I Wanted An Abortion

I was 22-years-old, single, broke, and feeling desperately alone. I was terrified. 

I was pregnant. 

It was my last semester of college. I was student teaching at the time, so I had no income. I could not believe that I had gotten pregnant. The few people that knew about it were pretty surprised, too. The only people that knew about my pregnancy at that time were the ones in my life that I knew loved me enough to be honest without being judgemental, empathize with me without selfishness, and lovingly sit by my side while I tried to work out all of my emotions and options.

I cried almost daily and I begged God for a miscarriage. I slept very little, but wanted to sleep constantly. As the weeks passed and my pregnancy became more obvious, the need to tell people grew. That was the hardest part, I think. The imminent shame, judgement, and pain (both felt and caused) was too much to bear. I didn't want to have to go through that. I couldn't do it.

I regularly cried and talked to one of my closest friends, who happens to be pro-choice and who shall remain unnamed, about how I felt. One day after student teaching, I knew the time to tell everyone was near. While sprawled across her bed, I cried like I hadn't cried before. While flailing my hands wildly in front of my abdomen, I said to her, "I don't want this! I want it out of me! I need it out of me right now. I seriously want it gone. I can't do this any longer." I meant every word. I had already called Planned Parenthood to inquire about the cost of an abortion. My friend listened well. But she knows me well, too. She responded, "If I knew that you would wake up tomorrow or the next day and be okay with that decision, I would take you there right now and help you." But she knew my convictions. Regardless of her convictions, she knew where I stood. Instead of giving in to my emotions that week, she just let me cry.

As the weeks went on and I began to share the news with people, my fears did come to pass. "So now we know how you really are." "You're so judgemental to believe that sex outside of marriage is wrong." "You used to be such a good girl." The words cut like a hot knife through my core. I knew what I believed to be right and wrong. I had made a mistake...but I was still the same person with the same beliefs. Those that pointed fingers and called me judgemental spat the most hurtful, judgemental words at me. Maybe they truly felt that this was fair, given my worldview.

But in the end, with the unwavering support of those closest to me, with strength that can only be explained as coming from the Holy Spirit, and most importantly with the unconditional love of the Father, I made it through. After months of considering whether I should parent or place my child for adoption with a loving family, I chose to be a momma.

I write all of this to say that I get it. While I can't begin to personally understand every single person's experience, I can say that I fully get why one may choose abortion. For any number of reasons and from any number of backgrounds, abortion can seem like the right option. I personally know people that have chosen to end their pregnancies. This piece is not meant to be a judgement against anyone for making that choice. God offers unconditional love, forgiveness, and redemption. It's yours for the taking.

But I do want to try to encourage those faced with an unplanned pregnancy. Before you choose to end the pregnancy, and so the precious the life growing inside of you, please just take a minute. Try to consider a different perspective. You can get through the pregnancy and you can bring your child into the world. Ignore the lies and the judgemental glances. Find someone that you can trust; someone that will consider the best interests of both you and your little one. You have options and you have more strength inside you than you can fathom.

I Love My Children Differently

It's been a long time since I've written. Over a year it seems. I've thought about picking up the keyboard time and time again, with words in my head begging to come out, only to be reminded of the countless other things that need to be done first. The list, I'm sure you know, is never-ending. Nevertheless, I do enjoy writing. So even if it is sporadically, write I shall.

I decided that there could be nothing more appropriate to be shared today, Mother's Day 2015, than the days that my children were born. I'll spare you the bloody details of painful labor, epidural placements, and a doctor that should take a patient seriously when she says, "Ouch, that hurts!" Allow me to skip straight to the good parts: The moments my children entered the world.

October 29th, 2006, seventeen minutes after midnight to be exact. Surrounded by three of my best girlfriends, Laura, Chrissi, and Cherie, after about nineteen and a half hours of labor, Malachi made his grand entrance with screams that I'm sure were heard throughout the hospital. The doctor placed him on my stomach and I was frozen. My friends were laughing and crying at the same time. I think I remember giggling a little. I barely reached my shaky hand to his goo-covered body, terrified to touch him for a split second before he was whisked across the room to be assessed, cleaned, and wrapped. I laid my head back in relief as the doctor cleaned me up. One of the girls stayed by my side while the other two stood by Malachi and took pictures. Eventually, a nurse brought Malachi to me swaddled as snug as could be. My legs were still in stirrups and I was feeling quite awkward, so I asked the nurse to hand Malachi to Laura instead of me. I just wanted to get cleaned up and comfortable before snuggling my new bundle. Eventually, the doctor finished up. I asked the girls to hand Malachi to me and to leave us alone for about ten minutes or so. I looked at my baby's little face and said, "It's just us kid. You and me against the world. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I promise that I'm going to be the best mom that I can." As I went on to nurse my boy for the first time, I still stared at him in shock, unable to believe that this little bitty person belonged to me. The weight of the situation was too heavy to bear. Eventually, a nurse came in and told me that it was time for Malachi to go to the nursery and that another nurse would be by to take me to my new room. Later, on my way to my room, the nurse wheeled me past the nursery window and said, "Take a look at your baby." I responded, "Which one is he?" That is still funny to me. I had a son, but I had no idea who he was. I would spend the next several years of my life getting to know him. As you know, our story went on to have happy endings--and new beginnings.

