More of My/Our Story
I felt called this wee to share more of our story after watching a teen abortion debate, and Birthright: A War Story. Our story isn’t special, we’ve normal people living human lives. No two stories out there are the same, and they all matter.
Dear Baby,
You were a thought in my mind before you were conceived.
I thought we would have four. I thought about you: a playmate for your brother, another giggle from the playroom, another hand to hold, another cheek to kiss...
I love being a mom.
I know I would have loved being your mom too.
But then things changed.I still thought about you, but my thoughts changed shape. I changed my mind.I realized we were meant to be a family of five.
Suddenly there wasn’t room for one more.
I was grateful for the contraception. I thought the IUD would be like a road sign. “Uterus not open for business.”
I’m not sure how or when it happened, but the sign fell down.
The IUD slipped out.
Immaculate Removal.
The sign fell down and you came in.
Then I had to make the hardest decision of my life.
I had to tell you “no.”
Sometimes it still hurts.
I wouldn’t wish that hurt on anyone.
But in hindsight, that hurt gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.
You gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.
You showed me just how strong I really am,
And now, thanks to you we can help other women who have also said “no”.
Thank you, one millions times over,
Thank you for your perfectly imperfect arrival and departure.
xoxo,
Forever your mom
My husband and I have been together over twenty years. We met in high school, and graduated together in 1997. He might tell you otherwise, but for me it wasn’t love at first sight, more like love after an adventurous friendship.
He drove an old passenger van. It scared the crap out of me and at the very same time it pulled me in like a moth to a flame. He was the “bad boy” (but not really). I was the “good girl” (but not really). Opposites attract, and we did. The chemistry is still nearly tangible, steady, explosive, bonded. I’ve been known to tell him, “I hate that I love you.” What I really mean is, “Loving you is a given, even when I don’t like you or I’m overwhelmed by us.”
We were together six years before we got married. After the rings went on our fingers came four planned pregnancies. I never thought about our track record much, but now in hindsight I can see how “clean” it was; how lucky we were. Twenty years of “controlled” intimacy. Now those numbers feel like a lottery win. Effective birth control ranged from condoms, to the pill, and even a well planned and intentionally removed IUD between pregnancy three and four. I’ll spare you the details, but that’s a lot of safe sex before our first unplanned pregnancy. Twenty plus years of safe sex and then we had to do the hardest thing we’ve ever done.
Abortion isn’t really something most couples talk about. We brushed up against the conversation a time or two, but only in a “we’ll never have to decide” kind of way. I studied women’s health in college, went to midwifery school, doula’d over fifty babies earthside; I’m no stranger to abortion. I’m pro-choice by politics, and all mom by heart. I NEVER thought being mom would mean saying no to a baby in my womb. Either did he.
I wasn’t tracking my periods, but both of us have a good sense of when my period is supposed to come. Sometimes his is better than mine. It feels fuzzy when I think back, but we let the missed period slide for a while, it was probably one part denial and a few parts “life is busy”. Eventually I said the words, “I think I might be pregnant”, and both of our stomachs sank to the floor. It wasn’t the first time I’d said those words, but this time we both knew something was different. Being a bit of a cheapskate, I grabbed five pregnancy tests at the dollar store instead of one at the pharmacy. I probably joked with the cashier about how scared out of my mind I was, “here’s hoping they are all negative!” I wonder how many women file through the dollar store for one dollar pee sticks. Some are likely praying this will be their shining positive, others begging the hot one night stand didn’t come with extra gifts, teenagers hoping they don’t see anyone they know, middle age women wondering if it’s menopause or pregnancy that has them losing their minds… and all of them just like me, taking it one foggy step at a time, half in and half out of their own reality.
The temptation to pee in the driver’s seat under a blanket, or in a gas station bathroom, is high when you’re holding the crystal ball to your future in a cheap plastic bag with the loose change from a desperate purchase. The anticipation is tangible. Back at home I downed a few glasses of water and prayed. I don’t go to church, but I prayed. I’m not even sure who I was praying to, but there was no question what I was praying for. Thirteen years earlier I couldn’t wait to see the positive and today I was pretty sure I’d pass out on the bathroom floor if it came through.
This is when things got really interesting. The test was negative. Four more to go so I took another. It was either a case of dollar store disappointment, “you get what you pay for” or I really wasn’t pregnant. The second test was negative too, and I immediately texted my husband with the results. He was elated. I could feel his relief as the news sunk in. He confessed, “I know it’s what we talked about, but I wasn’t sure I could go through with an abortion;” and I confessed, “Oh my God, me too. I was so afraid to tell you.” The words were a relief, but my intuition didn’t see things exactly the way the dollar store did, and now it was out in the open that both of us were questioning abortion as an option.
