Moving...from Blogger to WordPress!

New location to read Abortion Sucks - https://abortiontotallysucks.wordpress.com

For long-term readers, you may have noticed a change in the visual aspect of the blog. I had planned on changing up the theme a bit. This current one was the best I could find from Blogger. I found a better theme from WordPress. I have used WordPress previously. I like it for the visuals, more available options, ease of use.
I have been working on the new blog most of the day. It's been a while since I have used WordPress, but I was able to pick it up again quite easily. Adopting a similar look as this site. Adding relevant pro-life links to the sidebar. Was able to move all previous Blogger posts to the WordPress site. Will be adding more to the visuals.
I will be keeping this site up for a while. All new posts will be available for viewing at the new site posted above. If you subscribe to this site please change to subscribe to the new site.

And That's OK

So the other day one of my coworkers dropped me off at home. A van for a home improvement company for the neighbor's project was parked in front of my house. I just walked around it, through the snow in my yard. One of the workers was coming out of the van. He said "sorry." I responded back with "that's OK." And I meant it. Didn't bother me.

I'm sure most of us respond with "that's OK" when someone responds with "sorry" over something that could be seen as a mild inconvenience, whether it really is or not. Whether we perceive it to be an inconvenience or not.

I usually respond with "that's OK," whether or not I think it is OK. Most the time I am not bothered. But even when I am bothered I go to the basic default of "it's OK."
This especially before I experienced the breakdown. I was a complete and total emotionless doormat.
Especially around men. And most of these men were selfish jerks. No, I do not mean most men are selfish jerks. Those who I allowed in my life were. There are some reasons I allowed jerkbutt men in my life. But not on a conscience level. I know the reasons for it and I am working on that.
They would do some shit that would wrong me. If they actually did apologize I would tell them "that's OK." But it really wasn't. I would be seething inside while pretending I wasn't bothered.

In my current phase of healing there is another type of saying "it's OK." It is reminding me that having not so perfect moments or thoughts are OK.

Some days I have anxiety - and that's OK
Some days I think about my daughters - and that's OK
     Some days I wonder what life would have been like with them - and that's OK
     Some days I wonder who they would be if they were alive - and that's OK
I wonder how to become normal - and that's OK
     I wonder if I ever will be normal - and that's OK
     I wonder if I ever was normal - and that's OK
I still talk to myself, in regards to the abortions - and that's OK.
     I say I miss my daughters - and that's OK
     I say I want my daughters back - and that's OK
     I say you killed my daughters - and that's OK
     Sometimes simply saying my daughters, without anything specific - and that's OK

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.

I am Responsible

I am sure to some readers the writing of my abortion experience may seem as though I am bragging about it. Or maybe that I am not taking responsibility for my part. Maybe I am placing blame on others.

It is a delicate balancing act for me. I do take responsibility for my part. But that is just it, my part. I was the one who was pregnant. I was the last in line to choose to have my children sucked out of me. I should have stood up for the sake of my daughters. The blame for the second abortion lies more on part than the first. That is a hard reality to take, but I take it. In the middle of the night I find myself saying aloud "I killed my children." Completely audible.

Am I the only one to blame? No. When the first pregnancy was confirmed I may not have been elated, but abortion sure as hell didn't come across my mind! There were others who led, maybe even manipulated me into relenting to the abortion. "Matt" for his non committal attitude. My mother for the turn around in support. My grandmother for the deception.

The common consensus is that people need to take the blame for their own actions. Yes, that is true. While the woman is the ultimate decider in whether to have the abortion; those who influence, coerce, or even at times force her, should accept their culpability in the death of the woman's child.
A few days ago I did a Google search about the statistics regarding the percentage of women who are coerced into abortion. Many websites and pro-life books state around 64%. Personally, I would believe the statistics to be at a much higher rate. From a website, The UnChoice, is this;

 Up to 64 percent of abortions involve feelings of being pressured to have an abortion, and other factors, such as rushed, deceptive, negligent or conflicted or profit-driven counseling, can also have a significant and often synergistic coercive effect.⁴ Furthermore, based on even the most minimal standards of care and human rights, such assembly-line care is exploitative at best and a recognized human rights abuse, even under liberal abortion laws.

Full article of How Common is Coercion, here.

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.)

Sewing the Seams of Healing

Way back in April of this year I wrote about my teddy bear with the seam rip in the neck. He's been fixed! Probably about a couple weeks ago. I hand stitched the seams together. It was rather bittersweet while I was sewing. There was a feeling of happiness that he would be all fixed up and better. Yet, I couldn't help but feel a bit of sadness. I couldn't pinpoint the cause or why.

