Wow, I have been at this for two months, now! I'm getting faster all the time, and running for longer and longer stretches. I started a new walking program with my insurer, and with it I received a pedometer and log my steps online. I am surprised that even on a day when I'm fairly active, I am still only walking about 5,000 steps (not including my running); so I'm going to try to work on getting in more walking when I can, as the healthiest recommendation is 10,000 steps per day. I am NOT expecting to regularly hit 10,000 per day, but I know I could do more than I currently am.
For a few weeks now, I've been trying to figure out a way to pick up the pace with my running. Who knew all it would take was for a bat to come flapping around my head? This morning I was near the end of my run, and I didn't realize I had a good sprint in me at that point; but I most certainly did. I just kept running at the same pace when it swooped behind me; but, when it swooped for the second time in front of me, this white girl was like The Flash. I let out a little shriek (in spite of myself), and my little feet just moved me as fast as they could. Holy smokes... I didn't realize I could run that fast uphill. Gotta love that adrenalin. Really, I do appreciate it, though I'll be extremely happy never to have any more up-close and personal dealings with a flying mammal.
Outside of that, I've been a busy bee... trying to get as much as I can done to get my house in order. I am still having a problem with staying focused on one project at a time. That must make my husband crazy, but he does a good job of not letting it show. Perhaps, I have this problem of focus because I get bored easily... I don't really know, to be honest. Of course, I do have a three-year-old, so I guess that may factor into lack of ability to focus, too. Really, though I have to stop this because it makes me crazy to look around and see a million half-done things begging for my attention... blech.
Today, I am trying to go easy on myself, especially since a few hours ago. I logged on to Facebook and one of my friends from college posted pics of her beautifully decorated nursery, ready now for the arrival of their newest family member -- a baby girl. She did such a beautiful job, and I'm so happy for her and her husband and son. Though I do truly rejoice and celebrate in her joy and that of other friends who are expecting or just brought new babies home, damn if it doesn't remind me so acutely of my loss earlier this year. I suppose that's natural, and I guess I am just as troubled by the fact that I am still so troubled. I keep thinking I will round a corner, and sometimes I think I have; but then I get hit in the face by grief, and I wonder if I will ever really feel right again. I cried for such a long time today... not just tears-streaming-down cry but wailing-out-loud-and-rocking-on-the-floor cry... dog-coming-over-to-comfort-me cry... asking God-out-loud-to-help-me cry. Ugh... I felt a bit better after that release and decided to read The Velveteen Rabbit -- which for some reason I knew was what I HAD TO read -- to my daughter before nap time. And I took a nap, too, which helped my brain put together some pieces. I guess I've been believing for some time that just because I was "only" 2 and 1/2 months along, I should be able to "get over" this more easily. Well, like the Velveteen Rabbit, we are only real when we are loved. I loved that little baby I never got to know, and he or she was as real to me as the daughter laying on my couch. In the wise words of the Skin Horse, "Once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."
I suppose all I can do is put one foot in front of the other -- as I always do -- and realize this low shall also pass.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Pushing through the pain
Been doing lots of furniture refinishing... and one thing I know for sure is I do not ever want to do that for a living. I would if I had to, but hopefully it will never come to that. Of course, it is satisfying to look at the results and see the fruits of my labor; but, mostly it is messy, smelly work that doesn't engage the mind too much... leaving my thoughts to wander where they will, which is often to doubleplusungood places.
The nice thing is now my daughter has a pretty white table that cost me all of $10 and some labor, and the guestroom has a beautiful white bed that cost me only labor (since it was given to me for free... thanks, Dad). So, now that the bed is done, I have to make way for it in the guestroom. It's funny how grief sneaks up on you when you are least expecting it. I was packing away the diaper bags and cloth diapers that had been stored in the guestroom since my newly potty-trained little girl no longer needs them. All I could think of was the fact that these were supposed to be for the new baby. I was supposed to have a baby next month. I'm still crying, and I'm fairly sure at this point that I'll never be "over" this. Like any death, you never stop thinking of the one you lost... nothing ever makes you whole again. I say this as someone who has lost a sister and a very dear grandmother. I get that it's not the same, but in some ways it is the same. I was deeply bonded to the baby I lost and took for granted the fact that I would have that child in my life forever. That child is lost, and the loss is as real as any loss I've ever experienced.
