In the Blink of an Eye

Seventeen years ago, I held my three week old baby daughter in my arms, totally and completely in love with her. Born at the end of January, I was still deep in the honeymoon phase through the month of February. I could never have imagined anyone so tiny could take my breath away the way this seven and a half pound little girl did. With her silky smooth head, sparkling blue eyes and loving spirit, I was forever smitten. 

Today, February 18, 2014, those seventeen years feel like they’ve passed in the blink of an eye as I kiss her good-bye at the airport. That beautiful head lying on my shoulder this morning as we drove to catch her flight is no longer baby soft and balding, but is now thick and full of dark shoulder length wavy hair. Her once blue eyes turned a deep brown shortly after her first birthday and now water gently with my own as we embrace at the security gate. Her loving spirit, now stronger and more confident with the passage of time, continues to captivate me. 

She is off on her first big adventure today, traveling overseas to live and go to school on a kibbutz in Israel for two and a half months. Her Israeli “brother”, Gilad, is well-known to her, having lived with us for three months this past fall. Her Israeli mom and dad feel almost familiar to us after our regular Skyping sessions these past six months.

When her host family and I spoke shortly after their son arrived to stay with us last fall, they told me they believed Gilad’s soul chose our family, in the same way an unborn soul chooses their birth parents and siblings. And as his soul chose us, we acknowledged my daughter’s soul also chose them. It was an affirming thought for me, and as I sent my own daughter off to their open arms now, I imagine it was a comforting thought for them as well. 

I am learning that the village helping me raise my children is not just a local, but a global and spiritual one as well. I sent her host family a brief text message this morning to let them know she was on board her plane. Immediately her host mom called me, asking me how we both were, knowing firsthand both the excitement and sadness I was feeling having stood in my shoes only six months earlier as she said goodbye to her son. What a relief it was to talk to her, my daughter’s other mother, halfway across the world, and know how they were eagerly waiting for her arrival – all of her, body and soul! 

As she boarded her plane and I sat outside of security waiting until she was safely in the air, it occurred to me how there is so much more going on between us than we could ever imagine. I thought about my first pregnancy and my first daughter, Mary, as I left the airport. I thought about how Mary released me, her soul allowing mine to choose what was best for me, knowing that in the end, things would all work out. I imagine she knew that I needed more time to be ready to have a child. And I imagine she knew that this day would someday arrive, this moment where I now release my first born daughter into the world and in some strange way, it would all make sense.

In the ebb and flow of the circle of life and the bitter sweetness that comes with change, everything feels exactly as it should be. My life – abortion, miscarriage, divorce – it all makes sense to me in this one moment. Everything before has brought me here, to this place of feeling one with the Universe. Right now, in this space, with a tearful good-bye to a confident young woman still ringing in my ears, it all remains quiet and perfect within my soul. 

Namaste.

 

That Dreaded "A" Word!

At a recent meeting of spiritually minded professionals, a young business owner asked me what I do for a living. I used to tread slowly, explaining my previous job as a small business owner in the real estate industry. This time, I decided to cut out my back-story and just say it.

“I help women who have had abortions and feel alone or ashamed to feel supported and excited to get out of bed in the morning,” I declared.

I could see this business owner’s eyes pop as she took in my words. “Wow,” she said. “That word really triggers me. I’ve had two abortions and have no regrets. I'm fine with it. But, I'm having a hard time dealing with that word . . .” Her voice trailed off.

Ah, that word! The “A” word. 

This word sparked controversy on a national level this week as well. In its thirty year history, there has never been a TED talk on abortion. If we can't talk about it publicly or privately, how will we ever come to terms with that word?

I am awed by women who are so sure of themselves and their own self-worth that they can make this choice and go on to talk about it. A stunning example to me is New York Times best-selling author Cheryl Strayed. In her poignant and riveting memoir, Wild, Cheryl reveals her personal abortion story. Her disclosure is short and sweet with no further mention of it or of any consequences. Aspects of the book that make it such a compelling read is her deep insight and transparency about this subject and her life. Maybe she has more baggage from her abortion than she lets on, but having seen her speak in person, I believe she authentically shares her biggest struggles in her book and that those struggles are resolved.

Based on my experience, Cheryl Strayed’s togetherness is unusual. I have found that most women were raised with a code of values that fostered judgment and shame, as I was, as they struggled in dealing with their choice. Despite all of their self-talk, daily they muster up the courage to remind themselves they did what they had to do and they try to be at peace with their decision.