With plans to go out with friends that night, I set my worry aside and got dolled up for a concert. Four years prior I’d filled the cd holder in the car visor with birth hypnosis cds. I never listened to them, but on the winding drive to the concert one came flying out from the visor like a frisbee. Hesitantly giggling I told my girlfriend about the pregnancy tests which opened the doors for sharing the night with her in a much more present way. “So there’s this funny thing,” I whispered, “I took two negative pregnancy tests but I think I’m pregnant” Like any grown woman she knew this could happen to any of us, so we sat with the “Holy Shit!” fear and wonder for the rest of the night. We made lots of jokes about unplanned pregnancy; I needed the comic relief.
“Not pregnant” I ordered a drink as soon as we arrived and that’s when I really knew. My body didn’t want the drink. The only thing that got me through to the last sip was the hope that it would make me ‘cheap date drunk’ and I’d be able to forget about my other three pregnancy tests and enjoy the night.
I have a notably terrible memory, just ask my family, but I feel like I can remember every detail of that night: every familiar and unfamiliar face, the smells, the sounds, the temperature of the room. It all comes flooding back when I go there in my mind.
As you can imagine I peed on stick number three the next morning and sure enough it was positive, which led to stick number four, and that’s when the brick wall reality came crashing down on us. Everything was about to get really real. I texted my OB on Saturday morning. Not many people can text a friend who happens to be their obstetrician. Not only had we worked together in the past, but she supported us through a third trimester bed rest before the delivery of our son three years prior. She had placed the IUD that I thought was protecting me from another pregnancy. She was my gynecological rock and a sister on the journey. She made what could have been a really tumultuous journey, feel easier with her loving, but matter of fact, presence.
Step one was to confirm that I was in fact pregnant, no sense getting all worked up over a dollar store pee stick. That was one of many blood tests to come. Blood draws for pregnancy status had, up until that point, been very exciting. This was also exciting, but not in the way I’d ever experienced before, it wasn’t “joyful” exciting, it was terrifying.
The technician must have thought I was nuts blurting out “I hope it’s negative!” In a small town five degrees of separation are more like two, and we quickly made connection when I divulged that my brother had a post vasectomy baby and I was praying to not be the IUD pregnancy sister. ‘Against the odds fertility’ wasn’t the family legacy we were going for. This wouldn’t be much of a story if I told you here the results came back negative, so with medical confirmation came the heartbreaking reality that it was time to make some really big decisions.
Step two was to take a deep breath, cry a little through the shock, and look at options.
If this pregnancy had happened at any other time in my life it could have wrecked me. I could have let it wreck me, but at this particular stage in my life, having self studied with oodles of personal development and mindset experts, I navigated every step of the journey with an awareness that allowed me to feel the feelings, stay present in the moment, and choose really intentional thoughts.
I knew that, as human beings we all have access to one powerful and life changing tool. No matter what our circumstance, no matter what our resources, we all have access to the power of our own mind. As human beings we are feeling creatures. We are also thinking creatures. Our thoughts control our emotions and our emotions control our lives. The easiest things I could have felt upon the realization of an unplanned pregnancy would have been: fear, terror, guilt, shame, anger, and betrayal. I did, in fact, feel all these things at one point or another, and I’m glad that I let those feelings come through, but what I also did was consciously choose not to get stuck in any one of those feelings.
The thinking mind is a special kind of gift in the human experience. It can lead us to brilliant invention, social transformation, and intimate joy. It can also lead us to the darkest of caves, tragic world wars, and the deepest of depressions. It is our blessing and our curse. In combination with scientific and energetic laws of the universe, we use our thoughts to build our lives. Some of us do this consciously, and some of us do this unconsciously. In the case of my abortion I was determined to use my thoughts to build my future.
Some may argue, “Well that’s easy for you. You had a loving partner, a healthy family, the privilege of being a white woman in the United States.” All these things are true and I am grateful. I am grateful every single day, but I am also human and we humans know that darkness can swallow the most privileged, loved, and successful among us, and on the flip side, great light can shine upon the seemingly most unfortunate among us. This is possible not solely through our circumstances, but through how we interpret and think about our circumstances. In thinking about abortion I decided that what felt like a personally tragic situation, could possibly be my greatest gift. From that decision forward I looked for all the ways that I had been blessed by the immaculate IUD removal. The unwrapping was all in my mind, and to this day I am blessed with gratitude for having lived this experience.
Dear Listener
What’s your greatest fear?
Have you ever thought about what you would actually do if that fear came to fruition?
How might you overcome the temptation to collapse, and choose to rise above?
