I Cried, for the First Time

No, not just now. Nor recently. More like over a year ago.

In the previous post I mentioned that I would be writing post ideas that have been swimming in my head for a while. No, I have not been dwelling on the crying continuously for a year. Actually, it is something I have only recently remembered and realized.

As long term readers will recall, the first and last time, I cried was a day or so after the first abortion. The following excerpt is from "Damn! That Hurt!";

...The only thing I clearly remember after that was going to a Wal-Mart with my mother.  We were in line waiting to purchase our items.  Behind us was a couple about my age.  They had a baby in a stroller with them.  The baby was crying.  Basic fussing, like babies do, not causing too much of a scene.  I was about ready to burst into tears.  I asked my mother for the car keys to wait in the car.I bolted out of that store so fast.  The moment I got in the car I bawled like never before.  Tears streaming down my face and hyperventilating in my breathing.  My mother got in the car.  Asked me what was wrong.  Really?  She couldn't put the two together?  I said something to the effect of "I killed my baby" or "I will never see my baby" or both of those things.  Her response?  Oh, that's all. I thought maybe the baby was annoying you and something about I did the right thing, it was no big deal, I would get over it, etc.  Then and there I decided that the only thing to do was to be numb about the situation.

If you are new to reading this blog I would recommend that you read "The First Abortion," to be able to start at the beginning of my story.

Back to the subject at hand. I had not cried since then. I suppose it would be rather difficult to cry over something I did not remember. But even after the memories surfaced I still had that inner child crying within me. Eh, she was probably there the entire time, since the first abortion. I just refused to acknowledge her. I didn't even know why she was there. Though deep in my soul, I knew she was there.
There were times I felt like crying. But could never really bring myself to cry. Sure, there were times when I would get sniffly, maybe even a tear or two fall down my cheeks.
During the different grief sessions at the Rachel's Vineyard Retreat the other attendees did cry, when telling their stories or listening to others' stories. But I was just stoic when speaking and listening. No one judged me for not crying, nor did I judge others for crying. There may have been a moment of self judging myself for not crying. "What's wrong with you, do you have no feeling?"
It was when I was going through a particular rough patch at the beginning of last year, 2017, when I did finally cry. I had been switching between bouts of anger (angry at who or what I do not know) and extreme sadness. One night, late at night, in late January or early February I went on a video binge on YouTube. Searching for all the saddest and most painful songs I could find.

It was then I finally let the tears fall in a sweet sweet release! Everything, the pent up feelings for the past twenty-two years finally came bursting out. Every ounce of moisture being released from my eyes. Face completely wet. Puffy eyes. All of it. Was this the first time crying ever within those years that I had cried? That heavy? I am not sure. I probably had cried, a time or two, over something unrelated. But I really don't recall crying like that.

I never really felt the need to talk of it. I never thought there was any significance in it. But I truly believe this was a major pivotal point in my healing. Probably not a first step, but definitely a huge step, even leap, in my journey to getting up and dusting off.

Does He Even Remember Me?

That's a question I asked myself last night while trying to sleep.

I sometimes have dreams about getting back together with "Matt." Many times it comes to fruition. But then he disappears. Or one of us we will try to contact each other, yet missing a connection. We are never parents in any of the dreams. I never really gave much thought to any of these dreams, other than wonder where that came from after waking up.

Until last night. I was thinking about him. Thought about the good times and the bad times. And yes, there were good times. But does he remember any of them? Does he remember the woman he dated for a year and a half? Does he remember the woman whom he impregnated? Does he ever wonder if the child really was lost to miscarriage? Did he ever wonder if she was pregnant before breaking up with him? If he thought yes, did he wonder what happened to that child?

Does he even remember her name? Does he remember what she looks like? Does he remember that he was her first...everything?
I remember the first time he kissed me. I giggled. It was nothing against him. I wasn't laughing at him. I was almost twenty years old, and had never been kissed! Heck, I had never even dated anyone! It was a nervous reaction. I remember when he first told me he loved me. I just couldn't bring myself to say it back. He was rather offended by that. I wasn't sure if I did love him. I didn't know what love is. Perhaps I still don't. I did end up reciprocating the sentiment. But did I mean it? Did he mean it? I don't know. Perhaps, on both accounts.
I remember the first time he tried to have sex with me. I remember being swept away and taken in. Almost relenting. Then pulling back. I remember the first time of surrendering to him. The details of which would not be appropriate to speak of.

During the breakdown of 2014 I did check on Facebook to see if he had a profile set up. Not really that I wanted to reconnect, just checking to see if he was on there. What would I even say to him? Why would I tell him that I was contacting him after all this time? At that time he was in a relationship. He may or may not still be.

I have since found out that he now has a son. Doing the math, that son is less than a year younger than what Hanelore would be. Because I don't know the exact mathematics of that boy's birth month or even when Hanelore's due date would have been; I am not sure if "Matt" impregnated another woman towards the end of our relationship or soon after my breaking up with him.
There is a bit of hurt in that. Whether he was cheating on me or started a relationship soon after the break up. I can't help but wonder what was so special about the mother of his son that she was "allowed to" give birth to his child, but I wasn't. Did she have support from "Matt"? Did she have support from her family? Or was she stronger than me and stood up to them all? Is she the woman "Matt" is in a relationship with, or was recently? Does "Matt" look at his son and think that the son may or may not have a sister? Does he regret his non committal attitude toward my pregnancy with Anastasia? 

The Crying Child Within

There's a perpetual child within me. She cries. Not all the time. But she's crying now. Why is there a child in me? Why is she crying? I want to let her out. Yet, I want to keep her within me.

It's been three years since my breakdown of January 2014. I am not sure where to start. As the breadown did not just happen at once out of the blue. But rather gradually, until it just blew.

While I do try to avoid mentioning identifiers about myself. I think I need to mention that I used to do seamstress work from out of my home. I think that may be a good place to start.

I had left my full time job to do sewing and alterations work from home. I had been doing that during my off time from work. Business had been picking up, before quitting the regular job. There were a few lulls and pick ups.
Sometimes the lulls would be quite long. Being short on money and not knowing where my next meal was coming from could cause little breakdowns themselves. When I had the good pick ups and would be paid well it would be a balancing act between purchasing quality supplies for future projects and food.

My specialty was alterations on bridal and formal. Though I did work on most any type of sewing; from lightweight simple repairs to heavy-duty heavyweight fabrics.
The formal work was the best. I thoroughly enjoyed working with the clients, their friends and mothers.

Yet, I think the connections with the clients may have been the lead in to my break down. Ever since the abortions, in certain ways, I was perpetually young. On a subconscious way I didn't see myself aging into someone old enough to have a teen child.
Yet it was while I would be having conversations with the mothers. We would talking about basic news, local issues, politics, music from when we were younger, how things were different when we were kids and teens. Then it hit me, I was older than I felt.

It still took a while to make the connection that not only was I old enough to have children who were teenagers. I was supposed to have teenage children! I can pinpoint the moment it dawned on me that I should have teenage girls. There I was standing at the kitchen sink. Washing dishes.
All of a sudden I found myself saying something to the effect of "my child is going to college." Where did that come from? Can't remember if I said it aloud, mumbled under my breath, moved my lips without vocalization, or just a strong thought. But there it was. Not only was I talking to myself, I was talking nonsense that wasn't even relevant to my life! Then I said, "my daughter is getting ready for prom." Still didn't click yet, in regards to my past.

This would have been about January of 2014. I ended up catching a cold or the flu. Or something. Decided to rest up on the sofa. Even after coming over the sickness, I still just couldn't do anything. If I got the snow shoveled, I was good for the day. Didn't even have the desire to do any sewing.
Fortunately I didn't have any customer projects that needed done. Oddly, before this time I would be all excited to take a call for a new project. Not anymore. When the phone would ring I would avoid answering and letting it go straight to voicemail. Figuring I would listen to the message later. Couldn't feel up to that. I did not want to deal with people.

There was this feeling I couldn't explain. I felt as though I were trapped within myself. I wanted to jump out of my body and run far away from myself. Yet, I wanted to hide farther within myself. I felt as though I was crying within myself. While no physical tears were released. It was as if there was a small child within me crying.