It is for these women that I write this blog. Insomnia and deep feelings of loneliness or numbness may go on for months or years. These women cannot find it in themselves to talk to their partners, closest friends, or family. They feel unsafe or fearful and are biding their time until the day they miraculously no longer feel guilty. For some of these women, anti-depressants may be the preferred method of coping.

These are my people. I relate to them because of the "A" word that people do not want to talk about, either face to face or in public venues.  It is that "A" word that connects us. Without it, the clarity gained by mutual understanding and experience, does not exist.

 

“Abortion” is the clearest and most descriptive word there is for our experience. Webster's has no other synonyms for it. My sweet and beautiful grandmother couldn't use the word ten years ago when she shared her experience with me. Isn't it time we got real with each other?

For those who feel secure and safe in their choice, I hold no judgment. I applaud them and hope that together we can make a difference, create a caring community, and offer some hope to those who have not yet made peace  with their decision.

 Abortion defines the experience that we had, but it does not define who we are.  We are one-third of American women under the age of 45. As we become more comfortable with this word, we not only heal ourselves, but we can heal the world.

 

Namaste.

You Are Perfect

Ernest Holmes, New Thought leader and visionary, and the rock star, Pink, have something significant in common. Can you imagine? Both of them have an important message for those of us who might feel less than perfect - especially because of having had an abortion.

If you listen to pop radio or have teenagers, you have probably heard Pink’s hit single, “Pretty, Pretty Please.” It is a poignant song that flawlessly captures the struggles so many of us have in growing up and learning to be the person we were meant to be.

As I listen to her words and watch this video, I realize how seemingly insignificant events can impact who we are and how we react to our world. For the girl in the video, it wasn’t just about her teddy bear, it was a steady pattern in her life of being misjudged, misunderstood, and mistreated by those around her, people who did not see who she really was.((How Childhood Experiences Can Cause Us To Be Fearful). By the end of the story, now a young woman, the girl finds herself home, at peace in the perfection of her own being. She knows that she is perfect and she is ready to model that knowledge for her daughter.

Ernest Holmes teaches about this kind of perfection, a reflecion of the Divinity within each of us. Many of us believe in a power greater than ourselves, whether we call it God, Spirit, Universe, Divine Intelligence, or Creator. In The Science of Mind: A Philosophy, A Faith, A Way of Life, Ernest Holmes writes that “Healing is not creating a perfect idea or a perfect body; it is revealing an idea which is already perfect.”

Wow. Healing reveals to us the perfection that we already are.

I believe we are spiritual beings having a human experience. If that is true and we are made from a source that is God/Spirit/Universe, wouldn’t we have that perfection inside of us?

As a woman struggling with feelings of imperfection – manifesting in the form of guilt and shame – this idea was revelatory. Growing up Catholic, I was taught that I was born a sinner, and there was nothing perfect about me. But once I began to shift my perception and consider a different possibility, that perhaps I was not born with sin, but with a spark of my Creator, I found lasting healing. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, who discovered her way home inside herself, I discovered my way home, to the Divinity within my own being.

Today, as I listen to this song by Pink, I feel the transformation of my own soul from one born with original sin to one that is free and at peace knowing that I am whole, complete, and perfect as I am. I don’t know Pink’s spiritual philosophy, but based on the passion and truth of this song, she intuitively knows exactly who she is and who we all are. We are nothing less than perfect.


Namaste.

Surviving the Titanic

 

Do you remember what you wanted to be when you grew up? Did you dream of being an actor or an astronaut? A doctor or a nurse? An artist or a musician? Maybe you wanted to be a National Geographic photographer or a fashion designer.

When I was a little girl, I had a few good ideas about what I wanted to be when I grew up. One Halloween, I dressed up as a bride. I laugh to think about it now, but my guess is it had more to do with a longing to be beautiful and desirable than it had to do with being married. When I was older, I wanted to be a marine biologist and learn everything about dolphins and other sea creatures. In college, I wanted to be a writer. I graduated and became sidetracked with being an accountant and a business owner, and at last I am fulfilling that dream.

Growing up, I had a lot of ideas about what I would be in my life, but one thought I never had was that I would be a woman who had an abortion. Why in the world would I dream of that for myself?

There is a popular misconception that women who choose not to carry a pregnancy to term want to terminate it and are anti-life. I have yet to meet a woman who chose to have an abortion who did not value life.

I speak for myself and for many other women when I say that abortion is a painful and traumatic experience. And yet, when we make the choice to do it, we are expected to “suck it up” or pretend it never happened.

