Before Abortion: Loving the Unlovely

I want to share a rather disorganized follow up to All Babies are Wanted is the Worst Pro-Life Argument which I wrote a few weeks ago. I am truly moved by the images of these 7 and 8 week old miscarried babies (originally posted on Mindy Raelynn Danison's facebook page), and touched by the courage of the mother for sharing them.  It breaks my heart that the reason for these photos is because these babies passed away. However, it is incredible to see what I’ve only seen before on ultrasound... I’ve shared before that I first saw my baby at 7-weeks-old via ultrasound. I had received a pregnancy test a week before, and it didn’t feel real at all until I saw the fast flicker of a beating heart, a little hummingbird heart, I called it. Before the ultrasound, it still felt like just a “pregnancy”; honestly, it felt like it was just a condition,  a UTI or a toothache that my body was going through. I did not feel motherly. But suddenly, in the ultrasound, pardon my french, shit got real.

 It is all a blur now, but in my counseling session I remember refusing to hear about abortion, while saying repeatedly, “I understand why women get abortions now”. Before all of this, two acquaintances had come to me and shared with me that they received abortions; It felt so random that they would tell me this news, and I experienced grief and compassion for them that I had never felt before. I don’t believe it’s right or any woman's best option, but I still understand- I “feel”-, why women get abortions now—As a girl pretending to be what I thought was the definition of a Christian, I still remember the feeling of panic, fear, shame, longing to "erase this mistake", depression, hopelessness, loneliness, abandonment, and my own unyielding, persistent sense of selfishness of not wanting to have to give up everything— and this is why it bothers me when people say I am “brave” and a hero for “choosing life”.

There were understandably many suggestions to place her for adoption; there was huge amounts of stress, the father wasn’t sticking around, and everyone was generally discouraged and upset about my pregnancy. However, NO ONE was threatening me, coercing me, or telling me to get an abortion, unlike so many other women. I wasn’t sitting there thinking, “I’m getting an abortion now”, I was sitting there thinking, "Oh, #%$%". To be totally honest with you, and as painful as this is to admit (now, at the time it was a perfectly acceptable thought), there were days where I wholeheartedly wished for a miscarriage so that "it"--my baby-- could die at the hands of God, and not mine (ahem, this is not a heroic thought). But back in the clinic on the day of my ultrasound, I could see a way out, and my way out was to move away from old patterns, get away from my negative relationship with her father, get out of the area where my abuser (an ex-boyfriend, not her dad) lived, stop alcohol and drug use as a coping method for pain, and try to better my life. Something that was less of a priority, but still on my list, was to "find God". I'm proud of that decision to move away. It was courageous. It was the hardest I've ever made; I guess it's heroic in my book.

I was fully supported 100% by hundreds of people in this choice. They said: We will walk beside you. We will hold your hand. Whatever we need to be for you, we will be for you. They are the heroes.  

What would it be like to see more passion about pursuing relationships with young people who are "not doing well” (whatever that looks like to us), especially those within the church. You know them... the ones that avoid eye contact, the ones “acting rebellious” or whatever term you want to use, the ones breaking the rules, having sex, flirting, asking for attention, wearing black, showing skin, dyeing their hair blue, whatever they are doing that appears to be bad. As one of my older friends said in reference to my "rebellion" and pregnancy, "I could see it coming since you were in elementary school." I clearly remember moving back to Moscow with baby-in-tow, and being told by a well-meaning church lady, “A few years ago, I remember seeing you and thinking ‘Wow, she looks like she is doing so badly’. But now, you’re doing great! Do you want to come over for dinner?!” It was hard for me to not say my angry response, “Well, why didn’t you invite me over for dinner back then?” 
I’m no longer angry and just have to laugh at that scenario, but I am disheartened. What would it be like to overlook behavioral issues for the moment, while we are in pursuit of a connection and relationship, so that the HEART issues can be revealed, so that trust can be built, so that vulnerability can happen, so that Jesus has a chance to move through our hearts and hands.  

Why don’t we invite “them” over for dinner now?

