself until after I’d finished my exams. The only issue was that I didn’t realise how much I’d end up bonding with the being growing inside of me in those 3 weeks. Holding my tummy and imagining what it would be like if circumstances were somehow magically different – being able to enjoy being pregnant and the anticipation of becoming parents.

I was 10 weeks along when I had a surgical procedure under general anaesthetic to remove all ‘products of conception’ from me.

I was shocked to discover how much it affected me. I had always been pro-abortion (although not late-term ones) so I thought it was a matter of getting it done and then going back to normal life. Apparently this wasn’t the case.

I got a place to study Geography, and it wasn’t until I got there and broke up with my boyfriend that I was able to ‘feel’ anything, because until that point I wasn’t able to acknowledge what I’d lost (a child, a relationship) in order to gain (freedom to heal from childhood trauma, an education).

Because of many dreams and visions I had during that period of grief and healing, I believe that I was pregnant with a girl, who I would have named Sophie.

Sophie means wisdom. And I guess Sophie’s story is one of wisdom I’d would not otherwise have gained had she not come into my life.

Wisdom that…

• even when you use contraception, you can still get pregnant.
• when you face the consequences of one choice you make, it will affect the choices you make in the future.
• you shouldn’t judge people. It’s so easy to say what is right and wrong, but it’s a whole other thing to be in that situation.

Do I regret the decision I made to end Sophie’s life prematurely? Yes.

Can I honestly say that in the exact same circumstances and knowing what little I knew then my decision would have been different? No. I can’t change the past anyway.

Do I think about what might have been? Absolutely.

Sarah Williams puts it like this in her  book The Shaming of the Strong

“the thing about losing a child is that you do not just lose them once, but you go on experiencing the loss of what they would have been.“

And that has certainly been my experience. But I’m unbelievably lucky to have realised that despite what could seem a horrible time in my life caused by a selfish decision, so much good has come out of Sophie’s being part of my life (for however briefly). It brought me to know God, to help others and instilled in me a passion for promoting excellence and openness in sex and relationships education, to be less judgmental, and a number of people after hearing Sophie’s story have opened up about their own ‘Sophie story’.

And to me, that is what I would define as Amazing Grace.