Then, it was while laying on the sofa, for some reason I decided to Google D&C abortions. Not sure what compelled me to do that. That, that, that is the moment EVERYTHING finally clicked! No, this was not a happy moment. Not at all. D&C was the type of procedure for the second abortion.
All the memories kept flooding back. It all came full circle. I remembered the abortions. It still did not feel like a memory of something that happened to me. More in the vein of being outside of myself. Remembering that it happened to a young twenty something woman I once knew.

I began to search for as much information about abortion as I could. Still can't say why. I knew I needed help and healing. But where to look? I knew about pro-life organizations that want to end abortion. Was using all kinds of search words. In my searching I did find a few sites for healing. Some were of words of encouragement. Some gave words of help to healing. There were even a few organizations that helped directly, such as Rachel's Vineyard. Some where one could write and/or call to talk with someone.
I was not ready to take that step. What would I say? How would I even begin?

This is not the end...

I'm Mad at God!

Well, not really. Well, yes, maybe. I don't know.

I am coming up over a cold that had me bed ridden for a while, other than going to work. But not only that, it is around about the time my first child (Anastasia) would have been conceived twenty years ago. Funny thing about when you are sick in bed; not much you can do except sleep, read, watch online movies, and think. The thinking is what can sometimes knock you down. Heck, even the sleeping, if you are notorious for weird dreams. Which I am.

Been having buttload of baby and young child dreams. Nothing I can really remember much of. Sometimes it can just be simply giving birth. Having the baby in my life, yet being kept at arms lengths from being able to hold her. An older child being introduced to her new sibling. Being at an airport or some sort of transportation center; handing children over to some random woman and saying goodbye.

OK. That being said; let's get to the title of this post. The phrase "hindsight is 20/20" seems to be fitting for my current situation. When I have been awake I am just mopey. Hard to clean house, fix a meal, or do any regular household chores. Just sit and stare. While not technically a thing, I would call it "conception mourning." I already Googled to see if the description existed. Nope. I guess there is a rock band by that name, or a song.
I have read that women who have had abortions will mourn many anniversaries surrounding the abortion(s). One of those times could be in regard to the time the child was conceived. Probably true for women who have experienced miscarriages.
Looking back, that could be consciously or sub-consciously. In my case, I think it is leaning more towards the sub-contentiously. January has always been a sucky month for me. Never knew why. Always attributed to coming down from the holidays. Which could easily be true. But not the complete picture.
It was about this time three years ago, in 2014, in which I had my first break down. I felt like absolute crap! Yet I didn't know why. Oh, this has got to be a whole separate post as to when my break down and memories started. I will get to that soon. Hopefully sooner than later.

In the looking back, I feel as though I am mad at God. Where was He during the "family intervention"? Why didn't He give me the words to convince my family that abortion was wrong? Why didn't He smite my family; mom, aunt, grandmother? OK, maybe that's a bit harsh. Why didn't He at least temporarily incapacitate them, to give me time to get away from them? I could have run off and hid until I could find something resembling a nineties version of a crisis pregnancy center. Where was He the night before the abortion? Where was He when I walked into that clinic? Where was He just before the abortion happened? Where was He afterward?
Actually, come to think of it, where was God when I first met "Matt"? Where was He when"Matt" was first trying to seduce me? Where was He the night I finally did relent?

As has been stated in the post about the abortion itself, I came to a "conclusion" "that there is no God." But the reality is; I rejected God before the abortion. Sure, I had been baptized as a toddler. Sure, my mother occasionally took me to Sunday school, sometimes keeping me with her during church services. Sure, I did attend church during high school. Even belonging to the teen club at church and joining the teen choir. Of course calling myself a Christian. But I didn't really have much of a prayer life, nor attended church after graduating high school.
So, basically I didn't turn to Him during any of the moments leading up to the abortion. Didn't pray for the relationship between "Matt" and myself. Didn't pray about my child after I became pregnant. Don't remember much about what I was doing or thinking in the time between the "intervention" and the abortion. But I do know I didn't pray about it.

So in the end, it is myself I am mad at me. Not God.

(Since the time of the abortion I have since came back to church. It has been a journey. Becoming a member of a denomination different than that which I grew up. Joining a church of another denomination, once again. But this time I am sticking to it to the end. Have a much stronger prayer life. Perhaps I will talk about that at a later time.)

My Name is Kathy, I Live in Michigan

In May I was considering coming out of the closet, the abortion closet that is.  I was contemplating letting friends and family know I have had two abortions.  With much fear, I came out.  Is it freeing?  Perhaps.  But maybe not.  What made me finally decide to do it?  Issues with my mother.

How did I do it?  Due to issues with my mother I was texting with an out of state friend.  I was feeling stressed.  I decided right then and there the truth needed to be told.  I wanted to shout it out on Facebook.  I needed to shout it out somewhere.  I felt like I was going to burst!  Problem was, my internet access was down at the time.  After much prayerful thought I gave my friend the go ahead to post to my wall.  It was scary.  I did not know if I was doing the right thing or not.  All I could do was trust in God.  Many of my friends are pro-life.  I even have a few family members on Facebook.  I was afraid they may think of me as a bad person - not for having the abortion - but for letting out the secret.  Even though they did not know at the time.  I was afraid they would tell my mother.  And my mother would get upset at me, for revealing the secret sin.  I did receive support in comments.  The friend who posted was kind enough to share said comments. 

Why am I not so sure if it is freeing?  As I said above, there is that fear of what people would think.  I was afraid of loosing friends on Facebook.  But at the same time if they are going to stop being friends because of a past abortion sin then they were probably never friends.  In some ways I do want to lose friends.  I feel I don't deserve friends.  I feel I deserve to be left alone. 

Why did I do it?  It needs to be done.  The pro-abortion side is going into overdrive with their agenda.  Using TV and popular culture to make abortion look cool and normal.  Attacking pro-life movements outright.  Also, I felt stifled in my talking about pro-life issues.  I would start to talk about something and then feel like I would need to hold back.  I was afraid of others wondering how I would know anything about what it is really like for a post abortive woman.  I was afraid of them knowing I was post abortive.  When reading comments to posts from pro-life pages on social media I would see nasty judgmental comments.  I would want to respond.  I would overthink on how to reply and try to sound as impersonal as possible.  One of the many specifics I have wanted to talk about is how I think the "doctor" from the second abortion is somewhat a Kermit Gosnell of Michigan.  I want to be able to share the pro-life books I have read, here on this blog and on Facebook, without anyone getting suspicious.  If everyone knows who I am, there is no reason to fear.  And not having fear is how I can tackle the pro-abortion side.

Which is the Real Punishment; Baby or Abortion?

I was thinking about the comment President Barack Obama made regarding not wanting his daughters to be "punished with a baby," in 2008, during his first presidential election.
While I try to leave political views out of my posts I believe in looking at all angles of an issue.  I am not one to get my information from just one source or the other.  I refuse to focus on information that leans to one agenda or the other.  So I decided to refresh myself with the segment of his speech through a Google search.  Supposedly, he wasn't talking about abortion or supporting getting abortions for his daughters.  I watched the video clip, read the "explanations" from both sides.  Yeah, it's rather iffy and can be taken either way; depending on what the person's view is already. Typical of most politicians.  I will let you click the Google search here and decide on your own.  Either way, the attitude of being "punished with a baby" seems to be within the pro-abortion side.

This got me to thinking; in comparison to a pregnancy or abortion, which is really the punishment?  A baby is a gift.  Not a gift from the woman's husband or boyfriend (or fill in other possibilities).  But she is a gift from God.  Would you take a gift from a friend or beloved family member and say "gee thanks, I really like this, but not right now or not ever" and then tear it up and throw it in the trash?
Remember, I have had abortions also, so I am not judging.  Just reflecting and looking back.

I am reminded of when I was in the third grade, being the latchkey kid that I was, while my mom was at work I snuck into her closet to find two Cabbage Patch dolls that she was holding until Christmas.  I guess I had misbehaved in school or didn't do my homework or something.  So she took one of the dolls back.  After opening Christmas presents that year I looked around asking my mom where the other doll was.  Oops.  She asked me why I thought there was another doll.  I had to tell her.  She was mad.