Please don’t think I’m blaming everyone else for my own sin. I repeatedly hurt and damaged my own family and friends; I pushed them away…my heart was so hard. At the same time there was this longing in me to be unconditionally loved, to fill the hole in my heart, to find a place to rest and just be. I hated myself and everything about myself; I was mean and cruel to those who tried to love me. And there were so many people who did try their hardest to love me. All I am saying, and this is for myself as well, is can we please try to look past the outward things we see, to look on into the secret, hidden, broken hearts. Can we try not to judge behavior? As I said before, 

What would it be like to overlook behavioral issues for the moment, while we are in pursuit of a connection and relationship, so that the HEART issues can be revealed, so that trust can be built, so that vulnerability can happen, so that Jesus has a chance to move through our hearts and hands.  

For those of you who have been hurt by the church or by others, I’m so sorry. I am so, so, sorry. I know the sting, the pain, the tears, the bitterness, the helplessness of being a victim of people who claim that they are God’s people. I know what it feels like to be a victim of people who have psychologically, emotionally, spiritually, or sexually harmed you. I have experienced each type of hurt. Please talk to me more about that in person, if you can.

But I want you to know that when you say yes, God will give you the grace to let it go, and He will provide the healing that follows. You are right, it is impossible to forgive people. There's no psychology book, no science, no “time heals” message, there’s no “being the bigger person”, “letting it go” (sorry, Elsa...), nothing that can help you forgive...  Why? Because forgiveness is not human. And I can say from experience that it is so sweet to forgive... It is so freeing to walk around without the weight of un-forgiveness on your shoulders dragging you down. Remember, they are just humans. We are just human. We all have the capacity to damage each other- to inflict burning, venomous wounds. And God.. He has the ability to take us for a ride, a ride that will shake us to our core, clean us out, and redeem that pain. I am sorry if it feels like I am glossing over the pain you are experiencing now, but believe me I can understand (again, please ask me in person).  

In closing, thank you for reading this. I love you. I love you for caring. I love you for trying.

Surrender.. to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling.. to Him who declares that He is “the God who sees”, to Him who will wash you whiter than snow, to Him who loves you regardless of any failings…to Him who will NEVER leave you...

Food for thought:

The Lord will guide you continually, giving you water when you are dry and restoring your strength. You will be like a well-watered garden, like an ever flowing spring. Some of you will build the deserted ruins of your cities. Then you will be known as a rebuilder of walls and a restorer of humans. Isaiah 58:11-12, NLT

So humble yourselves before God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come close to God, and God will come close to you. James 4:7-8

Apologies for this rather disoriented post, I'm on painkillers and it's been quite a week!!!

Baby A at 22 weeks old in utero, 11 weeks old in utero, 5 months old, 15 months old, 2 1/2 years old. My little human. My little hero. 

A Letter to the Guy Who Made Me A Single Mom at Age 20*

Dear X,

I never thought this would be me, but here I am.

I met you at a party in 2011. We were both losing at life... you were my next bad relationship, and I was your naive, six-years-younger, blond girlfriend who was easily charmed, equally addicted to partying and whatever made me feel numb. You didn’t try to coerce me into anything, and you were the kindest pathological liar I’d ever met. You disappeared for weeks at a time, but always found a way back to me with your sweet talk.

It was only a matter of time, really. The moment life happened, I knew I was pregnant. I’d always read about people “just knowing” they were pregnant, and I never believed those stories. But I knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt. I got up and went home with a sinking feeling. You disappeared again to who-knows-where, for almost a whole month this time, and once again I believed whatever excuse you gave. I texted you from my grandparents’ bathroom with two positive Dollar Store pregnancy tests in my hand.

“Oh my God, baby! Are you okay?”

“No."

“Whatever you want to do, I support you."

In my heart, I already knew that you were going to fail us, but I just didn’t know how painful the fall would be. For a while, you and I pretended. We even made a plan to move closer to your family. You stroked my tummy and whispered lovely things to our 6-week-old baby. You missed my first appointment and her first ultrasound. You so wanted a little girl; I wanted you to want us. I wanted this mistake to be okay. You called your mom and told her the news, and over the phone she offered pregnancy advice for me. It almost felt…normal.

Sadly, actions speak louder than words, and my first maternal instinct kicked in, piercing through my safe cloud of denial. I’ll never forget an image that played over and over in my mind…a little girl standing in a window and waiting for her daddy, waiting, waiting, waiting, for a daddy who never came. The image haunted me as much as your face would haunt me in the future.

