They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder and my eyes behold a whole lot of treasure in what some see as trash. There ain’t no such thing as JUNK to me.
I share my story in hopes another woman will not have to share hers
I share my story because in my youth I chose to end a life.
As a teenager in the 70’s I was kind of a wild child. Actually I was a wild non-conforming geek, with little to no self esteem. At sixteen I wanted no one to tell me what to do. At the same time, if you offered to love me/like me I would do whatever you asked. If you loved me enough, maybe I could love me too.
Just after turning 16 I met a boy who told me he liked me. I just knew he would love me if I gave him whatever he wanted. So, an emotionally immature child had sex to force someone to love her and with that decision came a lifetime of regret.
With that decision I forced myself to make a choice no mother should ever make.
With that decision I chose to abort/terminate/kill my child. With that decision, I have carried 43yrs of painful remorse.
Back in the 1970’s Roe vs Wade had just come to be and I wish to God it had not. I believe because abortion was so newly legalized “those is charge” were “loose cannons” and not prepared to counsel but rather (and I lived it and saw it) to bring the the lambs to slaughter.
When I had told my boyfriend I was pregnant, he wanted to know who the father was? He also dumped me so hard my dad threatened to physically put the hurt on him. My poor parents, mom told me she would support me whatever I decided. My dad felt different. He wanted me to go back to normal (poor dad he didn’t seem to get it, that normal was not an option). He thought, now that abortion was legal, we could terminate the problem and get on with life. I was so immature and had no idea the choice I made would forever change me. I couldn’t see that there were those waiting to assist me in the choice to murder my child.
At just about 12 weeks my mother took me to a local Dr. The Dr. for whatever reason told me I was far enough along that I would have to wait until I was seventeen weeks. I was so stupid and to this day I do not understand what the heck happened. I was a kid who didn’t know anything of sex except, I thought it could get you love. I had no idea as to what this Dr. was talking about.
Now I will interject here, that before the final decision to abort was made I had one teacher who was kind enough to tell me, there were places for girls like me to go and have their babies. As a selfish teenager I could only think of myself not wanting to give up my unstable teenage life, I chose what I thought was the easy way out.
I went in at 17 weeks (my sister had said I was farther along than that, apparently I have still chosen to not be able to remember) pregnant to have a late term abortion. I remember a fifteen year old girl in the room also that day. The Dr. inserted a needle into our abdomens I have always thought he injected our children with saline? All I remember is both of us went through labor and that the Dr. laid my dead son on my tummy. It was all very matter of fact to him, it seemed.
Back to why I have chosen to share this story. I carried the shame of this horror for many years before I discussed it with anyone other than my sister. I never wanted to exploit my dead son and I thought if I never spoke of it, I was somehow protecting him. The reality is I did not protect him but I have the chance to protect other children and women.
Six years ago I attended a Christian led group full of many other women who also had lived the horror that comes with the choice to abort. It was so painful to admit to and relive the choices we all made. As I sat in the group I just couldn’t get over how many other women were suffering and missing the children we chose not to have.
Again I must interject, I have always been a person who does not want anybody telling me what to do. I was such a liberal, once upon a time. So I understand fully why people want to make their own choices. But I also understand that with choice must come honesty. If you choose to abort, you choose to murder and with that comes a pain you will live with the rest of your life.
If the heartbeat of a fetus is detectable at 6 weeks and I believe brain waves are as well, it is in my opinion murder if you choose to end that life? As one who did make that choice I will tell you, you may eliminate a child’s physical presence, you will most likely also feel the sense of relief in thinking your burden has been lifted. The reality is however that many feel that child’s presence in pain the rest of their lives. The relief is replaced by shock, numbness, guilt, loss and shame. It is odd how in life we can miss something so much that we chose not to have.
My prayer is that we choose to educate and no longer terminate. As our children struggle with the many issues that come with adolescence, educate them as to the realities that come with the choices they make.
My prayer is that we cultivate a revival of respect. I believe as we encourage our young to respect others, they in turn develop self-respect which is needed to make responsible choices in life.
My prayer is that we adults celebrate the moral responsibility that we are obliged to carry.
Again I share my story, not to judge you but to save another women from the aftermath of pain that comes with abortion.
I share my story for the countless unborn children and I pray someday the holocaust we continue to inflict ends.
God ALWAYS manages to take the dark and ugly and brings it into the light of His beauty.
While out on yard sale patrol, a good friend and I came upon these long lost, but not so forgotten memory makers from days gone by.
I better stipulate right here, that I am one nostalgic old hippie. I love life today, look forward to all the future has to offer and I do so because I celebrate the past.
One thing I have learned throughout the years is that in addition to the visual, the melodic sound of yesteryear provides a much needed music to the soul.
So, needless to say when I see an old radio/record player or better yet 8track on somebodies curbside, I have an overwhelming need to hear the sound of music once again.
On the larger of the two console’s I enjoyed listening to the owner’s own Xanadu of memories on vinyl.
The smaller stereo encased within an 8track, which for me brings back many a memory indeed, not only of the era but of those lost but never forgotten.
After a wonderful day of restoration, I sit basking in the glory of a well worn much much beloved Carole King record, helping me to remember that is in memory we are able to find “Rhymes & Reasons”.
It’s late April 2013 and this sunny day warms both my heart and soul. I’ve opened all the windows and let the fresh air breath in new life. There’s renewal in the air and I start to feel the welcome restless spirit of youth that I’m still not too old to forget.
I get way more than a little nostalgic in the spring and summer because I get to be outside. I get to play, garden, drive and just piddle around. There is only one thing that makes my outdoor love affair totally complete though and sends me into nostalgia paradise. I gotta have my tunes cranked up with Eagles soaring on the soundwaves. There is not much better than sunshine on a warm day and the sound of Eagles making like jelly and jammin.
So, when a co-worker lent me the Farewell Eagles Tour dvd, I allowed myself to regress back to the 70′s and blessed memories of people, places and times I will forever cherish.
I remember when most of the men I knew still had hair, I had a neck and when I waved at you my lower arm didn’t wave back.
I also remember when:
Not only the Eagles but The Doobie Brothers, Black Oak Arkansas, Bob Seger and Steve Miller ruled the airwaves and the 8 track tape player.
“Bitchin” was a really good thing and you couldn’t “hack it” without your really “far out” whatever it is you couldn’t live without at the time.
Mike and I hitchhiked to Newport Beach and caught a ride with a disk jockey who went by “Peyote Pete”, good times!!!!
In the early 70′s it was mocassin shoes and hip huggers that were the attire of choice for any self respecting teenage girl. I can remember shuffling from class to class in those mocassin’s. I don’t think I actually lifted a foot off the ground for an entire school year.
Lot’s of guys were then sporting those ever so attractive striped bell bottom drawers. In retrospect I must admit that one style was better left in the 70′s.
Thanks for the memories Eagles, for me you continue to soar.