I’m reminded of euthanizing my dogs when their suffering became too much for them and they had no hope of escaping a painful death. I once had a sweet dog named Samantha who suffered cancer that gradually eroded her entire body. There was nothing I could do to stop the disease, though I tried, with chemotherapy. Her companion, Allie, outlived her by two years, but eventually succumbed to old age and illness as well. I chose to put my beloved pets to sleep instead of watching them suffer. Does that mean I don’t honor life? That I don’t know life is sacred? It couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The choice I made to end my pets’ lives was not an easy one, and neither was the process of saying goodbye. But it was by far the most loving choice I could make and one thousands of pet owners make every day. It was out of my deep love and respect for them that I made the choice to end their suffering, and it was that same love and respect that let me lie with my arms wrapped around them as they passed over.

Sometimes there are no perfect alternatives. The captain of the Titanic had to choose who got in the life boats as his ship sank. It was what he could do. I am sure he didn't imagine captaining a sinking ship anymore than a woman dreams of facing an unplanned pregnancy (Abortion can be the consequence of Other things ). Choosing abortion for an unwanted pregnancy can sometimes be the most loving choice a woman can make. Sometimes all we can do is try to find our own best answer in a quagmire of unpalatable solutions.

Abortion happens. It’s not something we plan for, dream about, or desire. It’s an unpleasant and difficult aspect of life. But it doesn’t make us “bad” people. It simply makes us human.

Namaste.

Magnet and Steel

In his 1978 hit, Walter Egan sang “With you I’m not shy/to show the way I feel/with you I might try, my secrets to reveal/for you are a magnet and I am steel.” Egan may have been singing about romantic love, but as I reflect on my experience with holding onto secrets, I realize the concept of magnet and steel — two materials that make a powerful force of connection when they meet — holds a much deeper truth.

For over a decade, I believed I was the only Catholic woman in the universe to have an abortion and hid behind a cloak of shame, never guessing that I actually have a lot of company (did I mention I had a flair for exaggeration?).

It started when I stepped out of the private little world I had kept for myself for eleven years by attending a Project Rachel retreat (Ten Year Anniversary Blog). Because of their admonition to keep my experience to myself, I held tightly to my secret back at home, even — and especially — with my closest friends.


I had (and continue to have) wonderful girlfriends. Like me, many of them were practicing Catholics at the time. I knew them from grade school, college, work, my children’s schools, and church. Once I became a parent, I didn’t see them as much as I had in earlier days; my children took top priority. As my marriage fell apart, I realized that the marriage counselor we were seeing was only trying to save the marriage. I needed my own therapist, one who would help me save me. I went out and found one.

It was with this therapist’s advice that I began to share with my best girlfriends the biggest secret of my marriage. Despite the closeness and intimacy we had as we held each other through the births of children, the deaths of several pets, and the ups and downs of marriage, I had never shared with them the truth: My first pregnancy had ended with abortion.

The first friend I shared my secret with had worked for my husband for many years, even commuted with him to work for two hours every day. Logic would dictate that she be one of the last people I have this conversation with, not the first, yet my intuition said she was the one.


With great anxiety and fear, I told her the truth of my marriage, all of it, the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. To my utter shock, when I was finished, she told me she wasn’t surprised. She cried as I cried, and told me she loved me.

My friend’s understanding and sensitivity made sharing my story with my other friends a little less difficult. As I began to open my heart, to expose the real me to my circle of friends, I discovered I had attracted women who were just like me. The statistics are that one in every three women by the age of forty-five has had an abortion. For my circle, it was twice the national average. Talk about a magnet and steel!

I am forever grateful to the therapist who gave me the homework assignment to reveal my secrets. We are not alone in more ways than we realize. Taking that one step began a journey of transformation from shame and despair into freedom and peace. 


Perhaps you can find that one person and “show the way you feel, your secrets to reveal.” On the other side of the door where your secret lies trapped is a lighter and brighter you. 

And check out the song I’ve dated myself with here (Walter Egan with Stevie Nicks) The idea of two metals attracting may be a message you’ll always remember and give you the fortitude you need to take that first step towards freedom.

 Namaste.

Hey Soul Sister

 

How many of us know this song, Hey Soul Sister, by Train? Maybe even by heart, like I do?  I listened to it so many times in the past three years that I drove my kids crazy. I could listen to it today just as much as last year or the year before. Why is the song so catchy?

According to a 2009 Harris Poll, 71 percent of Americans believe we have a soul. For Catholic and Protestant Americans, that number is even higher, 85 percent. And yet, our soul is not something we talk about in everyday conversation. 