You seemed confused by why I would want to leave you and my family and my hometown, and move away into a maternity home to try to make my ruined life better for our baby. I was so confused and broken by your tears. Was I wrong to do this? To “keep a father away from his child”? Did you really care? But still, I left.

While I was away, my mind grew as much as my belly. Yet I still held on to our few false memories. I desperately hoped, waited for your texts, and believed your empty promises; I went to visit you in the hospital, fought with you almost every week as you continued to lie.

“I love you and our baby so much.”

 “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“I just mailed a check.”

“I’ll buy you a crib.”

“I quit drinking.”

“Did you pop that baby out?”

Finally, it was enough. She was 1 1/2 months old, you lived 1 1/2 hours away, and yet you never once tried to see her. You posted the baby pictures I sent you on your Facebook account like you were there with us, and I finally had the courage to stand up on my own- to stand up for my daughter’s heart. I changed my phone number, and this time it was my own choice to never hear from you again.

X, I want you to know I am so thankful for you for staying away. I’ve watched my friends go through horrible custody battles; they've faced degrading language, abuse, control, manipulation, and even neglect, all in the name of co-parenting a child. I’ve watched them cry, their natural protectiveness defeated by a court order, as they packed their little children off in a car or on a plane for visitation with someone they once thought they knew. I’ve watched their legs shake sitting before a judge, and I’ve hugged them while they sobbed at the unfairness and injustice. And I’ve heard, again, and again, from friends and strangers, “You don’t know how lucky you are. You don’t have to share her.”

But you see, it’s not just your lack of trying to get rights….

X, thank you so much for our daughter. I remember the first time I looked her over in the hospital. All ten fingers and ten toes, and somehow, I knew there would be a striking reminder of you. And there it was: when I tipped her tiny face upwards, there was that same little cleft in her chin, so familiar to me. She got a lot from you… your athleticism, your perfect blue eyes, the gorgeous hair that your mom told me runs in your family, even in the shape of her face I see you.

X, thank you for not sticking around. It was because of lack of you that I gave my heart to Jesus in a church one day, holding my tiny, fatherless baby girl. It was rock bottom for me. A single mom just turned 21 with a very different future than I'd ever imagined. A precious baby with a “deadbeat dad”. Left to my own devices in the past, I had failed, again, and again, and again. I truly don’t know where we would be now if you had made good on any one of your promises. I finally surrendered to God.

X, thank you for not being there for the first years of her life. I have been with her 24-7 for three years. I sometimes resent that very much. I've gotten up with her ten times a night, I've gotten up with her six times a night, and now I get up with her two times a night sometimes. I’m the only one she cries for when she has a bad dream, and I’m the one who experiences those perfect moments when we fall asleep holding each other. I've hated you for this part... the thousands of dirty diapers, the sleepless nights, having no idea what I was doing, being solely responsible for nourishing a human being, trying to function at work and school. I hated being so alone, out-of-my-mind tired. But once again, X, I thank you. The loneliness, the exhaustion, the confusion of it all has brought me to my knees every day and night. “God, please help me” is my constant prayer. Truly, there are days where I have nothing left. I never would have been that humble if you were there. I never would have allowed myself to depend on God. I never would have searched through my Bible during nap times, desperately seeking answers and encouragement and words of affirmation and love. I never would have begged friends and family to please come take her for awhile, and in doing so, become so loved that I was able to love her...and myself... again. 

X, thank you for not being her dad. In your absence, I have met countless friends under the same label of “single mom.” I have been given more gifts that I can count- huge gifts- gifts I only dreamed of in the past, like a full-ride scholarship, my apartment, two cars, the list goes on. I’m a college student, X! Can you believe that? I have my family back, friends that have become family, I have Jesus, and I have grace. Your absence has left a gaping hole which has been filled to the brim with such wonderful things. Your absence has made all of the verses in the Bible about fatherless children become applicable for my very own daughter, and you can bet that God has come through with every single one of them. She does not lack anything, and as I raise her, God raises me! I finally get it, X. I finally understand the love God feels for me. I finally understood when I was trying to teach her to walk that God was teaching me to walk too!

X, thank you for your family. They are normal, imperfect people who have found enough love in their hearts to call me their daughter and think the world of me and A.  I’m not keeping her away from them... they belong to her. They send cards and boxes of presents for her, and they will be in love with her while she grows up, excited for her on her first day of preschool, cheering for us and supporting us, planning elaborate camping trips every summer, skyping with her regularly, and someday present at her graduation and wedding. I never imagined that for her. What a gift.