Here's my point.  Kids get presents from their parents.  When they misbehave the parents sometimes take away the gift.  There is a similarity to that and abortion, especially when the mother is forced or coerced.  Maybe even when the mother was in full decision of the abortion, whether she let anyone know about it.  Whether there is pressure from family, boyfriend/husband, friends, or society they are the ones who are telling the woman that "she is a bad little girl" and should have her gift taken away as her punishment.  She doesn't deserve to have the baby.  Yet, it is packaged as the pregnancy being the punishment.  Again, even for the woman who made the decision on her own, she too is being punished by society.  Due to society's view on pregnancy during "imperfect circumstances" and abortion.
*I don't quite recall if the actual word "punishment" was used during the "family intervention" but I do remember the allusion to the "fact" that continuing a pregnancy would be a "punishment."

When making the comparisons to parents taking away a gift and pressure to abort it is almost like these YouTube videos out there where parents hammer out or shoot up a kid's expensive tech item such as iPhone, iPad, laptop, Xbox, etc.  Kid misused the privilege, that comes along with such tech objects, given to them.  So the parents destroy the object, while the kid can do nothing but witness the destruction.  Never again to be in a useable condition or to be seen anymore.
Which is quite similar to abortion being used as a punishment.  The child is destroyed.  Never to be loved.  Never to be held.  Never for the parents to see or hear his firsts; words, crawling, walking, eating solids, attending school, extracurricular activities, marriage, family of their own.  The mother of the aborted child is there to witness the destruction.  There is nothing she can do to stop it.  Afterwards she just stares at the destruction, not able to anything but cry.  Maybe not now, but possibly later.
I have always thought these videos of the parents destroying their kids' high end toys are dumb.  The parents could hold onto the toy until the kid straightens up.  Give it to charity.  Sell it on eBay.  Do something where the item is not destroyed and can still be used.
Same with a child where the mother is currently unable take care of the child.  She should be encouraged to carry the pregnancy to terms.  Her family should be there to support her and the child, given resources on being able to care for the child while being raised by her. If there is no way to do that perhaps someone could step up and take care of the child until the mother is in a situation to raise the child herself.  If there is no one able to do that for her then encourage adoption.

Of course a child can not completely  be compared to an inanimate object.  That is where the similarities differ.  Yes, when the Xbox or whatever is being destroyed the kid is going to be upset and cry.  But they will not look back years or decades away and mourn for the object that was destroyed.  They may possibly realize they were dumb for doing whatever it was that caused the destruction of the object.
As for the abortion she will look back at the abortion and regret it.  Regret that there is no way to bring back the child.  She may even regret partaking in the action that got her pregnant.  Of course I am looking at this from the perspective of a woman who was unmarried at the time.  I do realize that there are women who are married at the time of their pregnancies,who abort.  My empathy goes out to them, whatever the situation.

Another difference between the parents who destroy inanimate objects and abortions is that the tech gadget is a gift from the earthly parents.  While a baby is a gift from God, our Heavenly Father.  The gift from the parents is destroyed by the parents who gave them the gift.  The gift from God is NOT destroyed by The Father who gave the gift to the family.  But is destroyed by the world and the culture. 
This is something I am finally coming to terms with.  At the time of my first abortion I came to "the 'realization' that there was no God."  I never knew I had that thought until sometime last year, in 2014.

*Recent additions after editing

Still Healing and Recovering

Warning: The following is a bit disjointed.  Firing out thoughts as they come.  No rhythm or concise order of anything.  

Been debating writing about this.  As was stated I attended a Rachel's Vineyard Retreat about 3 weekends ago.  Oddly it seems longer ago than that.  Yet, it seems more recent.  I have been doing that for the past year or so, since "*coming to terms" with the abortions.

*Really, can one truly come to terms with an abortion?  I don't know.  I can't answer that.  No matter how much support one has from a confident(s), retreats, online groups, prayer, Bible reading, etc "automatic healing" will not take place.  All I can do is trust in Christ.  Yes, it's an uphill battle.  One that I must climb everyday and trust in God.  Look, I don't have all the answers.  I just know I am going to fall.  Heck sometimes even go snowball rolling down that hill.  I know when I do fall to get on my knees and pray.  Even before starting up the hill to get on my knees and prayer.  Regardless of my mood.  Do I always heed my own advice?  No!  But I must keep persevering.

Looks like I kind of went off track.  Let's get back to the subject.  So the reason, or one reason, I debated writing about this is that I was afraid of possibly coming off as saying that the retreat didn't help me.  It did.  Believe me. I don't want the following to be a discouragement to those who may be considering attending a retreat. Whether you are in the look-up stage or making plans to attend a specific retreat in your area or somewhere else; I want to tell you that despite any of your fears it really truly is a healing experience.  Or part of the healing experience.

Currently, I am writing from my "sick bed."  Not really like I have the flu or something.  Just tired.  Don't want to do anything right now.  Playing Christian/Gospel/Hymn music.  Reading from the Bible.  Praying the rosary.  May read a few verses from the Book of Psalms.  Checking out the Twitter feed.  Of course writing too.  Playing online games, just to release some stress. 
Although I am currently not at the point I was when I "discovered" that I had the abortions.  That time was horrible.  All I did was lay around, desiring to cry yet the tears would not flow, lay in a fetal position, wishing the world would go away.  I have made some progress in that time.

I have been somewhat lethargic since coming home from the retreat.  The leaders did state to take it easy when getting home and not be wonder-woman.  I did try to heed that advice.  But at the same time I felt like I had so much in my life and home that were neglected during my reflection time.  I thought I could come home and do all kinds of spring cleaning and DIY projects.  But I was also being careful not to overdo things.  I would wake up, drink my coffee, sit and stare, think about the things I needed to do.  I thought "the next cup of coffee will give me the energy to do things."  Nope.  After finishing a day of doing nothing,except for maybe the basics I would go to bed  feeling defeated and lazy. 
Finally, I have just collapsed.  I am laying on the couch propped up by a throw pillow and a bed pillow.  Doing nothing.  And that is fine!I don't know how long I will be on my sick bed.  And that is fine.  I am not going to schedule the time I will be on the sick bed.  And that is fine.  I am not going to schedule things I need to do.  And that is fine. 

There is a photo on the sidebar along with the same photo at the top of the blog that is of the prayer and meditation shrine in memorial of my girls, Anastasia and Hanelore.  I have it set up in my kitchen.  It is a nice spot to be able to remind me to look to God in all my sorrows and joys.  Have my devotions and prayer time there.  Feel as though I have my daughters near me during meal and prep times.  I am not at the point where I set a place and meals for them.  Yet, I think it is now time to take down the shrine and put the memory items in a safe and secure spot, to be able to look at when I need to. 
Although my hoarding issues seem to get in the way of that.  Don't know why but in some ways it feels as though I am getting rid of my daughters again.  Possibly as though I am "hiding them."  These are issues I need to work on.

Point is; there is no one true miracle that is going to all of a sudden make my emotions be all Maria from The Sound of Music dancing in a field of flowers.  And that too is fine!

Why do I write?

