A Manifesto

I heard Cheryl Strayed speak once about why she wrote her memoir, Wild. She said up until that point, her life was completely encompassed by the loss of her mother. The question that consumed her, "Why did she leave so young and so early?" framed her life.

That's how it feels for me with abortion. It began 30 years ago, in 1988, when my childhood BFF found out she was pregnant after being date raped (and drugged?) at a college party. She had been a virgin and had no idea she was pregnant.  Four years later, it became more personal for me when I found myself with an unplanned pregnancy.

Like Cheryl Strayed, there has been one experience that has framed my life. It all revolves around abortion. I've spent decades asking myself two interrelated questions.

Having been raised in a fairly strict Catholic household, the first question was "How do I get past this?", because the fact is, for me especially with my religious upbringing, it had some pretty intense fallout. Especially when I started having my own family and was able to "see" my decision as I watched my babies come into the world.

Once I was on my way to finding the answer to the first question, the second question that began to take over my brain was "Why does abortion exist?". I am still wrestling with that question. I have a lot of thoughts and information from my own experience and from listening to the stories of other women who made the same choice I did. I love the way the Universe works and I am seeing a tapestry being woven as I lean into this question with curiosity.

My purpose and direction gets refined and is having more clarity with time. The continued threat to a woman's reproductive freedom gives it more urgency. There are three distinct components to it.

I believe many women who've had an abortion(s) and have feelings of regret or grief afterwards often feel alone. The Pro-choice movement denies that there are aftereffects, so they mostly likely cannot find support there. The Pro-Life movement condemns their action. They may feel left behind or left out. Where can they turn? Where do they fit in now? Building community for women who've experienced abortion is the first part of my mission.

The second piece is to help those who have unresolved feelings from their abortion to come to terms with those feelings. After spending over a decade on find the answers for myself to question #1, I've come up with a three part process to help women address those feelings and bring them back to wholeness. Healing for women who've experienced an abortion is the second component of my work. 

The last aspect I feel deeply committed to is to bring healing to the divisiveness in our country around this issue. I think most women who've had an abortion never dreamed they'd be part of this "club" and would have preferred not to ever faced that decision. But our world, is not a perfect and safe place. We make this decision because it is the least onerous one for us. How can we make this world a different and better place where this choice isn't so necessary? There are ways to reduce abortion without taking away a woman's reproductive freedom. I believe we can come to more peaceful resolutions around this issue. This third component is imperative. 

Who am I? I am a woman, a mother, a sister, a daughter, a granddaughter and a girlfriend.

I believe in women's freedom, women's intuition and our ability to make good decisions.

I believe in the power of sisterhood to transform lives and the world.

I believe Divinity lives inside us and wholeness, happiness and joy are our birthrights.

And I believe the power of love and connection can make anything possible.

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.

Safety, Not Secrets

Do you have secrets? Most of us do. We keep secrets for a variety of reasons. We don’t want to hurt people’s feelings. We don’t want to open ourselves up to criticism or judgment. Sometimes we don’t want to acknowledge the shadow part of ourselves. For me, the secret I kept of my abortion falls into those last two categories.

Our world is full of judgment of others. We judge the way people dress, their mannerisms, the jobs they have, their friends and family dynamics.  Many of us were raised in personally limiting environments, taught to believe the only way to have it all is to be the best in a world of scarcity. In that paradigm, nobody wins. With that message, we lean towards judgment as a way of feeling better about ourselves.

I read about caring for children who have suffered from trauma. One of the best things adults can do for these children is give them a safe place, a place where they know they are protected. Without that safe place, they will stay afraid and be unable to heal.

How that resonated with me! I stayed in fear - lived in fear - for over ten years, unable to find support to help me heal from my choice of abortion when I was 29 years old. How many of us could have benefitted from having a safe place to heal from abortion?


