She Brings Joy

The temperature has begun to change, and once again memories of Beatrix's short life are set into motion in my mind. There's a repetition of the grieving season which is triggered when the first red hued leaves show up at the edges of the forest.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

**DISCLAIMER

This is a different type of loss post. It is a post about the Planned Parenthood videos currently being released. I also write about my own post-abortive experience. 

Please guard your heart when deciding whether to read this or not.


This past week has no doubt been an emotional week for many American women. Statistically speaking, {supposedly} one in three of us have ended an "unwanted" pregnancy via abortion.

This means that last Tuesday many of us woke up not to images of a beleaguered, controversial corporation caught in a scandal, but to a reminder of what our very personal, past choices really encompassed.  

It wasn’t made any better when social media was, again, plastered with a callous PP worker bargaining for human organs today.

I terminated my second pregnancy, in the second trimester, in 1994. I was moderately pro-choice. I never thought I would have an abortion, but I didn't believe I should be making the choice for anyone else. When I got pregnant a second time at 19 -- already a single mother-- I did what I believed was right for my family. I believed that it was the only decision I could make. There were medical complications with the pregnancy which made it easier to choose abortion. 

At least I believed it would be easier at the time. 

There were things I saw and heard while in the clinic which still wake me up in a cold sweat. What happened after my surgery made my experience more traumatic than most {if there is such a thing as more traumatic than ending the life of your unborn child}. I found it necessary to return to my physician for further care, because the "procedure" was incomplete and "fetal tissue" had been left behind. I was fortunate to have realized this early because retained "tissue" can cause serious infection which in turn can leave you infertile or even cause death.  

Unfortunately, I was only made aware of the retained "tissue" because it was visible on a sanitary napkin following my abortion -- along with surgical gauze which had been left behind in my cervix.

The current events have been a reminder of an experience which was particularly painful. I've watched a number of anti-Planned Parenthood videos throughout the years but none brought such a feeling of revulsion as the ones which are currently circulating. As Dr. Nucatola described manipulating the unborn child for maximum ease in obtaining intact organs I was reminded of the lack of concern for my health, as evidenced by the retained tissue and gauze which I found in the days following my abortion. I was reminded of my own unborn child's humanity, as she spoke so casually of crushing legs and other fully-formed body parts. I was shown the unfeeling nature of an organization which promotes destruction and financial gain under the guise of empowering women during Dr. Gatta’s conversation about the costs of tissue procurement, in which she made the statement, “I want a Lamborghini”.

This past week has brought out a variety of emotion, but primarily I feel sadness and anger.

Sadness because until this week I was never fully comfortable openly mourning the loss of that one, sweet baby.

Who was I to mourn the loss of a child I chose to throw away? It's not about a baby, after all. It's about choice.



As a 19 year old girl I was mistaken in believing their narrative -- the narrative in which my child's life was an impediment to my own growth, nothing more than a choice. I was mistaken to believe their view, that my unborn baby would be a burden.

This mistake turned out to be deadly for my child, as it has been for millions of children conceived in the U.S. for the last 40 years. 

And angry--

For too many years, women have believed the lie which Planned Parenthood has told us. They have believed the lie which states that our reproductive health depends solely on them, as if a woman can't find and fund alternatives to PP’s monstrous and murderous infrastructure. 

Women have believed the lie which states PP is our only ally  in the fight for women's rights --and that those rights are reliant on the destruction of our unborn children. 

Women have believed PP when they told us that they wanted us to have better lives. 

Women have believed PP when they told us our unborn children were not human. 

This week was difficult. I am a mother. 

I will now always wonder- was my child's body manipulated for organ harvesting? 

Was my child's termination prolonged so that an intact liver, an intact pair of lungs, or an intact heart was made available for research purposes? 

Was there a possibility that my child felt extended and unnecessary pain during the procedure because someone was attempting to procure intact tissue?

As stated in the long version of the video-- transcripts available here-- not all babies' lives are ended before the "extraction" procedure begins.

The potential pain which my unborn child suffered is something which I have struggled with for over 20 years. I know this is a primary concern for many {most} post-abortive women. There are many women whose hearts are heavy with new-found grief tonight. 

I am sending this message out today not as a pro-life activist, but as a former Planned Parenthood patient. 

Planned Parenthood owes me more than a canned response about legality and tone.

My abortion hurt me. 

My abortion ended the life of my unborn child.

For once, Planned Parenthood needs to address the thousands of women who have been hurt by their abortions. Planned Parenthood needs to address the women who felt taken advantage of today. They need to address the women who may have consented to tissue donation, not realizing that PP wasn’t talking about “a clump of cells” but intact lungs, muscle, and brains, being removed from babies which may have been delivered using less than compassionate methods.

Planned Parenthood owes every woman who has had a procedure in their clinics more than a canned response. 

Preferably before the next set of videos shows up. 

I didn’t consent to tissue donation, because I wanted to help fund their executive’s luxury auto.  

I consented because I was trying to make some sense out of what I instinctively understood was a senseless decision on my part.

Over the past two decades, I’ve grappled with, and admitted to the dishonesty and selfishness inherent in my choice- it’s time that Planned Parenthood does the same.

This post is for a writing challenge on the phrase "I Write Because". Every Tuesday there's a new challenge. You can join HERE. 


 I write because....


I do not want to forget the weight of her in my hands. I want to close my eyes and recall every last inch of her. Her soft hair curled so tightly to her head. 

She was so beautiful. Just perfectly lovely.


I write because...

Years have gone by and very few people say her name. She could be just another accident of nature, but I am determined not to let that happen. 

Her story is valuable to the human narrative. Knowledge of every life is vital to our survival. We learn from each and every breath taken this side of heaven -- even when those breaths are of limited number. 


I write because....

Women need to be aware that continuing a pregnancy isn't just about religious beliefs and that they aren't causing their children to suffer by allowing their pregnancy to continue to its
natural conclusion. I want them to know that peace begins in the womb and bringing a baby into the world is always a good thing, no matter what the circumstances.

I write because....

It keeps me grounded. I remember how easily things change. In the twinkling of an eye, my life could change and I could lose so much of that which is so precious to me.

Writing brings clarity to my thought process. It helps me separate those thoughts into categories which affect my interactions with people in my life. It allows me to center myself on the items which are important and let go of the rest.

I write because...

This is her space and it always will be. The place where, after I clarify and organize my thoughts, I can direct my focus towards the memory of her.  

This writing is the thumbprint of the life we still share -- her silent and waiting for me, and I yearning for Paradise where I can hold her again. 

I write because....

There would be little else to do during the night, when insomnia keeps me awake. Instead of ruminating on her life and what went wrong, I spend that wide-eyed time writing little love letters to my eldest daughter. 

Letting go of the "what-ifs" is usually the most difficult part of working through a devastating circumstance. Being here helps to quiet the questions.