That, that I am not sure. Well, maybe I am.  I don't know.  Yesterday I finished up with the story of My Second Abortion.  It was the hardest thing ever for me to write.  Had it not been for the experience at the Rachel's Vineyard Retreat; I do not think I would have had the courage to write it.
Whenever I write out a post I share to my Twitter feed.  Now why do I do that?  Am I doing this because I want to be some "internet star"?  Ah, not really.  Of course I must admit that anyone online with their own websites and/or blogs want a readership following.  But I am not doing this for my own adulation.  I want for a conversation.  I want to bring to light what life is like for those after abortion.  I hope and pray for my expressions to help hurting souls who may have had an involvement in abortion some way; or maybe those who are contemplating abortion.  I pray for my writings to change the hearts and souls of those who are so called pro-choice.
There are multiple pro-life websites and blogs out there.  All with differing styles and purposes.  Some goals are to bring to light the atrocities of the actual abortion process, expose those in the abortion industry, places to let post abortive persons tell their stories, places to encourage pregnant women and give them all the resource information, being cheerleaders to those within the pro-life movement, and like with me a place to express their own thoughts, views and expressions.  And of course I would be remissed if I did not include that there are also websites that talk of other aspects of quality of life.  But as for me, I am focusing mainly on the anti-abortion side of pro-life.
Along with that, I want to be able to do more than just "preach to the choir."  I have never been one to shirk away from controversy.  I welcome all readers.  I have no problem discussing anything in my posts with pro-choice persons.  If you are pro-choice/pro-abortion I ask that you remain within topic, be respectful of my views (along with other readers) and any other comments, no mocking.  The same goes for the pro-life readers when in a comment discussion of a post.

Back to the writing of the second abortion. I did not write about it because I was proud and all "look at me!  I had an abortion!".  No, I wrote of it because it needed to be said.  I had been debating writing that experience for a long time.  It was a stop gap for me.  Without such a writing, I was unable to go forward with anything else.  Things that need to be said.  Things that need to be shown to the light of day.  Things that will tell of how my abortions affected many aspects of my post abortive life.  Things that will help other women, and men too, realize that they are not abnormal and others or at least another person has had the same things going on.

The Second Abortion

This is a hard post to write.  After writing about the first abortion, in categorized posts, I was unable to go forward with writing about the second abortion.  Perhaps the reason for that is mental exhaustion, feeling like collapsing after writing about it. Perhaps shame.  I don't know.  Maybe a bit of both.
It took me forever to even remember the abortions.  Though I always knew in the back of my mind, I ignored them.  Though they always affected my life in one way or another.  The way I lived.  The way I reacted around men. The men I chose, or more or less put up with and let choose me.  
All the while I lied even to myself after remembering the abortions.  I only told myself about the first one.  Perhaps it was the differing reactions to finding out about the pregnancies.  During the first pregnancy plans were being made for, Anastasia, my first daughter.  The second time I never even acknowledged, Hanelore, the child within me.  There are even more "blank spots" in this abortion.

Perhaps you may want to start and the beginning and read about the first abortions to know where my story starts and come back when you are finished; My first abortion story.

The following memories are quite fuzzy, possibly more so than those of the first abortion.  So, since having the second abortion I moved away from (my hometown) and to (town my mom lived in).  I was still seeing "Matt" after the move.  I would drive to (his town) see him, or occasionally he would drive to (town) to see me.  Of course we were having sexual relations.  During one of the visits he saw my belly, it was getting bigger.  In fact, I never really even noticed.  He asked me if I were pregnant.  I denied it, not just to him, but to myself also. 
Even if after he pointed it out, I still ignored any thoughts of being pregnant.  Then one day while I was at work I went to use the rest room.  For some reason when I looked down at my belly I noticed that my tummy was bigger.  Then that's when the reality hit that I could be pregnant.  So many thoughts came running through all flashing at the speed of light.
I was scared, I recalled everything that went on during the first pregnancy and abortion.  "Matt's" reaction and attitude.  My mother's attitude and coercion.  I really didn't know what to do.  I hate to admit it, but I could not envision carrying the pregnancy to term.  But I did not like the idea of going through another abortion.

I guess I picked up an at home pregnancy test after work.  I don't know.  I know sometime soon after I did purchase said test.  Maybe it was the next day or during one of my first day off after seeing my large belly.  I do remember when seeing the positive results.  I know it was quite early in the morning.  I was hopelessly frantic.  The first thought was abortion, totally unlike the reaction to the first pregnancy.
Very odd, but the first person I called was a professor from college.  I should probably back track there.  See, even though I was in a relationship with "Matt" I was seeing a professor from the college I was attending.  Seeing as in having a bit of a fling.  The class I met him in had already finished before anything happened between us.  Not that I am excusing anything, just adding the back story.

Gosh, I have no idea how early in the day it was.  Just I know it was quite early.  I think I woke him up when I called.  No "hey, how you doing" I just simply blurted out "I have to have an abortion!".  He just said "I can't talk right now."  My heart just sank.  I felt even more alone than I did before.  I didn't even think he could be the father.  He had been using condoms during our "trysts."  I suppose there could have been a minuscule chance, but I was thinking of Mike being the father.  I guess the reason for calling him may have been deep down I wanted him to convince me not to.
Feeling scared, confused and trapped; I looked in the phone book looking under "abortions."  I found one ad that said something to the effect of  "Pregnant? Feeling scared?  Wanting an abortion? Call us."  So that's what I did.  I called.  Some lady answered.  I blurted out that I was looking to have an abortion.  The lady was really snotty.  She said "We don't do abortions!"  In a very judgmental tone, and hung up.  Not sure which of us hung up first.
I felt even more bad.  I thought I could do this on my own without anyone knowing.  Now what was I going to do?  I was too scared to call anyone after that.  I guessed I was going to have to tell my mother.
Looking back, the place I called with the snotty lady was most likely a pregnancy crisis center.  Fine, they didn't do abortions.  But why couldn't she have tried to talk to me?  Ask me questions?  Ask why I wanted an abortion?  Tried to talk me out of it?
Later in the day Mr. Professor called me.  Said he was sorry he wasn't able to talk to me when I called.  He was telling me I should have the abortion and that it would probably be best.  He told me that he knew others who had abortions.  I still wasn't even thinking about the first abortion.  It's like I remembered it, but didn't.  Looking back, I wonder if he ever wondered if there was a possibility it was his child.

Fast forward to Fourth of July 1996.  My family was planning on having a picnic at my grandmother's.  My mother and I drove in separate cars.  The plan was to meet "Matt" after both of our families had their picnics.  I just couldn't face him.  I didn't want to.  I called him to tell him that I wasn't going to be able to see him.  I broke up with him over the phone.  He accused me of cheating.  I denied it.  Yes, I know, Mr. Professor, and all.  But he didn't know.  There's no way he could know.  OK, so there's no excuse.
I just wanted to be alone, away from people.  I left my grandmother's.  Told my mom I wasn't feeling well.  Drove home.
When my mother got home I broke down and told her.  I told her I wanted an abortion.  She never questioned me or asked if maybe I would want to carry the baby to terms.  She asked if I was certain I was pregnant.  I told her I was sure and that the pregnancy test had two tests in the kit.  Didn't even have to wait the 5 or 10 minutes or however long the instructions said.  I could practically see the results show up as I was peeing on the stick.

At some point a doctor's appointment was made.  It was confirmed I was pregnant.  My mother told the doctor I was for certain going to have an abortion.  The insurance and the doctor was connected the Catholic hospital in town.  He said because of that he couldn't refer me to an abortionist.  Yet, he didn't try to convince me not to have the abortion. 
Eventually I was given a vaginal exam at another doctor's office.  Oddly, while I don't remember the abortionist from the first abortion, I do remember this guy.  He was a short and somewhat chubby.  I don't remember his name.  He was either Mexican, Mid Eastern or India Indian.  Had somewhat of an accent.  Doing some internet searching I think, but not sure, he is someone who has gotten in trouble with the state and a few women have died under his "care."  But again, I can't say for certain  That it is him.  I have no idea how far along I was.  Not one stinking clue.  I was never even told.

Then the time for the abortion came.  It was done at one of the hospitals.  Obviously not the above mentioned Catholic hospital.  The only thing I really recall is an older lady in the waiting room.  She asked what we were there for.  I didn't know what to say.  My mother "chimed in" and said I was having a D & C.  The lady responded that she had that done after having a miscarriage.  And that was it.
I don't remember anything after that.  I was put on full anesthesia.  Out cold.  Don't even know if the doctor from the exam was the one who did the procedure or if it was someone else.  I do not recall waking up from the procedure.  I do not know if they had me rest afterward or for how long.  I really don't remember leaving or the car ride back home with my mom.  The one and only thing I remember is my mom commenting about the lady in the waiting office; saying that she was being nosy or something like that.
I think I had a day or two of recovery.  Maybe more.  I don't know.  I think my mom went back to work after I got home.  I do know that when I went back to work there was some reason I had to grab something from storage.  In part of the post abortion instructions I was told I was not to lift heavy objects.  Considering that no one knew about the abortion I could not just tell the manager that I wasn't going to grab the item for no reason.