Believing in YOU,
Amanda
Dear Baby,
You sure knew how to rock my world.
Well played.
You challenged me on so many levels of feeling, thinking, and action taking, that I had no choice, but to gain strength in my humanness.
You asked me to look at every single aspect of the life I was living and the future I was creating, and to own it all. This is a gift I am grateful for every single day.
I am grateful for YOU, every single day.
Xoxo,
Mom
One thing I knew for certain was that I didn’t want another baby. I was just through the diaper stage, newly finished with breastfeeding, and my big kids were stepping into the magical world of the independent pre-teens. My marriage was strong and steady, but had been through a fair number of challenges through the infancy and toddlerhood of each baby. My career was bringing me places I never dreamed possible for myself. Life was better than good, and the last thing I wanted was to rock the boat with the introduction of another child.
But… I’m a mom. I’m the kind of mom who started bonding with her babies as soon as the egg implanted. I felt every twitch, and every wiggle delighted me with pure joy. I’m also the kind of mom who can handle just about anything parenting throws at her. Granted I’ve been incredibly blessed with healthy well adjusted children, but I won’t let that detract from the fact that I am natural when it comes to mothering. My kids are, for the most part, the ones who every parent wants over for a playdate, every teacher finds delightful, and I can count on them for dependable and thoughtful behavior, behavior that we’ve taught them as parents. They love life and we love them.
When we had just one, I used to think we got lucky. When we had two, with totally different personalities, I started to think, maybe I have a knack for this. Then came number three and I was pretty convinced that in the grand scheme of things I was nailing my role as mother. In all fairness I’m not on this high horse all of the time. I make about a million mistakes a day, but I know how to recover from them. I know how to bounce back when the going gets rough, and I’m committed to doing so.
So here I am, all mom at heart, being handed the ultimate test. The worst nightmare kind. If you were in a life or death situation and you couldn’t save all of your children, what would you do. That’s what it felt like. In those brief weeks when I was pregnant I felt like I had to decide who was going to fit in the lifeboat. Carrying the baby to term would have put us all at risk.
My marriage would likely get rocky again. Caring for newborns can feel like stumbling around in a dark cave praying you don’t bump into a bear, and that you’ll eventually see the light again. In the darkness you stumble upon one another periodically, remembering why you fell in love, and then are quickly swept apart again. Raising children and maintaining a healthy marriage is no easy feat. I couldn’t fathom what would happen if we went back into the cave. Either could he.
My girls, whose lives had been deeply shaken by the arrival of their brother, would likely be pushed further from me. They were at a pivotal time in their lives. A time when they were beginning to find their wings in the world. In fourth and seventh grade they were on sports teams, learning to play in school bands, navigating social circles, and even flirting with the feelings of crushes. When you are in the thick of raising babies you think that when you get to this stage they will need you less, but it couldn't be farther from the truth. They just need you differently. Sure they spend the majority of their time out of your arms, but they need more than ever to know you’ll be there to come home to. They need this home in you, not just physically, but emotionally, and anyone who has raised babies knows that in the thick of those early years there’s not a whole lot of room for emotional support when everyday is a game of survival.
If I’m being honest my three year old didn’t carry much weight in my decision making process. I knew he’d adjust no matter what because he was at the age when life is all about adjustment. Three year olds, although filled to the brim with opinions, don’t really think about big life stuff like adding siblings to the family. I knew he’d be just fine no matter what we chose.
Anyone who knows pregnancy, knows that it is unpredictable. I spent more than a trimester on bedrest before our son was born. My husband was an angel. My parents were angels. A handful of friends and family threw their hands into the support soup that got us through. In retrospect we didn’t just survive, I’d say we thrived, but it breaks my heart to think back on how especially hard that must have been from my girls. They left me on the couch everyday to go to school, and came home to me on the couch every afternoon. At seven and ten they were making their own lunches, getting themselves breakfast, and walking to school on their own. I remember, like yesterday, what it felt like to try to make them toast in the morning and breaking down crying when I didn’t have the strength to stand in the kitchen long enough to butter the bread. None of us knew what was wrong; I was in office after office desperately seeking answers, but none ever came. For us as adults, our minds wandered to what ifs, but for them at such a vulnerable time in their childhood I cannot even imagine how scary it must have been to see their vibrant go getter mama taken down for over three solid months.
Bedrest could easily be made a book of its own, but in terms of deciding to abort this baby, I wouldn’t say it played a huge role in the process from a personal perspective. I knew I’d get through if it happened again. I knew as a woman and a mama I was strong enough, but it definitely was a card on the table in terms of how it would affect the rest of my family if we found ourselves there again. In thinking about the lifeboat I had to ask myself, “Is this really the life we want to live. Smooth pregnancy or not, do we really want to walk this path again, take our chances, rock the boat?”