And along comes this song . . . it is a pop hit, that’s for sure, but I am drawn to it for more reasons than its upbeat tempo and captivating melody. I love it because it connects me to the idea that I am more than this body. 


Maybe there are people out there just like me and we belong together on a whole different level – on a deep level of connection that makes no sense, yet is undeniable all the same. On a soul level. 

Soul connections may be related by blood, but many of them are not. My co-authors in Pebbles in the Pond Wave 2 are soul connections for me. We were pulled together by a connection that did not come from this physical world. We are from the United States, Australia, Brazil, Canada, New Zealand, and Norway, and yet we are connected as if we lived in the same family all our lives.  

Another soul connection for me is a woman I met through a recent mail solicitation. Can you imagine? Most people would have thrown away the mailing, thinking with the left, logical side of their brains: this was junk mail. But something more intuitive was calling me to respond to the mailing. Despite never having met the woman who sent the mailing, I feel as though we have known each other our whole lives. How beautiful is that?!


And then there is my unborn child. One of the most important soul connections of my life is the one I have with my unborn baby girl, Mary. I don’t know how this works, but I do know that I feel her presence around me and I know that my work right now is because of her presence in my life (See blog I Love You More). She is a soul sister who has been willing to go the distance with me, from abortion to lessons of self-worth and self-love, to finding my life’s purpose and work. 

Our society makes so many judgments about the experience of abortion that keep us from knowing the truth of our life. Is it possible for us to step back and ask this question: What if our child knew we were going to do this and agreed to participate in this life lesson with us? What if our baby knew exactly what he or she was getting into? What if this experience has a component of love that surpasses our worldly grasp? 


Lorna Byrne, a mother, writer and angel expert, wrote about it in her book Angels in My Hair . Byrne writes that with abortion the “baby’s soul loves you and never for one moment holds it against you that you did not give birth to it. It already knew what would happen, and still it will pour its love onto you.” 

Many of us believe in the existence of a soul. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to assert that we are connected to others on this level. And when we do make that soul connection we can have a whole new way of looking at our abortion experience . . .and maybe there will be a shift and a healing that can bless us for the rest of our lives. 

Namaste.

 

Starting a Domino Effect

As difficult a decision as it was to have an abortion when I was 29 years old, an even harder decision was to choose to divorce. Because of my deep Catholic roots and truly believing that, like everyone else in my family, I would stay married “until death do us part,” I never imagined myself in a position to make that choice.

It is just over four years since my divorce has been complete, and I only recently realized a key reason I was in denial about needing a divorce for many years. My husband was the father of the baby that I aborted. Although the abortion was something we were not able to talk about, divorcing meant that I would lose my connection to only other person involved in that hard choice. 

My ex-husband and I did not talk about the abortion after the conversation we had in the hospital the day I found out I was pregnant. (http://christinaehaas.blogspot.com/2013/10/who-really-has-abortions_21.html ). We did not talk about it the day we drove to the clinic, and we didn’t talk about it when we left. It wasn’t until we decided the time was right to start a family four years later that the subject came up, and then, only briefly. 

It wasn’t easy to get pregnant when I finally did choose to! We had a difficult time conceiving – imagine that after getting pregnant while using birth control! I wondered if the abortion had anything to do with our difficulty. After a quick conversation and a bit of research, we determined that was not possible. A few months later I became pregnant and so began another period of suppression. 

Despite our lack of emotional connection on the subject of the abortion, because of our bond in other ways as husband and wife, cutting those cords through divorce brought a finality and deeper feelings of isolation about that experience. 

It was only in watching a friend go through a similar process last year that I was finally able to see for myself how this was true for me. Sharing our stories in safe spaces with those we trust and love helps us to see the resonance of experience for ourselves. It can be hard to see beyond the branches of the trees in our own world, but as we look at the trees and even the forest of the world of those we connect with, our scope of vision expands. As I looked at the forest of my own beautiful friend’s sadness, I saw for the first time a large part of my own.

Healing from abortion truly is like peeling the layers of an onion. There are so many layers of experience to our physical, mental, emotional and spiritual bodies. As we work through the healing process, and especially when we do the work together, we bring healing not only to ourselves, but to the lives of those we open up to.


Thank you, my friend, for helping me to heal a little bit deeper. Your openness allowed me to further deepen my own healing and understand myself in a more significant way. May we start a domino effect for the millions of others who need to hear our stories.


Namaste.