The end, but not really...

Thoughts on Rachel's Vineyard Retreat

Wow, February 13, 2015; last time I wrote a post?  Has it been that long?  I have had so many thoughts swirling around in that time.  I have wrote out quick quips at the Anastasia and Hanelore Twitter account.  I am feeling that now is the time to write a few new posts.

This past weekend I attended a Rachel's Vineyard retreat.  While I am still processing everything that happened, I would like to express a few of my quick observations.  Perhaps I will write more in detail, without being too personal, at a later time.
For post abortion healing this is a great retreat!  I felt validated to connect with men and women who have been through what I have been going through for the past 20 years.  While their experiences may not have been exactly as mine, I finally felt as though others understood my pain.  There was much peace and healing. I was given many gifts from the retreat, leaders and most importantly a gift of peace from the Lord. 

It may have been Catholic oriented, but all from all faiths are welcome.  I was the only non-Catholic there.  In fact, I am a Christian, a member of a local church, still no "actual" connection to an actual church.  (That is a subject for another post)  Yet, I felt very accepted by everyone.  I even had my own Marian experience/image.  Nothing like "an image of Mary on my toast" kind of thing, but through meditation.

Everyone was given a journal to write their thoughts and stories.  I didn't write anything while there.  I did stay at a nearby hotel after the retreat was over.  There, I did start to write into the journal.  I have more to write into it.  I can pour out more personally into that.  I wanted to make sure I wrote down who gave me what gifts, so as to remember and treasure them.  As to treasure within my heart the persons who gave them to me. 
Oh, there is so much I want to share, but again, I want to write out personally pouring out my heart.  Then edit out that which would be too personal.  There were so many meditation places within the center to reflect on Christ's Sacrifice and God's love for ALL us sinners.  I will forever treasure everything within my heart. 

During my stay at the hotel I created a "portable shrine" from many of the items received from the retreat.  After coming home I set up the shrine at my kitchen table, along with personal family oriented items added.  I prayed the rosary at this personal shrine, along with a quiet meditation.  I truly felt at peace.  A peace I have never experienced before.

Please join me in following reflections and growth to come...

Dear Young Woman...(A Letter) EDITED

Below is the edited add ons; with an * in front.


So often I see these "letters to my younger self" making the rounds on the internet.  I am sure they are all well and good and can provide a therapeutic outlet.  But writing a letter to my younger self will not change the past.  It will not bring my babies back.  So I prefer to write a letter to the woman who is currently pregnant and unsure what to do.

Dear Young Woman (or possibly not so young),

I don't know you.  You don't know me.  But I do know what it is like to be in your circumstance.  You are currently experiencing an unexpected pregnancy.  You are searching the internet looking for advice.  You are unsure what to do.  Or perhaps you are sure you want to raise your baby or release her to adoption.  You have so many voices telling you what or what not to do.  Some of them you know personally.  Others are just noise in the media.  You have no room in your mind to think.  Girl, I know.  I feel for you.
Perhaps you are recently out of high school and planning to marry your fella.  Rings and wedding plans already made.  Perhaps you are in a casual relationship.  Maybe you are already married already with or without other children.  Perhaps you are still in school, feeling very scared.  Perhaps you never even consented to the acts of conception.  My heart and tears go out to you.
Whatever your situation may be those around you may be telling you to have an abortion.  Saying it is the only way or the best way.  You want so bad not to have an abortion, but don't know what to do.  The people talking you into having an abortion may be telling you things like it is just a blob of tissue.  It's not a person.  It is so small that it can't really be a person.  Yet, why are so many physical changes taking places in your body?  Yes, they are correct as to him being small right now.  Yet your body knows he is supposed to be there and changing as he grows.  They are telling you reasons why you can't have the baby.  Maybe you are countering them with how you will raise your baby in the best environment you can give him.  Or maybe you are countering them with the idea of adoption.  Whether the persons talking you into abortion are family, baby's father, or his family; perhaps they are telling you that if the baby can't stay in the family then he can't be raised in another family. 
Maybe you are on the other spectrum.  Maybe you do want an abortion.  Maybe those around you do support your decision.  Maybe they don't.  Perhaps you still aren't sure if you will be making the right decision.
I am not part of any organization.  I am new to the blogging thing about pro-life.  So I can't give the best advice that others can give you.  But what I can tell you is that there is a great chance you will regret going through an abortion.  And I do know how the after effects will be.  Once it is done there is no turning back.  There is no bringing that baby back.  Most likely you will go through many issues should you have the abortion.  Time does not heal.  Perhaps you will be fine for a while, but most likely you will hurt many years later.  To receive better advice than what I can give, please check some of the links to the right side.  This is a very short list of organizations that can help you, either in your decision of  raising the child or releasing to adoption.  There are many blogs that discuss what the abortion issue is truly about. 

* I would like to add that you may be scared to contact organizations or persons whom you don't know.  Maybe you are scared of the "judgmental pro-life" stereotypes.  Maybe you are scared of "telling others your business."  Believe me, I know how you are feeling.  I knew about adoption agencies such as adoptions within the Catholic Social Services during my first pregnancy.  I did not know of any crisis pregnancy centers at the time.  Perhaps they existed, but not as well publicized as now.  I was too scared to call them.  This being the era before the internet.  You may be saying "But I am not Catholic."  They will help you anyways.  And there are many other adoption services that are not Catholic or non Christian at all; please check here adoption services.  When I suggested during the "family intervention" about adoptions through Catholic Social Services I was told "But our family is not Catholic.  We wouldn't want Catholics to raise the child."  Or something like that.  Not calling them is the biggest regret I will have for the rest of my life.  I would rather wonder about my "good little Catholic" daughter and what happened to her and how she is doing now than knowing that she was denied a life for the "family image." 
*If you are reading this and knowing someone in an unexpected pregnancy who may be feeling the pressure of abortion or she is contemplating it herself you may be feeling discouraged if you are her lone voice.  Please, please do not give up.  Give her all the pro-life information you can.

A Letter to my Mother

I have been going through some issues lately.  My anxiety seems to come and go.  Some days I am totally fine.  Others I am a total basket case.  During the "basket days" I can go from lethargy to anger and back and forth.  One thing going on is my relationship with my mother.  We have never really been estranged, but more strained.  I have tried to open up communications, at first I thought she was understanding, but I feel it is more she waits for me to show vulnerability to attack me while I am wounded.  The following is the first letter/email of my "coming out" in regards to the anxiety about the abortions so many years ago.  I did not mention my personal abortions, just alluding to them.  The letter has been slightly edited to eliminate names and/or locations that would identify me.

Hi Mom,

I will be going to grandma's on December...Christmas. 

I am thinking about moving back (to hometown area).  And I know I have the house and everything.  I really appreciate everything you have done.  But I am just not happy here anymore.  I don't think I can really be happy anywhere.  But I believe I could be happier (there).  I would like to find a Christ centered Bible believing church.  One that believes and teaches that all of the Bible is truth.  Somewhere that has people of all walks of life.  I think I can only find that (there). Plus I can be closer to grandma.I just want to get rid of most everything that is not needed.  I have been hoarding to replace many emptinesses in my life.  I have now realized that none of those are going to fill any of the voids in my life.  I have been feeling this way since March of this year (2014).  Perhaps even longer.  But I think now I am just starting to realize the causes of my emptiness.

I will be turning 40 soon.  I feel as though so much of my life has been wasted.on petty pursuits.  And what do I have to show for it?  Cremated cats on the fireplace shelf and one living cat.  As much as I love (current cat) and the other cats before him, they are not a real family.  It may be too late to have biological children of my own.  But it is not too late to possibly find a man who is kind, Christian, could be a provider and protector, believes in a fidelity minded marriage, etc.  And for kids there could always be adoption. 

