I’ve written this post a million times in my mind.
I’ve written it in the car as Lucy sits in the back seat watching Mickey Mouse and eating Goldfish crackers.
I’ve written it as I wipe down the kitchen counters.
I’ve written it as I fold laundry or cook dinner or lay in bed trying to sleep.
But I know it’s a risk. So every time my heart does that leap and I think for a moment, “yes…I will!” I get scared and table the idea for another day.
As soon as I table it though…there’s a whisper in the back of my mind that asks, “but do you think you have something necessary to contribute?”
And every time…that answer is yes.
So here I am. I am not sure if I am doing the right thing or the smart thing but in my heart, I am doing my best. Yes, this is a dessert blog. But it is also a place where I talk about books and make-up and my family and my struggles. I have a platform and damnit if I am not going to use the heck out of it.
So let’s talk about Planned Parenthood.
Not awkward at all.
There’s been a lot of conversation (and by conversation, I mean shouting matches on social media) about Planned Parenthood, mostly because of abortions. Prochoice or Prolife is a VERY personal and divisive issue and one that most bloggers would not touch.
But here we are.
I am NOT here to discuss which side of the fence you are on. That is personal and WHATEVER you feel, I want you to know that I respect that completely. You have your reasons, and that is enough for me. When I say that I love my readers…I mean it. I love you and I trust you and your judgement.
But what I want to share with you is a bit of perspective. Not with the intention of changing your heart, but HOPEFULLY with changing the way you VOICE your heart. Because at the end of the day, issues aren’t actually issues. They are people. With lives and children and heartache. If you take ANYTHING from this post, please let it be that. Issues are not headlines. They are aching hearts.
I have been open about the fact that I was molested by my dad (you can read about it here)but what I have never shared is that there was a time where I thought I might be pregnant.
By my dad.
That is an awful thing to read. It’s an awful thing to say. Even after all these years and as many conversations as I’ve had about rape and molestation, saying that I thought my dad got me pregnant is humiliating. I feel gross and dirty and ashamed. It’s such an unnatural pairing of words. Almost like it’s not even real.
It was after I reported him and I was at the doctor for my exam and they asked me about my last period. Obviously, other things had been on my mind and as I sat and did the math, we realized that I was over a week late. And I had never been with a boy in that way.
There really aren’t words to describe how I felt in that moment. It’s the moment I look back on when I’m trying to gain perspective. Having a bad day? At least it’s not that one time when you thought you were pregnant by your dad! Not funny really, but what else do you do.
So, I started looking into abortion. Obviously I didn’t WANT an abortion but I also didn’t WANT to give birth to my own brother or sister at the age of 17. What do you even do when that happens? Honestly, it was the first thing my mind went to. And it was the only hope I clung to as I hoped my period would come. At least it was an option. I might not have had a lot of power over my life, but that was one decision I could make.
About a week later, my period came. And the whole abortion dialogue went out the window.
But it never really went away.
Because every time the subject comes up, I remind myself, “You’ve never had an abortion. But you might have.”
Would I have? Would I regret it? Would I be thankful? How might my life had turned out?
I don’t know. But I do know that if I had ended up making that decision, I’d still stand by it. What else would I do? Maybe I’d wish that someone had gently come and tried to support me and make me feel loved in the hopes that I’d change my heart. Heck, I don’t know. But what I do know is that I wouldn’t have wanted to read on Facebook that I was a “murderer”.
So when I see people shouting their feelings into the void, it breaks my heart. Because it just heaps shame upon what I feel already. And I think about the precious girls in my exact same predicament…but maybe not so lucky…who are feeling the same way.
When I try to decide how I feel about abortion now…it’s complicated. But what I do know is that unless you’ve had the most intimate part of yourself stolen roughly and against your will, you will never understand true desperation. And that is why I plea with you…to be gentle.
There are girls out there…babies, really. Who have been hurt beyond comprehension. And they are listening. Not every woman who gets an abortion is some careless sex fanatic. Some of them are hurting and scared and feel powerless and afraid. Some of them are sad and don’t feel that they have a choice. Some of them can’t imagine and won’t imagine giving birth to their father’s child.
And I understand.
Prolife? Great. As I look upon my two precious kiddos, I cannot imagine them being treated like they weren’t living, breathing beings from day one. I admire the fact that you stand up for life and for babies who cannot speak for themselves. But that 17 year old self of mine…gosh. That poor girl. I understand and stand by that desperation.
So if you’re Prolife, take action. Instead of posting hateful rants, contribute to the world in a way that empowers victims and makes the world a less friendly place for sexual predators. In a world where women are blamed for being raped and constantly scrutinized, surely we all see the necessity of this.
And Prochoice? Great. I admire your compassion for women. But how about you get to know some people who are Prolife and understand why? I recently spoke to a dear friend whose mom was advised to abort her due to illness. Gosh, to think of a world where she wouldn’t exist! It truly saddened me and made me admire her mom so much for sticking to her guns.
At the end of the day, what I want you to know is that ISSUES are PEOPLE. And people have stories and heartbreak and really desperate times that some of us, if we are lucky, will never understand.
Let your words turn instead to action that is loving and gentle. And let us all love one another as I still love that 17 year old me.