For better or worse, though, I've got to push through this pain and embrace where I am in life. My life is truly blessed, and I'm so thankful for my mother, my husband, my daughter, my father, in-laws, cousins and friends, my home, car, my husband's good job, financial security, the freedoms afforded to me as an American, nutritious food, health insurance, my health coach, and so many other things I am sure I'm leaving out. I just had to enumerate those for myself, to remind myself.
I have to get out in the morning and run, especially since I only ran two days this week. I failed mainly because I was staying up too late, which made me not even remotely want to get up early enough to run; and it's been much too hot to run after the sun comes up. As with anything, I just have to get back into it. I can't afford to backslide. Running has been too good for my mental and physical health, so stopping isn't an option. My life has changed so drastically for the better since I began running again, and I have to remember that.
The nice thing is now my daughter has a pretty white table that cost me all of $10 and some labor, and the guestroom has a beautiful white bed that cost me only labor (since it was given to me for free... thanks, Dad). So, now that the bed is done, I have to make way for it in the guestroom. It's funny how grief sneaks up on you when you are least expecting it. I was packing away the diaper bags and cloth diapers that had been stored in the guestroom since my newly potty-trained little girl no longer needs them. All I could think of was the fact that these were supposed to be for the new baby. I was supposed to have a baby next month. I'm still crying, and I'm fairly sure at this point that I'll never be "over" this. Like any death, you never stop thinking of the one you lost... nothing ever makes you whole again. I say this as someone who has lost a sister and a very dear grandmother. I get that it's not the same, but in some ways it is the same. I was deeply bonded to the baby I lost and took for granted the fact that I would have that child in my life forever. That child is lost, and the loss is as real as any loss I've ever experienced.
For better or worse, though, I've got to push through this pain and embrace where I am in life. My life is truly blessed, and I'm so thankful for my mother, my husband, my daughter, my father, in-laws, cousins and friends, my home, car, my husband's good job, financial security, the freedoms afforded to me as an American, nutritious food, health insurance, my health coach, and so many other things I am sure I'm leaving out. I just had to enumerate those for myself, to remind myself.
I have to get out in the morning and run, especially since I only ran two days this week. I failed mainly because I was staying up too late, which made me not even remotely want to get up early enough to run; and it's been much too hot to run after the sun comes up. As with anything, I just have to get back into it. I can't afford to backslide. Running has been too good for my mental and physical health, so stopping isn't an option. My life has changed so drastically for the better since I began running again, and I have to remember that.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
New Bones on Deck
Yesterday, I went to meet with the Executive Director of the LIFE Resource Center. They actually badly need someone to come in and be the receptionist on Tuesdays. Right now, they are running the ship with a skeleton crew -- just three volunteers all told including the director, a counselor, and their admin person. I cannot adequately express my excitement at the prospect of volunteering with this agency. They are doing so much to prevent child abuse, and I consider it an honor to help. I have to wait a couple of weeks for my background check to be completed, but as soon as it's done I can begin. The director told me they are between grants, so she's very receptive to the idea of me doing fundraising and publicity. This organization once had 31 employees, and now they are down to zero. Thank God there are people that are still keeping things going even without pay.
Besides just being excited to take part in something so incredibly important and dear to my heart, I am thrilled to have an opportunity to get back to work. Yes, it's just one day a week, but I think it will be good for my spirit to have the opportunity to be of service to people outside of my home. Not to mention, it's always good for a mama's spirit to get an occasional break from her small child. Ooh, and I actually get to wear my work clothes again! That may sound ridiculous, but I am a bit excited about that.
I am amazed when I think about the journey I am on. It's only been a month and a half or so, but I am world's apart from where I was. I feel so blessed that I was able to get the motivation to exercise and thus not only avoid medication but start working towards valuable goals. I am also deeply blessed in that I have such a loving and supportive husband and mother, because without them none of these dreams would be coming true.