In addition to what I already knew to be true for our family, the reality of parenting is that choosing to have children is like a game of roulette. You never know what you’re signing up for. Beautiful souls come into this world in all different shapes and flavors. Every parent knows that their baby, no matter its components, is perfect for them. Children are love in its grandest expression. We fall in love with our children no matter who they are, but when we’re pregnant we wonder. “What if they are born with physical challenges? What if they are born with emotional or behavioral challenges? What if they are born with medical challenges? What if they are born in pristine form and then something happens?” As much as we know ourselves to be capable of love in all its forms, our minds have a tendency to spin. And so I thought, “What if we’re not so lucky this time? What if this is the one that breaks me? What if this is the time I’m not strong enough?”
When I really let the worry game spin I thought thoughts like, “What if this is the pregnancy that I don’t live through? What if I’m taken from them? Who will love them the way I am capable of loving them?” It’s possible there is no greater game of chance than that of becoming a parent. Because it’s a part of the human experience, we take it quite lightly most of the time, but the enormity of it is truly mind boggling. These are only some of the places that your mind goes when you are processing how to keep your family afloat in the lifeboat.
Any pregnancy has the likelihood of stirring up these questions, concerns, and realizations, but an unplanned pregnancy really gets the wheels turning. “What if I don’t get so lucky this time? What if this is the baby requires us to parent in a way we’ve never had to parent before? What if this is the baby who falls into the SIDS statistics? What if this is the baby who spends her life in medical offices?” And perhaps the most challenging question of all… “What if this baby manifested the immaculate IUD removal because she was really meant to be here, and to make her entrance through my womb?”
That’s the one that got me the most. This question tore at us both, but it really challenged me deeply. This question wasn’t just boxed into in my “what if” worry mind; this one had me questioning everything I choose to believe about life, and love, and greater purpose. I’ve always believed, and still believe, that everything happens for a reason. In this belief there was really no way to make a wrong choice, but when you are in it, when you are wondering how this baby made her way into your womb against the odds of contraception, you have to wonder if you’d be really messing with the divine plan to choose medical intervention. Then you have to wonder what the consequence of that would be, not only for you and for her, but for your family, community, and the greater world.
This is where I leaned deeply into both my mind and my heart. I felt the feelings of fear and burden, and even indulged in confusion. There were times I wanted nothing more than for someone else to decide for me. I cried when I needed to cry, screamed when I needed to scream, and even found myself cursing and blaming at various pit stops along the way. I didn’t push away the process, but I did make some choices along the way.
First, I committed to not getting stuck anywhere. I let all the thoughts and feelings move their way through me, but I refused to get stuck in a place that wasn’t in the best service of the future I wanted for myself. I decided that no matter what decision I made it would be the right one, and then I decided that as soon as I made a choice I would go all in and think the thoughts necessary to support myself in whatever choice I made. It looked a bit like this:
First thoughts:
SHAME-“This is all my fault. I am an irresponsible woman, and a failure of a mother.”
ANGER-“Why me? This isn’t fair. I don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”
FEAR- “What if I make the wrong choice? What if I screw this up?
Second thoughts:
CONFIDENCE-“Shit happens. I played the game and this time the game got complicated, but I am fully capable of making the most of this awful situation. I am smart, strong, and resilient.”
CURIOSITY-“Interesting. I didn’t see this coming, but now I get to decide where it goes. It’s possible that there’s a silver lining here.”
FAITH-“There is no wrong choice. All the lessons and experiences of this unwanted event will someday unfold, and I will be grateful.”
Thinking a second thought one time, doesn’t magically make the first thought disappear, but consistent practice and constant awareness eventually begin to shift your feelings in such a way that your entire perspective shifts and you realize that you’ve gained back control of your life through the lens of perception and fueled by love.
Realizing you are pregnant when you don’t want to be is an experience you can only know through walking the walk. No man will ever understand the nuances of this journey, not even the man who is holding your hand every step of the way. No woman can know the experience for anyone but herself, as each of us who find ourselves facing unplanned pregnancy, navigate the path with vastly different beliefs, tools, and resources. The way through the future debate around abortion is that we have to to stop judging each other. The judgement is building walls that tear apart men, women, and families who could otherwise use their energy to make the world a better place. It’s time we start holding each other; even when we disagree. Agreement is not love. Acceptance is love.
Dear Listeners,
Where and how can you choose love?
Does it change your relationship with others? Does it change your relationship with yourself?
What’s YOUR big dream? What’s the life that you want to live, not the one that others are telling you you are supposed to live, but the one that calls to you while patiently waiting for your attention?
