My Story Of Loss Began Well Before She Died

Friday, August 07, 2015

Over the past few weeks I have been horrified at the release of videos which show Planned Parenthood clinicians and executives partaking in what seems to be the sale of "fetal tissue". Whether you believe what they are doing is appropriate or not {I personally believe it's heinous}, their manner in carrying out their activities is disturbing,  to say the least.

On a personal level these videos, which I watched in long form and in edited versions, have opened a wound which I believed was healed long ago.

As I stated in my previous post, I ended a pregnancy when I was 19. For many years I stayed quiet on this subject. My abortion did have a bearing on my decision to continue my pregnancy with Beatrix, but rarely did I focus on it as a catalyst.

At this point I realize that the part my unborn child played in my decision to carry Beatrix until the bitter {sweet} end is one of the most important parts of the story.

I read a quote once by Ernest Hemmingway:

 "Write hard and clear about what hurts"

While I obviously could never come close to the power of Hemingway's writing, I do want to write clearly about what hurts. Because it's in those hurt places that the best portions of my life also reside.

I guess this is just a note to let the {few} people who read these little scribbles know how things will be going, as far as grief journaling, from here on out.

I've been pretty open regarding my pro-life persuasion and I've been contributing writing to a number of pro-life efforts for a short time now.

I always feel hesitant to share those writings here, because in the baby loss community speaking negatively about terminating a pregnancy -- especially if it has been for medical reasons -- is forbidden.

But my regret over my abortion is a part of my loss experience.

Just like other women feel the need to be open about their personal experiences terminating for medical reasons, I feel the need to be more open about my abortion and how it negatively impacted my life.

I have been working very hard on a project for siblings of babies lost to birth defects, and I was afraid to say anything incendiary about my own thoughts, because I didn't want my project to be disregarded by those who may have a different view on abortion than I do. After seeing what I've seen over the last few weeks -- I don't care. I don't want to be quiet about this because it's horrific. Whatever gain I receive for being silent, I lose in integrity.

From today on, I will be more liberally sharing all of my loss journey, not just the parts I think are safe for everyone's eyes and ears.

My story of loss began well before my Beatrix died. My story of loss began when I was a 19 year old girl. I grieved then, and I grieve now, over the child who should be here.

So tonight, I will clearly state:

I should be the mother of a 21 year old child. My eldest son lost a sibling, my family lost a grandchild... cousin...niece or nephew. There is someone missing from our house at Christmas time. And it's not o.k.

Tonight as I tap out this lonely message, sending these words out across the millions of miles of wires and airborne signals I just want to say one thing.

It wasn't just a choice. "It" was my child.

Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.

Created in His most beautiful image.

Discarded by me.

My abortion hurt me, and it killed my child.

The least I can do for that child is openly mourn him/her as I do my sweet Bea.

I'll end this with another Hemingway quote.

"The world breaks everyone, and afterwords, some are strong in the broken places."

Part of me has been broken for a very long time. I can no longer claim ignorance of the reason for this brokenness.  My grief story began 21 years ago. Tonight is the first step towards finding strength in that broken place.

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