X, thank you for not being near me. Someday, there’s going to be a guy. I don’t know who he is or when he will come. I pray for him as much as I pray for you. In the past, I might have missed him as I searched for a wild, exciting romance in which I felt deeply known. But this man, he is going to be different. He’s going to love A as much as he loves me. He’s going to be a tender, loving, consistent, present dad, and he doesn’t even know it yet. And you know what? I would have missed him. I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. Now I picture my wedding day and I get tears in my eyes because I KNOW our marriage won’t be perfect, but I will never, ever, take that guy for granted. Every moment of pain I have experienced..when she asks (frequently) "Where's MY daddy, Mom?", when I see other dads with their kids..Well, like everything else in our lives, the pain will be fully redeemed. This man is already my hero, and every day God grows us a little closer to each other. Thanks to you, X, I know what kind of man I’m waiting for. 

The other day at church I put my hands above my head and sang my heart out. Five years ago, I was the girl who just couldn’t get out of her seat due to the embarrassment of someone labeling her as a Jesus-freak. What if someone thought I would lose all my composure for Christ? What if someone thought I wasn’t cool? A few minutes later, A ran out from the church nursery and grabbed… my butt. She laughed hysterically and then we danced together, both of us jumping for joy, our sweaty hands tightly together, her bright eyes filled with wonder and happiness.  

There's one thing I never got to say to you, and that is, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said about God when I got pregnant. I'm sorry that I told you far more about a judgmental God than a loving God. I'm sorry I told you I would get excommunicated from church. I'm so sorry. I wish I could take that back. I know differently now. 

But I’m learning, X. And I’m just so thankful for my beauty from ashes story. So thank you.

Encouragement for Single Moms:

“He heals the brokenhearted
He binds their wounds
He is love
He finds those forgotten

Those who've been abused
He is love
He knows your name

A father to the fatherless
A healer of the brokenness
You've make beauty from the ashes

And You're a helper to the helpless
A fighter for the hopeless
You love those who are alone
Those who are alone

He comforts the lonely and hears their cry
He is love
He holds our children throughout the night
He is love
He knows your name

A father to the fatherless
A healer of the brokenness
You've make beauty from the ashes

And You're a helper to the helpless
A fighter for the hopeless
You love those who are alone
Those who are alone
(Taken from the song Esther, by the band Esterlyn.

Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/esterlyn/esther-lyrics/#eMAWPDmXbrH7btlT.99)

He will feed his flock like a shepherd.
    He will carry the lambs in his arms,
holding them close to his heart.
    He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young.” (Isaiah 40:11, NLT)

 But God heard the boy crying, and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, “Hagar, what’s wrong? Do not be afraid! God has heard the boy crying as he lies there. Go to him and comfort him, for I will make a great nation from his descendants.” (Genesis 21:17)

She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: "You are the God who sees me," for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me." (Genesis 16:13)

"Comfort, O comfort My people," says your God."Speak kindly to Jerusalem; And call out to her, that her warfare has ended, That her iniquity has been removed, That she has received of the LORD'S hand Double for all her sins"… (Isaiah 40)

You did not anoint My head with oil, but she anointed My feet with perfume. For this reason I say to you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little. Then he said to her, “’Your sins have been forgiven.’” (From Luke 47)

One day old in the hospital

*The idea from this blog came from an open letter I found on the web awhile ago. I am unable to find the original link, but I found another blog which quotes her entire letter here: http://www.singlemomscoffeebreak.com/thank-letter-19-year-old-single-mom.html

"All Babies are Wanted" is the Worst Pro-Life Argument

Last fall, in the wake of several scandalous videos of Planned Parenthood being released, our internet empire burned with every emotion. In the pro-life community blood boiled and fingers swiftly spattered words…

There was never a better time for us to rise together and fight as one.

Hashtags brought us all together. How could he say “another boy”??

We were awakened.

We were horrified.

All the former pro-life saying tripled in quantity and enthusiasm: “Every baby is wanted”. “I just wish I could take all those unwanted babies home with me”, said one Facebook user.



I questioned the sincerity of all these words. Have you ever looked at the foster system statistics? The children of single mom statistics?

All those babies you want to take home? They are already here.

