Hi Everyone. My name is TB and The Fat Lady Sings has asked me to guest post for her for a few days while she recovers from a back injury. I am honored to have been asked and hope I can maintain her usual standards of excellence.
If you get a chance, drop her a line. As we all know, there is nothing worse than being immobilized by back pain.
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Legacy
If things had been different, I could have a sixteen year old child now.
I got pregnant months after my mother’s death, my high school graduation and my decision to leave home for good. I had an abortion in January, 1990. I have never regretted my decision.
I was raised in a strictly fanatical fundamentalist Christian sect from the time I was a small child. These are the people who think that Robertson and Falwell are liberals. After witnessing intolerance bordering on hatred, scare tactics, emotional and physical abuses, extreme patriarchal rule and rampant hypocrisy, by the time I was in fourth grade, I decided it wasn’t for me.
There were many knock-down, drag out fights with my parents, but they eventually realized I was serious and was not going to change my mind. I quit attending church at 12 and was finally allowed to go to public school a few years later. I went through almost a decade of soul searching and research, trying to decide if there was some religion I could subscribe to before settling on agnosticism.
At the time I became pregnant, I was in no way equipped to have a baby, emotionally or financially. I am so grateful to have had the freedom to make a life changing decision that so many women before me never had.
Now, at 35, I am pregnant again, under completely different circumstances. I would be lying if I said that I haven’t thought differently about the choice I made 17 years ago now that there is welcome life growing inside me.
Yet I know without a doubt I did the right thing at the time. And I remain staunchly pro-choice because I believe it is imperative that every woman has the same right, and the same control over her body.
But here is the legacy. Here is the thing that shames me and makes me question myself lying awake in the quiet dark, my hand on my stomach. As much as I have left the craziness and fanaticism of my upbringing in the past, there is a small part of me who is frightened for the child I am carrying now, as if I deserve some sort of punishment, as if my child, by extension will suffer for the decision I made so long ago.
It’s difficult to admit that these irrational thoughts come to me, unbidden and I have needed to say this out loud for months, to exorcise these demons. When a child is taught that the currency of life is based on extremes, with no middle ground, it makes a lasting impression. It is why fanaticism of any kind is so frightening to me.
I believe that each of us makes our own heaven and hell and that there are many people living in their own personal hell here on earth. Because I don’t want to be one of them, I have put the past behind me. Yet these thoughts still linger. I am doing my best to make sense of them and move on.
I want to raise this child to be an informed and open minded citizen of the world. My wish for them is that they are never exposed to the things I saw, that they never have to wrestle with irrational guilt, anger and shame. The world is a difficult enough place to make sense of.
My job as a parent is to lay the groundwork and to make it easier for my child to navigate his or her life. It is up to me to provide a loving and safe environment in which he or she can figure things out, to educate so that they can someday make informed decisions of their own.
I must test and exceed my own limits of unconditional love, patience, humility, courage, generosity, faith and hope.
This time, I am prepared to do all of that and more.
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