Maudlin...

Well, sometimes life is UP UP UP...and then, poof...it's down.

Tonight one of my oldest daughter's friends posted her distaste for the Romney/Ryan ticket.  And we all know, I love a good political post.  Her dislike for Romney/Ryan stems from one area, and one area only....the area of funding for Planned Parenthood, the potential of overturning Roe vs. Wade, and what she perceives as uneven earning within their staff.

In reality, the last point is entirely incorrect, but what really got my mood was the point about planned parenthood.  You see...this young lady is one of my 18-year-old's best friends.  When I was their age, I was pregnant with my daughter.  How did I find out I was pregnant?  By going to a Planned Parenthood office in Minnesota.

I have to thank God...I was so blown away by the concept that I was pregnant, that I couldn't even function.  Things had been bizarre with my cycle at that point in time, and I had been under an enormous amount of stress (even for an 18-year-old).  Because I couldn't pinpoint a date of my last period starting in order to determine how pregnant I was, they kept impressing on me that I needed to IMMEDIATELY schedule an abortion (with the 'if you want to' thrown in as an afterthought) because the time in which I could do that could be running out.

I left that office shell shocked - but I do remember one key thing.  It was the first time I had ever encountered anti-abortion protesters, and the horrific pictures of aborted fetuses they had on their signs.

I would like to say, I saw those and vowed that day that I would never do that...but aside from just being somewhat aghast (and somewhat annoyed) at the signs, their message didn't even sink through the fog that had overpowered my ability to think.  I was pregnant.  I had no idea.  I didn't know what to do.  What would my parents say?  How would I tell them?  What would my ex-boyfriend (because we had already broken up by that time) say?

I can't even tell you why - other than that it was a God thing - but the idea of aborting that pregnancy was NEVER an option.  It just never, ever was.  When I did eventually tell my dad, there was a group phone call involving both of my brothers, my stepmother, and my dad - all of whom pressured me to abort the pregnancy.  ALL OF THEM.  (Notable exception - my mother - who was not on the call.)  I had no idea what I was going to do - I didn't want to be a mom....but abortion was just never an option.

I praise God for that.  I really, really do.  Because it would have been so easy.  NO ONE would have judged me.  Everyone who knew supported that option.

But I am so thankful I didn't choose it.

I wish I could say that remained the case, but it didn't.  When my daughter was 2, and I was still tilting at windmills and trying to figure out who the heck I was, I made the grand choice to move in with a boyfriend whose faithfulness and ability to actually BE in a relationship was iffy at best.  He wanted a baby of his own.  He was determined to have one. He was seeing me (mostly), and at some point, it became painfully obvious that if I didn't get pregnant with his baby, he would go with the next most likely candidate.

I am aghast at the paragraph above.  How was I EVER that person?  Weak.  Lonely.  No self-esteem.

So I did. I got pregnant for him.  I already had a 2 year old, was going to school full time, did not have a job, and had NO money.  Our life...was awful.  As soon as I got pregnant, we got an apartment, and I had visions of this grand domestic fairy tale.

It was the worst roach-infested, drunk-riddled, trash-smelling, disgusting place I have ever lived in my life.  And the pregnancy?  It was horrific.  It was still early - but I had nearly every horrific pregnancy experience possible.  That pregnancy was so different from the other two that I have always believed, it was a son.

A month into that living experience, when the baby was approximately 6 weeks old, my boyfriend (shock of shocks) hadn't stayed faithful, there was no food other than the Kix and milk WIC provided, and the pre-cooked hamburger my boyfriend's grandmother gave us, I woke up with roaches crawling on me.  I was horrified.  My 2 year old daughter kept talking to me about the 'ghosts' in her room, that flew around the ceiling...and something in me snapped.  I had thrown up the entire contents of my stomach just that morning all over the entryway of our apartment.  I scrubbed it down, with the various other unseemly residents glaring at me, as more waves of nausea crept over me.  I was 20 years old.  I was now failing most of my classes.  I had no money, no food, and no hope.

And in that moment, I made a decision that will forever change my view on abortion.  It went from being a RIGHT I felt we have as women, to being a CHOICE I had made and regretted almost instantly - when it was too late to go back.

For the first few years, I noted each 'date' that went by...the date I knew I became pregnant, the date I had the abortion, my due date...each would go by and the sick feeling returned.

When I first started at the church I attend now, that was the biggest thing that I had to process through - that God would forgive me even that...how could that be?  I remember struggling with it so much...and I think at the time even talking to our senior pastor about it, as he and another pastor led the class.

The thing is...at 18 or 20 I just wasn't able to see that far out.  I wasn't able to get past the misery I was in at the moment, to see what COULD be.  The baby, in my head, even though I had a 2-year-old, wasn't a BABY...it was a thing that was making my life a living hell and limiting my choices.  It hurts to say that, but I know in my head, that was how I felt.

I fear...I really, truly fear...that we are raising a generation of kids who may never develop that ability to see beyond what is in front of them - to understand the greater impact of the actions they take.

Had I not done what I did that cold day in November, 16 years ago, I would now have (I believe) a 15-year-old son in addition to my 18 year old daughter, my 16 year old stepdaughter, my 14 year old stepson, my 12 year old stepson, and my 3 year old daughter.  It would be a very, very full house.

But what I know now, that I could see then, is that we would make it.  God has led us every step of the way, and we would make it.  I have asked forgiveness, over time, of that child.  I have hope, that someday, I will see him, and the twin of my 3-year-old, in heaven.  I have hope that I will get to know them in a space and time that isn't defined by the mistakes we've made along the way.

I feel very strongly about women's issues.  It is hard for me to say funding for Planned Parenthood should be limited - because I think the need for that limit goes hand in hand with the need for our children to have a moral and ethical base that they are just not getting today.  How can we expect one to work without the other?  It's a journey down a slippery slope, and without God for traction, how can we ever hope to have balance?

So I understand my daughter's friend's viewpoint.  I understand why those issues are important to her.  But thanks to Planned Parenthood, I very nearly DIDN'T become the parent of her good friend.

Thank you God, for stepping in, and thank you so much, for forgiving me when I couldn't see you lighting my way through.  Children are VERY MUCH  a blessing from God.