Friday, January 27, 2017

Why I March

I think we come off as looking judgmental.  Critical.  Like we are condemning those who choose to do it.  We are not.  We are mourning the losses.  So many, it's impossible to place a number.  But that's just they point.  They were so much more than numbers in the first place.  Hence our fight to end this.

I have always been prolife.  Because they are people.  I was taught that truth my whole life.  And I believed it always.  I've never understood how someone can condone abortion.

But then things happened to me.  Things that made me hold and see why abortion is truly wrong.  Three times.  Three times, I've walked through hell to know that each life is precious.  Each life deserves to live.  Deserves to be protected.  That each life is sacred. 

My eldest daughter was born nine months after my husband and I were married.  She was our honeymoon baby.  And she lit up my life.  And also screamed the first five months of her life.  Along with post partum depression, this made me terrified when we received our second positive pregnancy test...three and a half months after she was born.  I was ashamed.  I was embarrassed.  Of what people would think.  The only reason we announced was because someone else began telling others we were pregnant.  We received a lot of comments.  "Get a hobby."  "Do ya'll have a hobby?"  Just as I started to get excited about that baby, just as I put my faith in Jesus that He would give me the grace for Irish twins, the worst happened.  I was thirteen weeks.  And the ultrasound was still.  I saw it immediately.  There was no blipping in that precious child's chest.  My husband missed it. He grew excited, seeing the baby.  I grasped at his chest.  Screaming something was wrong.  He didn't understand.  I was incoherent.  In that moment, we were in two different places.  Two weeks later, we buried John. 

We went on to have two more beautiful girls.  The youngest of which, we nearly didn't bring home.  Her pregnancy was hard and she wasn't growing.  But, praise God, she made it. 

Then, he left for Afghanistan when she was only four months old.  A day after another pregnancy test, I miscarried again.  It would be several years before I could admit that it was a lost baby, not a false positive. 

Months later after he came home, another positive pregnancy test.  Another journey.  We were eighteen weeks.  I felt him getting weaker.  I felt him go quiet.  It was the worst week of my life.  I couldn't get anyone to believe me.  I couldn't get any of the doctors to understand.  Until another quiet ultrasound.  Another silent Doppler.  I went up to labor and deliver, delivered my son, and buried James two weeks later. 

We've been blessed, finally, with a son here.  He's our third boy.  My first son here.  It's weird to have carried seven people.  To have grown seven lives.  And only have four to show for it.  It's saddening.  Something I try not to dwell on. 

But those three I lost, the two I held and buried--they taught me firsthand the beauty, the sacredness of life.  That little one, I call her Josephine, I carried her a week.  But, she was a person.  John--I carried him thirteen weeks.  I felt him kick twice. I felt his life.  And then he was gone.  James--eighteen weeks!  We had our big ultrasound scheduled.  People could see my bump.  I was feeling him kick from the outside!  And then I felt him go.  Slowly.  "I heard he put up a good fight!" The priest said.  I believe he did. 

Every human life matters. 

From conception to natural death. 

I believe this. 

I believe women are shattered by abortion.  Broken.  Where are the pro-choice supporters then?  Where are they when the women sit alone, in darkness, in abject pain?  Where is their "ministry" then? 

Abortion is a disserve, an injustice to women.  To humanity.  It kills people, tiny people, and then walks away.  There is no help when that sweet mama has to deal with the aftermath.  The realization of what has happened. 

It must end.  Abortion must end.  We must realize what we are doing.  The wrong, the evil of killing a human life and shattering a mother. 

Every human life matters.  Every unborn child.  And also every broken mother. 

Speak up, people.  It's time to end this evil.  End abortion. Save humanity.

John +
Josephine +
James +

Sunday, January 01, 2017

I used to blog all the time. Two to three times per week.  This place was hopping.  And it fulfilled me.  Then, life happened.  (And those numbers have changed, on both sides.) And my blog went silent.  For a long time.  I couldn't write.  I was sad and I was broken.  And I was healing. 

I think a lot.  I'm really good at brooding.  So, as the New Year approached, I thought a lot the last week.  I'm not really one for resolutions.  I end up forgetting about them and then brooding about how I failed again.  But, this year, I want some change.  I need some change.  Spring is full of new life, fresh air.  I need some fresh air in my little corner. We are facing many changes this year.  A move (not sure where yet), along with many other changes--some welcome and some potentially not so welcome ones. So, I've been pondering what sort of changes I'd like to make.

I want to write more.  I love writing.  Conveying emotions and thoughts--it fulfills me.  I used to keep a journal; I'd write several times a week.  I need to start doing that again.  For me.  I want to start blogging again.  Writing and conveying thoughts.  Posting here.  It's time to get things going again. 

I need to start working out again.  My babies are easy on the eyes but not so easy on the waist line.  Time to get active again.  I need to keep up with my girls...and my son who's going to start moving sooner than I'd like to admit. 

I love creating things.  Making things.  Tonight, I went into the kitchen and made pumpkin pie completely from scratch.  Even the pie crust.  For some inexplicable reason, creating things from raw materials is so amazing.  I love to sew and crochet, to bake and cook.  It's an amazing feeling to take rudimentary materials and create something complex from it that can soothe the soul.  A blanket, baby gifts, edible goods.  I need to do that more.  For me. 

I need to spice up my spiritual life.  A prayer journal, reading.  I don't know how to do a prayer journal, so talk me through it if you've done one.  It's intriguing to me. 

I feel like my life, my heart maybe, has been a little house shut up for a long winter.  And spring is coming. Finally.  I feel spring dawning.  And I want to pull out the soft sheets and light blankets and fluff them in the air. Open the windows, prop open the doors.  Let that sweet, life-giving breeze flutter through the house again.  It's time. 

Want to join me?