It's confusing really - there are judgments from all sides, from people who are "pro-life" and people who are "pro-choice". Whether it is because of judgmental attitudes or actual violence, there are few safe places for a woman who needs to release her feelings, whatever they may be. 

It happened to me many years ago, in my gynecologist's office. I decided to talk to her about my abortion. She was pro-choice and made it very clear to me that she thought I had made a perfectly legitimate choice and I should simply put it behind me and try to forget it. Why should I think any more about it? By the time I left her office, I felt like an overly sensitive adolescent girl.  She must be right! I was determined to “just get over it” and not look back.

The problem was, in a world that seeks to preserve life at all costs and is more frightened by death that anything else, how could I “just get over it”?  


Over time, physical and emotional symptoms became chronic conditions. I built up quite a medical file over those years. Until I allowed my grief, shame and sadness out, I could not be a healthy and whole person. 

I have done years of work to come to a feeling of peace and freedom about my choice to have an abortion. But something that helped me the most is knowing that I am not alone. In sharing our stories, we not only give each other community, but we allow each other to be our authentic selves, and by doing that, we create a safe place.  

We are one in every three women you meet. Chances are good you know many of us already. We may be your girlfriends, your best friend, your mother or your daughter. Let's create a safe place for healing, where we can end the isolation and open the door to peace and freedom.

"It is in giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.” St. Francis of Assisi.


Namaste.

 

 

 

 

The Twins, A Lesson in Ackowledging Repressed Feelings

I do not remember birthdays very well. Anniversaries even less. But there is one birthday/anniversary that I always remember.

The twins across the street were born five months after my husband and I moved into our first home. We left a gift on their doorstep shortly after their birth, but since it was January, snowy, and both parents worked, we rationalized that a visit should wait. It did not occur to me at the time that my baby would have been born that same month, if I had not had an abortion seven months earlier.


I had repressed my experience immediately. But somewhere in my mind I knew, because I put off meeting the twins for a number of months. It was virtually unavoidable come spring, when everyone was outside, anxious to be in the fresh air after the harsh, cold winter. 

For the next four years, my husband and I were cordial, but not much more. These same neighbors invited us over for drinks and dessert upon occasion, doing their best to build community in the neighborhood. It wasn’t until we decided to have our own children that I finally opened up to the friendship offered by our neighbors.

In 1997, I had a daughter, then in 1998, a son, four and six years younger, respectively, than the twins. But the age difference did not matter. The twins were like siblings to my kids and we became very close over the grade school years. 

A beautiful relationship evolved between our families, and one that would become bittersweet for me over time as I began to allow the repressed pieces of my life to come into the light.

A miscarriage in 2003 rocked my world, reminding me of the abortion I had eleven years earlier, before I was a friend to the twins and a mother to my own children. As a devout Catholic, I was shaken to my core thinking about what I had done. And looking at my own children, knowing the miracle and beauty of them did not make it any easier. In acknowledging the totality of that choice, I realized for the first time that the twins were born in the same month as my baby would have been born. 

I wondered at the coincidence of being neighbors with these children, who were living and breathing in this physical world the way my own daughter might have been if she had been born. This knowledge was tremendously painful, and the following two years, especially, on the twins’ birthdays, it was hard to accept. 

The third year, something shifted.

 

 

Instead of living in the past, wondering what my own child might be doing, my perspective changed. I saw that God in His truly infinite wisdom had given me a chance to know extraordinary young people at a time I did not believe I deserved it, while simultaneously allowing my children to know the love of “older siblings”. 

It blows my mind to see how something once so painful to me could be made right, all the while, unbeknownst to those taking part.

The twins are at college, and we have moved away. But their family will always hold a special place in my heart and the hearts of my children. 

That is the miracle that I live with now.

Women who have chosen abortions are as worthy of these miracles as anyone else. All it takes is a step back to look at life through a new lense.

Do you have an annviersary story? Or a new perspective? Where are the miracles in your life that you have missed?

Namaste.