Besides just being excited to take part in something so incredibly important and dear to my heart, I am thrilled to have an opportunity to get back to work. Yes, it's just one day a week, but I think it will be good for my spirit to have the opportunity to be of service to people outside of my home. Not to mention, it's always good for a mama's spirit to get an occasional break from her small child. Ooh, and I actually get to wear my work clothes again! That may sound ridiculous, but I am a bit excited about that.
I am amazed when I think about the journey I am on. It's only been a month and a half or so, but I am world's apart from where I was. I feel so blessed that I was able to get the motivation to exercise and thus not only avoid medication but start working towards valuable goals. I am also deeply blessed in that I have such a loving and supportive husband and mother, because without them none of these dreams would be coming true.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Opportunities
I just made contact with a lady at the LIFE Resource Center in Picayune, a local organization that works to both prevent abuse and deal with its aftermath. I am supposed to meet with her tomorrow, and may I say I am super duper excited! She said they have a few different capacities in which volunteers can help, and I cannot wait to find out what they are. Besides just doing all the preliminary volunteering stuff (applications, scheduling, etc.), I want to talk to her about what I can do in the way of an event for National Child Abuse Prevention Month. Also, I wonder if I could help out with maybe making a facebook page to help make people more aware of this incredibly precious resource we have in our community.
Mostly, I'm just incredibly grateful for an opportunity to work with like-minded individuals who are motivated and willing to devote their time to preventing and softening the blow of child abuse. Abuse of all kinds is a scourge of our society. Hurting people hurt people it's been said, and I know it's true. I'm hoping to do a survey of some sort at the local jail to find out what percentage of the inmates have been abused. Studies have shown that criminals are much more likely to have been abused than noncriminals. In a Bureau of Justice Statistics study, Dr. Caroline Wolf Harlow reports that "between 6% and 14% of male offenders and between 23% and 37% of female offenders reported they had been physically or sexually abused before age 18." Those numbers should startle you, maybe even scare you; because that's just the prisoners they surveyed, and that's just the prisoners who happened to admit abuse or even recognize that what they experienced as children was abuse. Also, this study focused on inmates. Can you imagine how many more abuse victims there are out there? If you think you don't know someone who's been abused, you are probably wrong. And if you know someone who was abused and says they are OK and it hasn't affected them negatively, well, they are probably dying on the inside and may not even know it.
I leave the TV on something boring while Baby Boo sleeps so she can have some white noise. Well, today, Dr. Oz was on so I left it on that. I rarely ever watch his show. Anyway, on today's episode he had some women who are into what's called Feederism, apparently some weird fetish where men pay morbidly obese women to eat and eat and eat. At any rate, toward the end of the show Dr. Oz had some psychologist (or psychiatrist I'm not absolutely sure) talking to the women who needed help. He asked them "Who in your life told you you were worthless?" The woman who seemed most resistant to the help said the question didn't apply. The doctor reminded her that she had shared with him some trauma from her childhood and asked her if she didn't indeed think this was what was wrong. She basically went on to say that she had been molested and her mother knew about and allowed the abuse to go on, but this had nothing to do with her current situation. The thing is, y'all, she was serious. When my mother had her last most severe nervous breakdown, when she couldn't leave the house without having a panic attack and cried all day every day, she told me plainly that she "didn't need therapy" and that "she was over the abuse." She didn't even get how badly it had hurt her until just recently and with much therapy... she just turned 60 and is finally starting to understand how horribly she was hurt by her father's actions.
For anyone who was neglected or hurt as a child -- mentally, physically, or sexually -- know first that it isn't your fault. The guilt is not your burden to bear. Know also that if you haven't yet come to terms with your abuse, it is never too late. There are resources somewhere nearby that can help you. Please, seek them out. Choking down the pain over and over only causes more pain. I've seen it time and time again. Above all things, know that you are not alone and you do not have to suffer alone. You are worthy of love and happiness.
