Download LifeDate Summer 2025 – Every Life Is a Story
by Chrissy Tritch
My name is Chrissy Tritch.
I work for Coalition Life as a sidewalk counselor, and this is my pro-life story.
I’m not post-abortive, but if it wasn’t for God’s perfect timing and my beautiful, intelligent mother, I would be. At the age of twelve I found myself angry, scared, confused, and pregnant with my stepfather’s baby. Mom immediately made for the nearest pay phone to schedule an appointment with a trauma therapist.
I remember my grandfather in the kitchen telling me he loved me and wanted me to have a bright future. He recommended I “take care of the problem” and handed me a check.
That’s when I heard Mom clear her throat behind him. She calmly walked over to me, took the check, tore it up, threw it in the sink, and asked him to leave so she could speak to me alone about the matter. He started to protest, and she said she had no problem calling the police. That convinced him to walk away.
At first, I was angry. I couldn’t understand how she could stomp all over the only solution that had been handed to me—to us! I screamed at her and ran to my room.
About an hour later, she came in and sat on the bed. “I know you don’t understand right now, sweetheart, but that was the right thing to do for you and the baby you’re carrying. Do you need a little more time alone, or are you ready to talk?” I told her I’d be ready after the boys went to bed. She said, “Okay, Jesus and I, we love you and your baby, Chrissy.”
That night we sat across from each other at the kitchen table sipping chamomile tea. She said, “The way I see it, you have two choices. You can let me help you raise this child, or we can look into adoption. But I love you too much to let you walk into an abortion facility and kill your child—my grandchild. It will only add to the pain you’ve already been put through.”
I looked at her and said, “Add to the pain? They’re doctors and nurses, Mom. It’s a clinic. They help people.” “No, they don’t,” she said. “They prey on vulnerable people for money. Abortion is unnatural and vicious, and there are very real mental and physical consequences for it. Women who have them aren’t happy or healthy. I’ve taught you about the Lord, and this isn’t what He wants. ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ remember? I know this is scary when you’re only twelve. I’ll be right there with you through everything no matter what, I promise.
“I think it’s time to tell you about your birth because you need to know just how powerful and wonderful God is. I never told you before because during that time, I was angry with your dad and terrified of losing you, and I felt it was best left in the past.
“It takes three to conceive a child: God, a man, and a woman. But most people think they have the right to leave our Creator out of that equation.” She refilled my tea and began. “I was 19 years old, separated from your dad, nineteen weeks pregnant with you, and living in my grandmother’s laundry room. I went into labor, and they tried, but couldn’t stop the contractions. The doctor told me there was no way you would survive outside of the womb, so my best option was to abort. I told him he didn’t know you wouldn’t survive because he wasn’t God. His job was to try to help you survive, and I expected him to do it. Then he proceeded to tell me that even if you lived, I would never be able to afford your care in the hospital. I told him, ‘I’ll figure out how to pay you.’ He rolled his eyes at me, sighed, and said, ‘Okay, we’ll try.’ You were one pound, three ounces when you were born. We could see through your skin, and some of your organs weren’t developed all the way yet. You lived in the NICU for six months, and for the first two it was in the back, in a corner, under a dark light with a thin, dark sheet covering most of your incubator.
“I prayed day and night. I sat beside you five hours at a time singing and talking to you just so you’d know I was there. When Medicaid quit paying, I called my half-brother in California to get your grandfather’s phone number. I hadn’t seen or talked to him since we left him when I was four, but he is very wealthy, and I had to try to see if he would help us. I called him, and he got on his plane and came straight to the hospital. He paid for all six months of your care and gave me additional help when you made it home.”
I just stared at her for a moment and said, “I’m sorry I even thought about it now, Mom.”
I decided on adoption, and we narrowed it down to fifteen couples from around the world. Sadly, I miscarried at ten weeks. After all of that, my life spiraled out of control. To my mother’s dismay, I married an abusive man who caused a stillbirth and six miscarriages. He even tried to beat me to death with a tire iron and a rubber mallet in front of our very young children. It took three years for me to get back to being a capable, functioning adult again, capable of relieving my children from foster care. Following that came an addiction to prescription medications. I got help to stop but then came a cancer diagnosis!
Now I’m 47 years old. I’ve remarried—seventeen years next month—to a fantastic man with a ferocious love for spreading the Gospel. My kids are grown and call him Dad, and we have three grandchildren. I have three struggles right now: PTSD, multiple sclerosis, and watching families go in and out of an abortion facility five days a week. Sometimes I am powerless because I know I can lead a horse to water, but I can’t make it drink. Often the only thing left to do is pray for the ones who refuse to listen.
I’ve had people ask me how I could go through so much and not be angry with God. I just smile and say, “We victimize and are victimized because of sin, and for this reason we have Jesus. Why would I be angry at God when He’s been right by my side, renewing my strength and bringing my kids and me through everything?”
As long as you don’t allow Satan to chip away at your faith, God will give you the strength to get through anything. God’s peace, brothers and sisters.