My Baby, My Body
A good friend of mine recently posted on the political implications of recent abortion related court precedence from a liberal perspective. Today, I watched an episode of the remade Battlestar Galactica that also dealt with the issue. The day made me sad. It made me reflect on my own story...
I had walked away from faith, given up on God. I moved in with a boyfriend thinking that the great sex was indicative of his love for me. I was in the best shape of my life, felt great about myself, and had such a low body fat percentage, that pregnancy was impossible. I had stopped menstruating completely six months prior. My conviction could be stifled. Life was finally fun. There were no foreseeable risks.
Until the day I conceived. There had been no indication that it could happen. Yet, here I was with what I had thought was a severe stomach flu and a pregnancy test showing very clearly TWO blue lines. The test dropped to the floor as my hands went numb from shock. The unsteady linoleum of the bathroom brought me quickly to my knees. With my forehead against the floor and my eyes closed against my dizziness, I prayed my first prayer in several months, "Oh, God. What have I done?"
15 minutes later, I gathered enough strength and courage to tell the boyfriend that I was pregnant. He told me he wanted me to have an abortion.
At that time, I had been excommunicated by my parents. I would find no support from them. But, somehow, no matter how much I didn't want my life interrupted, reduced to poverty, single parenthood, or otherwise ruined, I could not terminate the life inside of me. I hated it. I hated that life. But, it was life. Though my actions in part caused that life to begin, it was not mine to take.
I told the boyfriend that he had two choices. The first was to be a loving father. The second was to let me walk away and to never come after me. If he chose the latter, I would in no way hold him responsible for the child. But, he could also have nothing to do with it or me.
At first, he chose to let me leave. But as I was packing my bags, with nowhere to go, he stopped me and told me to stay. I did.
For nine months, I struggled. I prayed only one prayer, "God, help me want this child." I vomited nearly every day for 6 months. I had a pinched sciatic nerve beginning in month 5 that was so severe, I had to be carried to the toilet. By month 8, the kicking baby had torn one of my lower abdominal muscles. My boyfriend lost his physical attraction to me the moment I began to show, which because of my low body fat percentage was at 2 months. By 9 months, I had gained far more weight than I should have, reducing my self confidence to nothing. My parents called my child "illegitimate" and nothing but a "consequence" of my sin. I had asked my mother if she would at least come to the birth to help me out. It took her and my father until my last trimester to decide that she would, in fact, be there. Meanwhile, I worked full time for all nine months of my pregnancy.
At 7 months, the pre-IPO company I worked for lost their funding, and after laying off 2/3 of the employees, I processed my own termination. As I lost my insurance with my job, my boyfriend
agreed to marry me in order that I could be placed on his plan. We were married within a month. However, by that time, I had begun working for another company.
Finally, the day came when the contractions became consistent. My mother came, and I labored at home for many hours. The maternal instinct was enough to make me insist upon an all-natural child birth, but still, I had no love or desire for this responsibility about to come. With little time to spare, I arrived at the hospital and delivered. The creature that came out of my body was a carbon-copy of her father. I was disappointed. I thought that something so much a part of my body would resemble me in some way. I held her, but my joy was the relief of no longer being pregnant.
But then, I nursed my baby. And God decided to answer that one prayer from a very unworthy woman. There is no logical explanation. I simply loved that baby. I knew that I would die for that baby, and life worth living was life for that baby's behalf. This was my daughter. In a moment, 9 months of absolute hell, of sickness, rejection, insecurity, and pain, were all worth it.
God used the miracle of life to change me wholly. In the core of my being I knew that I could not raise a child without at least imparting the knowledge of God's grace. I knew that I could never expect her to have any sort of saving faith with a mother whose example was in opposition to it. And I knew my baby needed a mama to teach her truth. God had entrusted her to me for that purpose. He had caused this miracle to show me who He was, and to make me depend upon Him.
Since having that baby, my life has been hard. I have given up everything of worldly value - the education for which I had received a scholarship, the career I wanted, financial security, freedom to be young, freedom to be selfish. Because I chose to remain with her father for as long as I did, I even gave up the freedom to have a good marriage.
But, I have gained a life. In some ways, I have gained two. My daughter is precious to me. She is the best thing that has ever happened in my life. It is through her, that I understood God's grace and faithfulness. It is through her that I learned the JOY in self-sacrifice. To see her learn and grow has been far more fulfilling than the career of my dreams or a luxury home. To hear her say, "I love you, Mama" every day reminds me that I have been given far more than I deserve. She is my joy, my treasure, my gift. I have gained her wonderful life, and God has used her to give me mine.
Now, the husband is gone and reconciliation has occurred between my parents and me. My daughter is now a much loved grandchild and no longer a consequence.
There have been real consequences that have been difficult. But these are the consequences to the relationship that should never have been. The life of my daughter is a reflection of God's grace.
Six years later, and I am almost ready to have a home large enough to offer a spare room for the young girl willing to fight for the life of her unborn baby. Sure, terminating that living, growing, part of "her body" would likely make her life easier. But, she would miss out on the wonderful blessing of her child. If she is willing, I will stand by her side and support her, love her, and help her. She will not be alone.
Christians, I do have one challenge for you. You say that abortion is wrong, and I stand by you in that belief. But, do not condemn the poor girl for her unplanned pregnancy. She will suffer enough for it. If you want her to deliver that child, make it a feasible option. She may lose her home as a result. Can you provide one for her? She may lose everyone she loves and feel utterly alone. Will you love her? She will be terrified of her pregnancy and her unforeseeable future. Will you comfort her and stand by her through it all? Yes, we must stand up for what is right. But, in so doing, let us dare not to forget the two greatest commandments in all of scripture. "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind, with all your soul, and with all your strength." and "Love your neighbor as yourself."