With that, we fast forward about six and half years. June 23, 2013. I went to a different hospital for Isaac's birth and had a much better experience. Email me if you want recommendations. This time, I had my amazing husband by my side, as well as his wonderful mother, and my dear best friend, Sarah. I want to share a little more detail leading up to Isaac's birth just because I feel it's worth sharing. I had studied and prepared for months in hopes of a natural birth. I even purchased an inflatable labor tub from the hospital. About five hours in, I couldn't handle the pain any longer. "Yes you can," cheered Jonathan. "No I can't," I protested. "Yes you can!" he repeated. "Quit arguing with me. It doesn't help!" I barked. In came the anesthesiologist. I wanted to hug the man--or woman--I don't really remember. I just remember I was so glad that they were there. About thirty minutes after the pain medicine took effect, Isaac was born. 10:27 am. For some reason--maybe experience, maybe support--my reaction to this boy's birth was much different than with Malachi's. I grabbed him with both hands as quickly as I could, completely ignorant of the blood and goo, and snuggled him to me. I was crying and laughing and crying more. I remember saying, "Hey little guy! I'm so glad you're here. What a rough morning, huh?" Isaac just felt so familiar and comfortable to me. Motherhood didn't feel so scary anymore.

Early parenting of my boys continues to be as different as their birth experiences. Their different personalities, likes and dislikes, and strengths and weaknesses are what makes parenting these two kids an adventure. When Malachi was born, I loved him more than I ever knew was possible. Then Isaac came along and my capacity for love increased. I'm certain that, should the Lord see fit to gift us with more children, my love will grow still. While I love them equally, I love them differently--because they're different people. I love Malachi with snuggles, hugs, and kisses while I love Isaac with tickles, tackles, and lots of loud laughter. While Malachi begs to not be tickled, Isaac cannot sit still long enough to be snuggled. Regardless of how I show them love, my boys are loved and loved fiercely.

My Husband is Not Enough

My husband is not enough for me. He is not loving enough, kind enough, forgiving enough, selfless enough, or thoughtful enough to keep me happy. Jonathan does NOT complete me.

Growing up in this society, a girl is brainwashed with certain expectations for a man. It all starts with that perfect Prince Charming she sees in the movies. She wants someone to ride in on the white horse, rescue her from the evil stepmother, save her from a life of pain, despair, and brokenness. She wants that Jerry Maguire who will complete her. This desire in her heart does not happen upon her by mistake or by society's doing. The fairy tales do not place that longing there, but do attempt to show her what would fulfill it. And so she searches for him. That perfect man. "The One."

When she does this, she may fall for someone who at first appears as if he might be just the right fit. She may even marry under the false impression that she has found The One. Then, inevitably, he will wrong her. He may forget their anniversary, stop telling her she's beautiful, or forget to show her affection. They may argue, he may try harder and impress her again. But, eventually, he will fail again. He always does. They may even both change, or grow apart if you will. She will become angry, bitter, resentful, unforgiving, and even begin to wonder if she made a mistake. "I thought he was the one. He used to pursue me. He used to give up everything for me. Maybe I married him too soon. Maybe I was too young. Maybe there's someone better. There has to be someone better."

Or maybe some will make the mistake I have found myself falling into. You see, I understood that no man would be perfect. I understood that my husband had flaws. But sometimes before I even realize what is happening, I find myself trying to improve him, tweak him, and even [gasp] change him. Recently, I found myself wanting Jonathan to be more of an initiator or planner. I wanted him to schedule a surprise date night or plan a family outing. And I did not want to tell him that I wanted these things. I wanted him to want to do it on his own. Sound familiar, ladies? But Jonathan has never been one to do those things. It is just not how his mind works, and I've always known that. I've always accepted that about him. So when I suddenly became angry at him for not being what I wanted, he was left confused and I was left unsatisfied. Needless to say, a minor marital battle ensued.

When that happens, as I'm sure it will again, I have to go back to The Perfect One. I have to remember the Truth. When I feel that desire, longing, aching, and even disappointment creeping up in my heart, it takes a work of the Spirit to remind me that I'm looking to the wrong man. I'm looking to an imperfect man to fully satisfy me. It won't happen. It's not possible for him to do that and it is not fair of me to expect that of him. 

Jesus is the only One that has given up everything for us, ladies. He's the only One that loves us with a perfect love, knew all of our deepest, darkest secrets, and forgave us while we rejected Him. When that feeling of emptiness begins to surface again, we must remember that God put that need in our hearts and only God can perfectly fulfill it. Only when we are fully satisfied in Him will we experience true joy and completion.

*This post written with the knowledge and approval of the amazing, wonderful, intelligent, thoughtful, generous, caring, loving (albeit imperfect) Jonathan Staley.