In some ways it may be good that I was never in a location where I could meet any men.  I have not really liked myself much for the past almost 20 years.  And creepy guys can sense that and "go in for the kill."  I have spent too much time with a slight man-hating personality.  Telling myself I don't want or need some stinkin man and have kids.  I have convinced myself I don't like kids.  All in order to protect myself and my emotions.  Yet kids seem to like me.

Also I would like to become a pro-life advocate.  And for me, I think I could only do that (locale).  There is actually a pro-life coordinator in (this town).  I don't think they do much except for an annual banquet.  Perhaps they join the pro-lifers in (that other town) for things.  I know this is something we don't see eye to eye on.  But please understand that this is an issue that means a lot to me. 
The pro-life movement is not all about "whackos" standing in front of Planned Parenthood shouting at and shaming pregnant women, calling them sinners, heathens, sluts, telling them they are going to hell or whatever.  Yes, there are some like that.  But that is a small minority.  There are probably more whackos in the pro-choice movement than in the pro-life camp.  Advocates help women in crisis pregnancies in many ways.  Give them information on alternatives to abortion, guide them to agencies that can help them find housing; nutrition; medical care; taking care of basic bills, online and phone counseling.  Talk to them outside of the clinics with care and compassion and a listening ear without shaming them.
And no, no one is influencing my views.  I have read up on the information.  I have read stories of regret, some from women as old as grandma (who are still hurting).  And many of those who had the "procedure" done during the 40's, 50's or 60s had it done in a back room during off hours of a general physician.  I have seen the horror stories of filthy clinics.  And deaths still happen despite "legalization."  Women who get infections due to carelessness from the actions of the clinics that never receive unannounced inspections from a local health inspector.  Women whose organs are ruptured from the procedures.  Women who become infertile.  Women who have miscarriages due to damage of the cervix.  Women who neglect the children they had before or after the abortions and lack any emotional intimacy with husbands or boyfriends.  Pictures of post aborted babies.  No matter how you slice it (no pun intended) it is not the same as "removing a tumor."  A tumor is not supposed to be inside of a body.  A baby is.  The pregnancy may not have been planned, but in general it is a part of human nature.  There is no perfect world.  Even when the parents are married and purposefully attempt to become pregnant.

Anyways, I didn't mean to write so much.  And I ask that you do your own research and come to your own conclusion to see if I am "being brainwashed" or if I have come to a logical conclusion.  If you have any questions on more of why I am pro-life and/or information please ask, but do not attack.

Love,
(Your Daughter)

The Yellow Onesie

Last I finished off with Damn! That Hurt!, the telling of my actual abortion experience.  Now onto the aftermath.  The aftermath is not just a one time incident.  I have since learned that the aftermath is something that has been ongoing in my life for almost 20 years.  Having come to the realization of my abortion; looking back I can see how the planned death of my child affected me throughout my life.  But for now, I will just talk about the immediately following aftermath.

To read previous posts leading up to this one click the links below. 

I Knew, Almost Soon After Conception
"Matt" Didn't Care
Her Views Turned on a Dime
Damn! That Hurt!

After a few days I returned from my mother's either I called "Matt" or he called me.  I did not tell him about the abortion.  He came over to my apartment.  We talked.  He showed me a onesie he bought for our baby, the baby that no longer exists.  It was a typical yellow non gender onesie.  While much of my memory is fuzzy, this is one of the exact things I remember.  I remember exactly the layout of my old apartment.  I remember where in the apartment I was sitting.  I was sitting on "Matt's" lap and told him I had a "miscarriage."  He cried.  Or so I thought.  It could have been crocodile tears.  I am not sure.  I do know that I was unable to cry.  I just put my head upon his shoulder. 
He never asked about any of the details.  Then I was glad, because I didn't want to make anything up nor was I ready to tell him the truth.  But looking back, I wonder did he suspect?  Did he even actually care?
I had a horrible sinking feeling inside.  Hurt because of the abortion.  Felt bad because of lying to him.  Angry because of all that time I was pregnant he never acknowledged that I had a child inside me.  And now that she was gone he acknowledges the situation?!  Where was he when I was pregnant?  Why wasn't he "fighting" for me and our child? 
I did have sex with him that night.  I have since found out that women are told not to have sex for at least 2 weeks after the abortion.  I was never told that.  I was given antibiotics and instructions, but not the no having sex part.  But unless it wasn't written down for me, if I was only told verbally I probably wasn't paying attention in the state of mind I was in. 
"Matt" did find the antibiotics.  I told him I had to take those because of the miscarriage.  Next day or two he told me his sister told him that the antibiotics are only for abortions.  Yeah, after the baby's gone is when he tells any of his family members.  I insisted that it was a miscarriage I had.  After all, my own mother convinced my that abortion and miscarriage are basically the same thing.  Right?  We didn't fight or anything.  He just dropped the subject. 

Then came having to tell my best friend.  This is the friend from the Christian school who did the book report about abortion.  I called and told her that I was no longer going to get married.  And that I had a miscarriage.  She didn't press me on details.  Just gave me sympathy.  I felt worse lying to her than I did to "Matt."  Why didn't I say something to her, before the abortion?  Maybe she would have been able to help me or find someone who could?

Damn! That Hurt!

More of my story, previous posts in chronological order;

I Knew, Almost Soon After Conception
"Matt" Didn't Care
Her Views Turned on a Dime

This is probably the scariest part of my story in regards to the first abortion.  I have told of all the events leading up to this moment. 

The following may contain "colorful language" and graphic subject matter.  This is also where memories seem to be the haziest.

After relenting to the having the abortion done my mother came to pick me up to take me to the town she was living in.  See Her Views Turned on a Dime for more on my mother's change of heart in regards to my pregnancy.  I do not remember much about the ride to her apartment.  I do recall her "reassuring talk" about the daughter of one of her friends from work who had an abortion.  When I asked my mother "what if this is the only chance I could have a baby" she responded with telling me about the girl's abortion.  She had said that when the girl's sister was pregnant she told her mother, my mother's work friend, that the baby she was carrying could be "the spirit of her sister's aborted baby."  I have recently been seeing this whole "spirit of the aborted baby come back in a new baby" sort of thing in a few "words of comfort" stories.  I don't think I actually bought it then, and I sure as hell don't buy it now!  But at that time, I was grabbing at straws and trying to believe anything while nothing seemed believable.  S
he also told me that I would have plenty of chances to have more children and would be married and settle down.  How did she know that?  Did she really believe what she was saying?  The future is no guarantee.

I do not know if "Matt" knew about me visiting my mother or not.  I may have told him, I may have not.  The next day we went to the abortion clinic.  I do not know if the trauma has blocked out my memory or if I had been drugged, possibly to not notice any protestors or just basic avoid backing out.  Either way, I do not recall the drive to the clinic.  Though I do know exactly where it was.  The locale was inside an older plaza type building.  It is now another business, with a Planned Parenthood across the street in a newer building.  I do not recall the walking in.  I do not recall anything about the waiting area.  I do not know if I sat in the waiting area or if I was ushered directly into the "procedure" room.  I do not know if there were other people in the waiting area.  I do not remember filling out the paper work.  I do not know if my mother stayed in the waiting room or not.

The only time I was told anything about what would happen was in the "procedure" room.  I was told by someone I assumed was a nurse that they would be applying local anesthesia to my cervix.  Then use a few instruments to dilate the cervix. Then use a vacuum aspirator to pull the baby out.  They made it sound like the baby would be pulled out in one piece.  Not that that makes it any better, just less gory than the reality of it being pulled out in pieces.  That seems about right.  I don't think I was really listening.  My body was on the exam table, but I have no clue where the hell my mind was. I do not recall actually seeing the instruments or given many details.
I do not recall when the doctor was in the room.  He may have been there as soon as I arrived in the room or later after the anesthesia.  Or not there at all.  I really don't know. 
They told me it wouldn't hurt a bit and it would just be a pinch.  LIARS!  It freakin hurt like hell!!!  I literally felt like every damn organ was being sucked out!  It was at that moment that I decided there is no God.  The moment of my rejection of God is only a revelation I have only realized until now. 

