My friend Emily does the A-Z Challenge and since I have all but forgotten my blog I decided this might be an easy way to get back into it. So here we go….
A
I decided my A word would be abortion. Not because I want to initiate debates or tell the world my moral stance on the issue, simply because I want to share my experience.
I recently found out I am pregnant with my second child. Yay! (As I roll my eyes into the back of my head and sigh heavily) Don’t get me wrong the rolling of the eyes and the sigh have drastically decreased over the few weeks I have known (13 weeks and 6 days to be exact). However, this hasn’t been a pleasant surprise. Cue the back story….
I’m pregnant by the father of my son, him and I are about as stable as a contact on the tip of my finger in a tornado. We didn’t work out so well after we had my son but, my ridiculous obsession with love keeps me coming back time after time. He just isn’t mature and he is a runner. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. I think he misunderstood that quote and took it literally….he gets going alright, to the point that he is gone! That is neither here nor there, just a slight back story to set the stage for my “A” word, abortion.
I stuck the stick underneath the stream that I had held the whole way home from Wal-Mart. Sure enough a pink positive sign faintly appeared within seconds. I wanted to cry. I stood staring down at the stick in my bathroom of the apartment I just rented. I sent a picture message of the dreaded stick to the father and was met with the reply of “what are you going to do?” For the first time in my life something that I thought I could never do crossed my mind as the only solution. Fast forward a week or two…. I go to a friend’s house and breakdown. She isn’t judgmental, probably because she herself has had too many incidents where she could be judged and judged harshly on. This is the friend you go to when you know what you’re doing is wrong but, you know she won’t tell you otherwise. She is a listener and sometimes you just need someone to listen until you make the choice you need to make. Fast forward a week… we are driving to a city a hour away because I called and made an appointment with an abortion clinic. I can hardly speak and my throat feels tight and dry. Our GPS gets us to the street and I am praying that the protestors decided to stay home today. (I’m not so lucky) As we turn onto the street a large poster size sign sits boldly in the back of an old pickup truck. It’s the mutilated body of an infant, laying in a pool of blood. I turn my head but the picture is burned into my mind. We drive a little further as we near the building there is a crowd of protestors. On the sidewalk in the cold snow sits a child, he might be seven or eight and he is holding a sign that reads “God loves your baby”. The others around him are holding signs but surprisingly none that are harsh nothing like “murderer, baby killer” just sayings about God and choosing life. Perhaps with my background this is even harder to take in. I know this is against everything I stand for morally and yet here I sit in the passenger seat of my friends SUV pulling into a parking lot of a building I never thought I’d ever step foot in.
We pull into a space and a skinny girl probably early 20’s meets us at our car door. She is an escort for the clinic. She is in a neon green vest which compliments her tall combat boots. I know this girl; she is the one who probably stands up for women’s rights. Her friends are all the same and they get together and talk about girl power and maybe even burned a bra once or twice. She is nice and she makes small talk about the weather and points out how weird the protestors are and how it’s even more weird when they shout out prayers. I thought to myself it wouldn’t be weird to you if you knew why they were doing it and I do know why they are. I’m led to a waiting room where its only my friend and I and 3 other people. I expected there to be a few other people but, I didn’t expect the massive amounts of people who would start filing through the door. Hours passed and by the time they call my name I am in a crowded waiting room with 20 other people. I couldn’t wrap my mind around this, 20….. 20 girls….20 babies who will never see the sun…20 babies who will be in a red plastic bag labeled biohazard. I felt sick, very sick. I kept looking at every girl there and trying to create a story in my mind, justify their reason for them. One girl stuck out to me. She was a heavy set girl who looked to be my age or maybe a bit older. She was there with her husband. He sat there playing on his iphone and she sat there crying. She couldn’t stop crying. They looked well to do, they could afford a child, they were old enough, they were married so why is she here? Is something wrong with their child, perhaps an illness that was detected? They can’t fathom raising a child with a disability so they opted for this? Justified. My mind was racing and I just wanted to ask. Then in the corner was a young black couple, joking like they were in 5th period study hall. The fact they were there didn’t faze them and perhaps the act that was going to happen wouldn’t faze them either. They looked so young, they were probably there without their parents knowledge. She probably was heading to a college this fall and he was probably doing the same thing, a child in a dorm room doesn’t work. Justified. Another black girl sat quietly in the rocking chair. She didn’t get on her phone, she didn’t look at the papers on the coffee table, she didn’t look away from the hall. She came alone, the guy she was pregnant by was probably in complete agreement and they probably didn’t speak anymore. She didn’t get on her phone because maybe she didn’t have one. So she probably couldn’t afford a baby or afford emotionally doing it alone. Justified. I started to think of my reasons. Because I have a son with this guy and he isn’t around…but I do fine without him. I just got promoted at work and my pay increased…money is there. As far as I know this baby is healthy and if it isn’t then so be it. I couldn’t justify any reason being here. I spoke with the counselor and scheduled the appointment for the procedure for the following week. I got into the car and began to sob. This isn’t me; this isn’t something I can do. No judgment to any of those who can or have. It’s a safer option than a back alley whack job. I just couldn’t live with that choice. I called that Monday and cancelled, turned around and called my OB.
I’m not proud of my actions or even that I allowed my doubt in myself to carry me as far to walk inside a clinic but, I am glad it happened. I am glad that when I hold my new baby in my arms that I will cry harder knowing what I possibly almost gave away to doubt and fear. I will know that I made the right choice by following my moral beliefs and doing what is right even though it means a harder road ahead. I told a friend recently of my pregnancy and he had this to say. “God has a plan for everyone and maybe right now the big picture is cloudy but, one day it will all make sense”. I believe that. I believe that maybe now and for a while things will be tough and I might spend some nights crying. I do know I will spend many nights adoring my children, I will spend days at the park watching them play, I will sit up nights worrying when they are sick. I will still be the mother I am today but to two wonderful lives that God wants on this Earth! So for all of this I have another “A” word, appreciation.