~

You see, I grew up cutting and pasting pro-life updates into my journal. It was my dream to work a pregnancy medical center; it was my dream to help pregnant teens. Things happened, and I left my dream to pursue other things.

A 20-year-old, backslidden Christian, college drop-out versus a positive pregnancy test. How painfully fell this fresh stroke of shame. What better way to awake then to live out my dream, not as a supporter but as the leading role—an unwilling pregnant participant in the game. The words “I’m pregnant” stuck in my throat until a friend made me say them out loud. “Kallie has something to tell you”, she said.

I told.

~

And I told the pregnancy medical center workers, “I understand why women get abortions…now.” I prayed for a miscarriage…

I lived in a maternity home with prostitutes, foster kids, orphans, homeless women, married women, teenagers, sexual abuse victims, drug addicts, and recovering drug addicts. After I graduated from the house, I peer-counseled women receiving pregnancy tests and was a relief house-parent at the same maternity house.

I saw a lot of babies who were born into a very ugly cycle. I saw their moms come in for help and choose life. There were not a lot of places they could go with their newborn babies, although there were a few homes set up to take in women exiting the program. A handful of churches who made it obvious that broken people were wanted inside. Sadly many of the women I knew went right back to the place they came from. At least they weren’t strangers there…

~

Within the walls of the church, if we don’t even want those children and adults who are alive, how can we claim that the unborn are wanted? Do we stay in safe, Christian communities, enjoying like-minded friends, going to church on Sunday, not swearing, smoking, or getting tattoos, and donating to our favorite charity.  And yet, “religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world" (James 1:27, NIV).

From what I can understand, “pure” is means getting our hands messy as we love others in the way they need. As my Pastor Aaron says, true Christianity means making room in your church, your heart, and your community for “those people”, the specific ones who are difficult for us to love.

I pray that churches can change from being pro-life to pro-love. Pro-woman, pro-man, pro-baby, pro-child, pro-teenager.  Bringing them all in with a huge mess trailing behind them, and not being afraid of that mess. Being effectively trained to help them in a way that will help them break the cycle of abuse or addiction or whatever ugly thing it is. 

I believe Jesus calls us to hang out with “those people”.  

~
I have an unusual story. I was one of those people. I believe that I was past the point of grace, and so I lived accordingly. I had no self-worth. In these exact words I asked God, if He was still around, to please get me out. But there are some people who really get how to love. And I got that love. That is why my story is unusual. And this is how it went:



Someone told me how guilty I was for my sin. But I knew that better than anyone.



Someone told me “Do whatever you want with our pregnancy, and I’ll support it.” Someone couldn’t keep his promises.



Someone told me, “If you’re just going to put it in daycare for the rest of its life, why don’t you give it up for adoption.”


But….


Someone comforted me when I found out the positive results.


Someone showed me an ultrasound picture of a beating heart, for free. For a moment, I felt warm. I attached.


Someone typed in the words “so tiny, so cute” on the ultrasound picture when I had the courage to say that out loud.


Someone asked me if I wanted a thorough education on single parenthood, marriage, abortion, and adoption.


Someone told me that not only was my baby wanted, but I was wanted, regardless of my past decisions. Someone told me that regardless of my future decisions, I would be welcomed back.


Someone told me told me that God loved me for more than my performance. I didn’t know that!  


Some people had made a place for me in their own home to recover and flourish, until three months after my baby was born.


Some people had made another home for me where I was invited in as a member of the family.



Some church members told me there was a place for me here, sitting right next to them. Some church members drove me to church, drove me to parenting classes, and held my baby every Sunday for months.


Some people still loved me even while I quoted the Bible out of one side of my mouth and lied three hundred times with the other side.


Some people drove me to job interviews, the welfare office, the courthouse, the doctor.


Some people touched my belly like it was a gift, not a product of premarital intercourse.


Some fathers and pastors felt uncomfortable and scared at first, but then they treated my daughter like their own.


Some people bought me diapers, clothing, and baby supplies.


Some people gave me a break from holding a child that demanded everything I had to give and more. Some people did it for free.



Some people just came over and sat there with me on my worst days.


Some people dedicated their life to reminding me how full of worth I still was.

It was then that I was able to put one foot in front of the other, and begin to live.

Someone. Some people.


Please, choose who you are going to be.



Words are not enough.


God and us, we are enough.