I must have gotten up off the table.  That or I floated to the doorway.  Either option is a possibility.  The nurse type lady told me that I would need to sit in a recovery room.  I had horrible cramping in my abdomen, bowels and rectal area.  The best way to describe it was like my butthole was getting ready to release an atomic fart, but something was obstructing it.  I recall making a dumb joke that I wasn't sure if I wanted to puke or take a dump.  That is the last thing I remember.  Perhaps I used the restroom, perhaps I didn't.  I do not even remembering being in the recovery room.  I do not know if I slept, read a magazine, watched TV or stared at a wall until my mother picked me up.  I do not remember her taking me from the clinic.

I do not recall how long I was at my mother's apartment.  I don't know if I slept or what I did during that time.  The only thing I clearly remember after that was going to a Wal-Mart with my mother.  We were in line waiting to purchase our items.  Behind us was a couple about my age.  They had a baby in a stroller with them.  The baby was crying.  Basic fussing, like babies do, not causing too much of a scene.  I was about ready to burst into tears.  I asked my mother for the car keys to wait in the car.
I bolted out of that store so fast.  The moment I got in the car I bawled like never before.  Tears streaming down my face and hyperventilating in my breathing.  My mother got in the car.  Asked me what was wrong.  Really?  She couldn't put the two together?  I said something to the effect of "I killed my baby" or "I will never see my baby" or both of those things.  Her response?  Oh, that's all. I thought maybe the baby was annoying you and something about I did the right thing, it was no big deal, I would get over it, etc.  Then and there I decided that the only thing to do was to be numb about the situation.

The aftermath...To be continued...

What Were Her True Thoughts?

After finishing writing the Her Views Turned on a Dime, in regards to my mother's coercing of the abortion, I figured I needed to write the following before I continue any further.  I have a few questions running through my mind.

I am wondering what my mother's true feelings were when she found out I was pregnant.  Was she truly supportive of the pregnancy and my choice to keep the baby, at first?  Did she want me to have an abortion from the start?  Was her "support" a rouse to relax me and gain my trust?  Was she talking to "pro-choice" persons as soon as she found out I was pregnant?  Was she waiting for the "right timing" to spring forth coercing me into the abortion?  Had she been given talking points from Planned Parenthood or another abortion center about how to coerce me?  What did they tell her, if so?  Did they tell her I may object?  And how to counter my objections?  If there were crisis pregnancy centers at the time did they tell her?  If so, did they tell her how to avoid having me considering contacting them?   Did they tell her that I may bring up the suggestion of adoption?
Did they give her all the information in regards to abortion?  Yet, tell her to avoid any of the "grisly" details?  Or did they give her the "cute little phrases" and tired old tripe talking points?  My mother should have known the details.  As she had been a hospital nurse before I was born, along with working in a doctor's office after my parents' divorce.  My mother wasn't clueless about all the details involved in pregnancy.
Of course women who have been pregnant know the basic details about babies, pregnancy and birth.  But she knew the ins and outs details of the biology and terminology from conception to birth.  She still had her biology books from nursing school in the early 70's on her book shelf.  Along with books with updated info, from the early to mid 80's.
Did she know that complications, needless complications, can result from abortion?  Did she know that women still die from "legal" abortions?  Did she know that babies get torn to bits while being sucked through the vacuum?  Did she know that the abortion vacuum is 29 times more powerful than a household vacuum?  Did she know that damage can be done to the body; i.e. cervix, uterus?  Did she know that such damage can cause miscarriages in future pregnancies due to weak cervix muscles?  Did she know that overall infertility can be caused due to the damage?  Did she know that women who have had abortion can have a higher risk of breast cancer?  Did she know that women who have had abortions have a higher risk of suicide than any other groups of women?  Did she know that many, if not most, women who have aborted babies have regrets, whether soon after or many years down the road?  Despite what she told me during the coercion?  Did she not know that messing with a pregnant woman's body is damaging and not right, along with being very invasive?
I really would truly like to believe that she really was supportive of me and my child, her grandchild, at the beginning.  But it does make one wonder how she could switch views over something as trite as a dumb old unpaid speeding ticket!

Her Views Turned on a Dime

Continuation of my abortion story starting at I Knew, Almost Soon After Conception and "Matt" Didn't Care

I have been debating as to how I want to portray this part of the story, as my mother and I are sort of on a reconciliation of sorts in regards to the abortion.  No, she does not know about the blog.  While I do not want to portray her in a bad light, I do want to be able to tell the truth about the circumstances leading to said abortion.

As had been stated before in the I Knew, Almost Soon After Conception post, my mother had been upset with the premarital pregnancy, but seemed to be understanding and willing to be supportive.  Or so I thought.  As had been previously said, she was with me during the ultra sound.  I don't recall too much about being at the ultrasound center.  I do not remember mine or hers reaction upon seeing little Anastasia.  That was the name I had planned for my baby if she were a girl.  Years later, it was a dream that told me she was a girl.  To recap, I was 6 weeks along at the time.  I think we were both a little shell shocked.  We had a conversation in the car.  I can't recall all what it was about, mostly how she would be a grandma and that I had a baby inside me.  But there was no talk of abortion.

Here again is where my memories are fuzzy.  During the short time of pregnancy, after the ultrasound, I had made at least one overnight visit to my mother's in another town.  Possibly twice.  During phone calls I would claim how scared I was that eventually I would be pushing a large baby through my female area.  She reassured me that my body would naturally adjust to the birthing process.  And that despite any pain it would be made up for after I saw and held my baby.  She would prepare me for the stages of pregnancy in "pep talks."  What it would be like to feel the baby kick and move.  How my body would change during the preparations.  Helped me to be comfortable when I visited.

Warning: Graphic subject matter ahead
I had had a fight or two with "Matt" in that time.  One was in regards to him wanting oral sex.  While I am not judging anyone's choices, I do believe that both persons need to be willing to consent on what makes them comfortable.  And some men can approach it in a rather white trash Jerry Springer sort of way, and that was "Matt's" technique.  Some men can give it an air of intimacy.
I called my mom and was crying.  Perhaps it was the hormones and being sensitive.  I don't know.  She showed compassion.  Even saying that caution needs to be taken when it is the man to the woman whileshe is pregnant.  I don't know how true that is.  Hey, Google it!  Anyhoo, I would take this as her being concerned about the safety of my baby. 