Teddy bear all fixed and better!

Perhaps my bittersweet feelings are due to my own broken seams. My broken and busted seams. Yes, after 20 years I have finally pinpointed the hurt and despair caused by the abortions. And really, knowing the cause is not only the first step in healing, but it is also three quarters or more of the healing. Once the cause of deep seated old hurt is located, the healing can be begin.

Not saying it is sunshine, lollipops, rainbows, roses, and pink unicorns flying out my butt. In fact more like a Generation X kid scraping their knee and grandpa putting Mercurochrome on it. All the while telling you "it won't hurt. I used this as a kid, fought in World War II and I'm still alive. You'll survive." Yeah, no. It stings. It stings like hell.
Back to the healing. That first moment of realizing what has been "wrong with you" for all those years is a definite sting. You could be in the middle of the most mundane household chore or running errands and bam! out of nowhere the memory hits. Smacks you up like you have been smacked in the face by an anvil. Or at least that's how it happened for me.

As you can see from the photo above of the teddy bear (still no name for him). He still has a few places that need some more repairs. Those are his scars. Those scars give him character. They show the many years of love. I too have scars. Perhaps my scars give me character too. But those scars sure as hell ain't from love. Lust, maybe, but most definitely not love.

I have more thoughts on my healing process, but I can't really bring them to focus and arrange in a cohesive manner. Plus it might run off to be a bit off topic from this post. I will add a part two or three or four or more to this. Let the healing begin!

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.

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!

Do You Know Me?

This is a post I have been having bopping about in my head for a few days.  It could have a few multiple connections to it.  Then in an email exchange my dummy self told my mother about this blog, just not the title or link.  But more about that later.

I try to stay as anonymous online as possible in regards to the abortions.  When writing I try to be as basic as possible while trying to avoid anyone recognizing me.  I make sure that no one knows where I live or where the abortions took place.  I avoid using names in any way.  There are only a rare few couple of persons who know me and this blog, simultaneously.  Telling others of my abortions is something I am unable to do.  Though I am able to speak of it and my thoughts "behind the safety of a computer."
A friend who is the administrator to their church's Facebook page expresses an interest in linking my blog to one of the page's postings.  The selfLESS side of me would allow it,if it would help someone who has had an abortion, those wondering about the life of a post-abortion person and/or someone in a crisis pregnancy.  The selfISH side of me knows that many of my friends read that page.  While I do try to be as careful as possible not to be recognized, I am still afraid that there may be that one minute thing that a friend could pick up on.
I am many persons to many people.  Those who know of my Anastasia and Hanelore account don't know my personal likes and dislikes or basic bio info.  I have a Facebook account on my real name.  Those people know my likes and dislikes along with basic bio info.  And even though they know I am pro-life and post about pro-life news and issues, they do not know about my abortions.  
Sometimes I wonder if my family, friends and co-workers even know me.

Even as myself, I feel as though others don't really know me.  In this fast paced world, we as a society don't take the time to know others.  All we want to do is make small talk with others.  We judge others.  We make up stories about others.  It's easier than to talk and listen to those who are hurting.

We see so many people around us.  Perhaps they seem fine, perhaps not.  Abortion is legal.  Yet there is shame with it.  No one wants to admit to having one.  Maybe it is because deep down, legal or not, our consciousnesses tell us and know it is a sin.
Perhaps the girl standing behind you at the grocery store has had an abortion.  What about the checkout girl at the grocery store you see once or twice a week during your shopping.  You talk to her about her cats, her home, her kids, her spouse, her parents, etc.  But you don't know the pain she may be hiding.  I am in no way advocating that you ask her about her personal details.  Just saying that many people are hiding hurts that many of us could not imagine.

It is not just about abortion either.  Some of it could be sins that the person was directly involved in.  Maybe it was something beyond their control that the sin was committed against them.  Somebody told them they were in the wrong and they feel guilt for no reason.

One of the things that bugs me is middle age men who say to women, "Why don't you smile?".  And yes, it is almost always middle age men that do that.  But not all middle age men do that.  I mean, REALLY?!  They don't even know me!  Be they customers from my job, someone in line at the store, someone from church that I don't even have regular conversations with, or what have you.  I always want to ask, "do you know me?".
That's the thing with modern society.  Everyone is expected to smile, smile, smile!  For no reason.  It would be one thing for someone to walk around with a constant frown.  Even then still, if you don't know the person, leave them alone.  There life is none of your business!  Can't people just have a neutral look on their face without someone bothering them?

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.