Ovum(s) of Change

Ovum(s) of Change:

Does life begin at conception for very real legal purposes- a resounding no! But, if you ask me if I killed my baby when I "chose" to have an abortion- I would say yes, within my own beliefs, yes, on that point.

Do I lay around in life dwelling and chastising myself on the abortion every single day of my life ever after, no, I do not. Did I even worry very much about it at the time either, no, and yes, I am that person other people feel very free to judge. The surgery did not hurt, so I had gone out to eat breakfast in a nearby cafe, much like every other day of my then young life. I had already been a budding Feminist and I also happened to have gotten knocked up, so what, that was the size of the situation.

The "choice" I put in quotes very purposefully however. I do not believe that anyone, unless she is faced with such a decision really can fathom it's psychological weight, even the weight it later had at least one adult human female that I can write on and vouch for, myself and myself alone. I might have behaved like some she-rah at the time, but I did process my thoughts about the abortion I had until many years later, almost 20 years later to be exact. One early morning I just suddenly felt a heavy but nameless weight of my decision. That morning I was about age 40 and had just lost my (second) baby to miscarriage after a tumultuous and abusive relationship which had resulted in that conception and demise.

"Something must have been wrong," said my gynecologist in a manner of fact way, it was simply "nature's way of handling it." She also chimed in cheerfully that I could just try again! There were alternative and sperm-donor ways- of which she practically launched right into telling me the details of as well. This was right after she alone looked at the pictures of my (second) dead fetus. The one that still lingered biologically inside of me in a potentially hazardous to my health way- it's pieces and bits that had to be taken out of my womb, for my own good in order for me to properly recuperate.

In this manner, my (second) fetus saved my life. She had made me leave the abuse. She had made me dream of a better future, one that was not sealed. I left my own home while I thought I was still pregnant, in order to protect her and her alone, not myself whom I cared about at that time not at all. I had felt insanely guilty about being pregnant (that time,) as I had planned it- with a real jerk I thought I loved enough to fix or save with my life and that of another, a sick and perverse logic, that is what gave me my ultimate shame.

My Mom came running to my side that (second) time, much as she secretly had the first time I was pregnant. It had been she who understood (the first time) and had told me what to do about "my situation." I remember laughing in stress relief- as an outspoken young woman I had expected to inform my mother that I was going to have an abortion, to have to argue and yell about my rights. Mom had really, really surprised me. She completely did not judge and understood. As we both knew, it was too late to argue anyway, I was already pregnant and I deeply respected her pragmatism.

And I stress- neither of us was cheering all the way to the abortion clinic where we dodged protesters just to get inside, but we rallied together as women and knew what "had to be done" in order to save my young life over one large yet old tale since the beginning of time"mistake." I could not get held back for the rest of my life. I had no money and no job. I would never choose to bring a child into this world, much less one without money/access to food/healthcare/education.

Yes, it was the (second) passing of a fetus of mine that really threw me for a loop. I think this is largely because for her it was acceptable to grieve publicly and even in my own mind. Her death was not my fault. For her death, I could be looked upon with sympathy, with grace- in steep contrast to the silent pain of my prior "choice."

Yes, there was a point at which I felt mad at God, like he took an eye for an eye, a fetus for a fetus, against me? Yes. I could not understand why He in His infinite wisdom had planned my life to go through either situation. I was most angry that it seemed that He had sent a baby (the second one) to save me! Why me? Why was I so important that a baby had to die just so I could live outside of an abuser's hold on me? Plenty on naysayers would probably remark that I had originally "chosen" my own life and lifestyle over that of the first fetus anyway. The only conclusion I can come to is that all of these thoughts and comparisons have evolved out of valid places of trauma. I might have come to calm down on my screaming about these questions, but I do still feel justified in the questioning iteself.

And, now I am too old to become a biological mother (again.) While I do not believe in regret in general in my life, I may more like lament of days and years gone by where I did not care about nor protect, nor plan properly for myself, much less for any other I would chose to have in my life.

I do get tired of people with children saying how lucky I am not to have kids. Yes. comments like that do make me feel ugly and resentful inside. Yes, I am not held down, I can pick up and go, but this life of mine is by my design. I face the earth alone and in the end I have made no prisoners. However, there are birth control and healthier sex methods of protection. I am a big proponent. When people feel free to ask me in public why I do not have kids while looking at me like I have a third eye, yes, there are times I wish I could respond- why do you have them? I never could afford to or I was abused. I am not allowed to judge, but people would judge me just for existing if they knew the whole truth, about the two tiny creatures who (twice) saved my life.

Do I in turn feel compelled to give back to my community for my privileged place of being carefree and kid-free by teaching or care taking of others' kids, no, I do not. I have made decision in life that I can live with, that I have had to learn how to live with and to nosy or critical people I can only respond in polite silence. Again, if I had a medical issue I could say that, not that it would be any onlooker's business, but in my just plain decision not to breed, I am the evil or weirdo woman. No, I do not agree. We all live with our choices and behaviors. We all make mistakes, or even, I say with a certain sigh "sin." My past does not make me who I am. My lack of things or people do not define me either. Yes, I do just wish for some space, simply not to be asked annoying questions of which I am NOT afraid anymore to answer- but fools are not ready to hear my real remarks out loud, I am also sure of that fact.