As time would have it, my mother came to visit me one day.  She decided to check my mail.  I had received a letter from DMV.  My license had been temporarily revoked due to unpaid speeding tickets.  The revoction was for about 30 days.  She blew up.  Told me I was irresponsible and that if I couldn't pay a speeding ticket how was I going to be able to take care of a baby?  How would I get around without a car and be able to take the baby places with me?  She told me I was going to have to have an abortion.  Over a stupid suspension, that would have been reinstated after 30 days, before the baby was even born.  I was crying and upset.
Then she had me get in the car and we were going to go to my grandma's.  She told my grandma and my aunt who was living there at the time I was going to have an abortion.  We argued I was telling them I didn't want to have the abortion.  I was giving her reasons why not.  She was giving reasons why.  My grandma and aunt were parroting her.  I was finding out about two previous abortions in the family.  One was an aunt on her mother's side.  The other was one of my aunts, father's sister.  And of course how they are just fine now.  She was comparing abortion to natural miscarriages.  How miscarriages are natures way of ridding the body of a baby that can't develop properly.  And abortion is basically the same thing, just the mother is choosing that she won't be able to take care of the baby properly.  Or some mumbo jumbo like that.  I was in tears, feeling trapped.  I literally felt like jumping out of my own skin, with no where to turn.  She had me call "Matt" and break up with him.
I don't recall my exact wording, but having born in 1974 after Roe vs. Wade made abortion "legal," I asked why didn't she abort me.  Her response was that she was married during my conception, wanted me and loved me before I was born.  Really!?  Because I wasn't married and didn't plan the pregnancy that I wasn't expected to want or love my child?  Very telling, as this must have been her own view of my child, her grandchild! 
Another "point" of hers was that the child could look like "Matt," especially if he were a boy.  And that every time I looked at him/her I would think of "Matt" and be bitter.  Looking back, I now see that maybe my mother projected her views of my father onto me while I was growing up.
I had attended a non denominational Christian high school, before graduating.  They were pro-life in their teaching.  They didn't give all the details abort abortion, but I did pick up some lessons and info.  I had repeated some of what I had learned.  Then she got mad and told me she wished she never had sent me there.  And that if she had known they were telling me "that drivel" she would have pulled me out of the school.  I was telling her that this child could grow up to be someone like a doctor or lawyer or someone who could make the world a better place.  She said I was "romanticizing" the whole thing and maybe she would grow up retarded or defective. 
I was suggesting adoption.  She didn't like that idea.  She did not want my child to grow up with another family.  Basically, if she couldn't stay in our family she couldn't be in another family.  Telling me she could be abused.  I had told her that there is such a thing as open adoption where the mother can still be in the child's life.  She told me it would be too hard to give birth then have to give her up.  She said I would be attached to her as soon as she was born.  That I would always wonder about her and what she was doing.
If I had an abortion I would forget about it and never worry.  Gave the tired old tripe heard from the pro-abortion side.  Almost as if she were reading from a Planned Parenthood script.  It wouldn't hurt at all.  They just stick a small vacuum inside the vaginal area and pull the baby out.  It's only a clump of cells.  It's only the size of a dime.  She wouldn't feel a thing.  She wouldn't be harmed.  By this time I would have been about 8 or 9 weeks along.  As I have later found out, she would have had her small physical features about her.  But of course my mom didn't want me to know that she had arms, legs, fingers, toes and a developing brain.
She gave me a weeks time to "decide."  In that short time I was alone with my thoughts.  Deep down, I didn't want to do it.  But I didn't know what to do.  I knew about adoption.  I knew at least one place name was Catholic Social Services.  Oh, yeah, about that; my mother's attitude was that since our family wasn't Catholic then my child shouldn't be Catholic.  I had no idea who to call.  I didn't know who to turn to for help.  Sad thing is, my best friend at the time, who was going to stand up with me at the wedding to "Matt," had attended the same Christian high school I had.  She even did a book report about abortion for one of the classes.  I was too much of a coward to pick up the phone and call, her or an adoption center.  Which is why in this day and age I am so glad for the internet.  It may be too late for me.  But it is not too late for a woman in a crisis pregnancy.  It is so easy for her to Google places that can help and if she is afraid to call she can still email such agencies that will help.  Since my pregnancy was in the mid nineties, I do not know if there were crisis pregnancy centers at the time.  So I did not even think to open a phone book and look for such a thing

In my "deciding" time my mother had called my father.  Just a note, they were divorced.  She was probably thinking he was going to convince me to see her views.  When actually it was the opposite.  He was on his third marriage.  They were living in another state, with many other states in between.  Yeah, I didn't have much of a roll model for marriage and men/women relationships.  I had a half brother from this union.  Instead of coercing me, my father offered for him and his wife to adopt my child after she was born.  My brother would have been a toddler after my child was born.  Both my brother and child could have sibling figures to grow up with.
My mother didn't like this idea either.  Even though if things had changed within the following seven months circumstances could change between me and "Matt."  And if that were the case "Matt" and I would be able to raise the child on our own and be out of the adoption deal with my father easier than outside the family adoption.  My mother told me that I would feel bad seeing my father raise my child when he wasn't there for me growing up.  True, he wasn't there much for me growing up.  But everyone is allowed redemption.  Still would have been better than abortion.
Eventually, I relented and told my mother something like, "fine!  I will have the abortion to make you happy."  Her response was "it's not for me.  It's for you to decide."  What!?  If it was for me to decide then she would have "allowed" for ALL options and supported me to help with ways to find adoption agencies and talked over how the adoption services work.  That, that is true choice!  But alas, it was never to be.

To be continued...

Playing with Spiders and Snakes!

Spiders and snakes are gross, icky and scary!  Am I right?  Why in the heck am I writing about spiders and snakes on a pro-life post abortive blog?  Doesn't make sense does it?

Here is how it makes sense.  Being post abortive means I need to come to terms with the events of both abortions.  This is a scary leap.  I have been reading Kindle e-books written by women who have had abortions.  Ah, technology.  Purchase it online and receive on your mobile device faster than a meal from McDs.  Following pro-life pages on Facebook.  Reading pro-life blogs, websites and news.  Watching YouTube videos.  And of course, following Twitter.

So here I am reading my Twitter newsfeed.  Seeing gruesome stories about abortion.  Reading about unethical "doctors" being caught doing bad stuff to patients victims and/or having unsanitary clinics.  Seeing pictures of abortion "procedures" and post abortive babies.  These pictures are gross.

So why am I doing this?  Why would I subject myself to such sights?  It is almost like staring at a car wreck.  You know you shouldn't look.  You don't want to look.  But you do.  I believe this is part of my healing process.  For so long the memories didn't seem real.  This makes it real.  As painful as it may be, it needs to be made real and confronted.  I have heard that people with phobias need to be confronted directly with their fears.  Whatever they are afraid of they need to touch it, see it, hear it, or be near it.  Confronting the abortion issue is to me what handling icky things like spiders and snakes are to those with phobias.

"Matt" Didn't Care

In continuation from a previous post; I Knew, Almost Soon After Conception

After telling "Matt" that I was pregnant he didn't seem to care one way or the other.  He said something to the effect of "Well my sister is a nurse.  She knows of ways to take care of that."  What?  I took it to mean doing something at home to cause a miscarriage.  I told him NO!  Then in a jerky sort of way he said "I was just kidding" and said he would help to take care of the child.

I asked him if he was going to "make an honest woman of me."  He said he would.  OK, so not quite the romantic proposal little girls dream of, but I thought it meant he would marry me.  Big misunderstanding on my part.  Like most women who are planning on getting married I bought a bridal magazine.  Looked at dresses.  Talked to my mom.  Was focusing on choosing an empire style gown.  My best friend at the time had agreed to stand up with me.
Called the church that I had been baptized at, where my parents were married and where my grandparents were married.  One of the closest dates that would have been available on my grandparent's anniversary.  The baby would have only been a couple weeks old or a couple weeks before birth for that date.  Again, as I had stated previously, my memory is foggy.  I am just guestimating according to the rememberances of when I would have become pregnant. 

At some point after all this was done, probably just a couple days after telling him, "Matt" saw the magazines on my coffee table.  He laughed.  Asked what that was all about.  I said "we are getting married aren't we?".  He said yeah.  But maybe when the baby was a couple years old.  I was hurt.  I had just assumed he meant  that he would marry me before the baby was born.  Then we got into a fight.  Arguing about how the baby would be raised, whether we were going to be living separately while raising the baby.

We did decide we would get married before the baby was born.  I know, not quite the way to get started.  But he didn't want a big wedding because he had been married before and didn't see the point of having a large wedding.   Again, another argument.  I didn't want a big huge affair.  But I did want the traditional church wedding with the white dress.

I can not recall how long I was pregnant for before the abortion.  It could have been only a week, two weeks, or three after finding out I was pregnant.  I was about six weeks along when I had the ultrasound.  In my mind's memory everything seemed at once a short time and a long time.  I do recall my mother and I telling my grandmother and aunt.  Spending a few pregnancy days with "Matt."  Visiting my mother who lived in another town.  I was once at his house while he was talking to his parents on the phone.  He told them we were going to get married.  On his side of the conversation he said "No, she's not pregnant."  There was one day when we went to his sister's house to see his nieces and the puppies their dog had given birth too.  He told me not to say anything about being pregnant to anyone. 

To be continued...

The Memories are Somewhat Foggy and Hazy

I am just starting to write my memories, as I have only recently been confronted with them.  As in with the previous post, I found in the timeline of my memories that I could not pinpoint exact times for certain events, mostly just in seasonal and roundabout time frames.  That is also going to happen in future posts.  Some aspects of the pregnancy and abortions, along with events following and related to said abortions, I have absolute clear memories.  Other pieces, kind of sort of.  Then some things, drawing total blanks.  Please bear with me during the "foggy" parts.