I was 22 years old and was proudly driving a friend of mine on a quick tour of Pittsburgh, my home town. “Jerry” was from the Northeast and had only visited Pittsburgh once before. We drove through the Pitt Campus, then Shadyside, then through East Liberty on our way to Squirrel Hill. Jerry was indifferently taking it all in when he suddenly barked at me to stop the car. I veered around the traffic and tried to pull over. “Stop!” He was nearly crying when we finally jerked to a halt in front of a nondescript white building. “Here’s where it happened,” he said flatly, “Here’s where they killed my child.”

It was that day that I began to understand the long term effects of abortion on the minds and hearts of it’s victims. Jerry and a former girlfriend had visited this building four years earlier. She was pregnant and they were freshmen in college–young and alive and just beginning life’s journey. Jerry had never overcome the guilt and regret of his first visit to Pittsburgh. I realized the great cost not only to women, but to post abortive men as well. His reaction moved me to pray that no couple would ever again think of my city as a place of failure and shame. Why am I still part of Women’s Choice Network after all these years? That moment in East Liberty was my “why.”