Mostly, I'm just incredibly grateful for an opportunity to work with like-minded individuals who are motivated and willing to devote their time to preventing and softening the blow of child abuse. Abuse of all kinds is a scourge of our society. Hurting people hurt people it's been said, and I know it's true. I'm hoping to do a survey of some sort at the local jail to find out what percentage of the inmates have been abused. Studies have shown that criminals are much more likely to have been abused than noncriminals. In a Bureau of Justice Statistics study, Dr. Caroline Wolf Harlow reports that "between 6% and 14% of male offenders and between 23% and 37% of female offenders reported they had been physically or sexually abused before age 18." Those numbers should startle you, maybe even scare you; because that's just the prisoners they surveyed, and that's just the prisoners who happened to admit abuse or even recognize that what they experienced as children was abuse. Also, this study focused on inmates. Can you imagine how many more abuse victims there are out there? If you think you don't know someone who's been abused, you are probably wrong. And if you know someone who was abused and says they are OK and it hasn't affected them negatively, well, they are probably dying on the inside and may not even know it.
I leave the TV on something boring while Baby Boo sleeps so she can have some white noise. Well, today, Dr. Oz was on so I left it on that. I rarely ever watch his show. Anyway, on today's episode he had some women who are into what's called Feederism, apparently some weird fetish where men pay morbidly obese women to eat and eat and eat. At any rate, toward the end of the show Dr. Oz had some psychologist (or psychiatrist I'm not absolutely sure) talking to the women who needed help. He asked them "Who in your life told you you were worthless?" The woman who seemed most resistant to the help said the question didn't apply. The doctor reminded her that she had shared with him some trauma from her childhood and asked her if she didn't indeed think this was what was wrong. She basically went on to say that she had been molested and her mother knew about and allowed the abuse to go on, but this had nothing to do with her current situation. The thing is, y'all, she was serious. When my mother had her last most severe nervous breakdown, when she couldn't leave the house without having a panic attack and cried all day every day, she told me plainly that she "didn't need therapy" and that "she was over the abuse." She didn't even get how badly it had hurt her until just recently and with much therapy... she just turned 60 and is finally starting to understand how horribly she was hurt by her father's actions.
For anyone who was neglected or hurt as a child -- mentally, physically, or sexually -- know first that it isn't your fault. The guilt is not your burden to bear. Know also that if you haven't yet come to terms with your abuse, it is never too late. There are resources somewhere nearby that can help you. Please, seek them out. Choking down the pain over and over only causes more pain. I've seen it time and time again. Above all things, know that you are not alone and you do not have to suffer alone. You are worthy of love and happiness.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Back In The Saddle
Despite my sincere desire to go back to bed, I got up, put my running clothes on, and went for a run this morning. It seemed really difficult today, which is probably because I only ran twice last week and the last day I ran was Wednesday. Even so, I kept on truckin' and got it done.
After I got back, I showered and brewed a pot of coffee. I actually managed to get some more work on my novel done. OK, so I haven't actually started writing it yet, but I do have it fairly roughed out on paper. The ending is still a bit fuzzy to me, but I've mostly figured out the beginning. Yes, I understand the actual writing of it will take a lot of work, but at least I've got a map. Before, when I was pantsing, I would basically just hop on a train and hope it got me where I wanted to go, and that may be a fabulous strategy for some writers; but it is not a technique that works for me. In general, I've always been a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl, but thinking back I've always been more comfortable with a bit of a plan. For instance, when traveling through Europe, I just kind of be-bopped around the continent and the UK and Ireland without any solid idea sometimes of exactly where I was going, but I had my guidebook so I had a general idea of what to do when I got there. I spent some time lost, but I managed to find my way most of the time because I had a map with me. Similarly, I'm hoping the rough outline I have of my book will enable me to spend more time enjoying the process of writing instead of wasting time wandering around trying to figure out how to get somewhere.
I feel ready at this point to begin the actual writing process. One thing I really need to do is make myself a workspace where I am comfortable. Once upon a time, before my dear daughter arrived on the scene, I had an office. Right now, the room that could be an office is being used as basically a storage room. It was pretty organized at the beginning of the year, but then when I got pregnant I started thinking about it as the new baby's room. Obviously, after the miscarriage, I have been really conflicted about what to do with it. At some point, I would like to have another baby, but I have to recognize the fact that that may not happen. I can't keep on waiting for some event that or may not occur. I just have to go with how things are at this point, and at this point I have a completely uninhabited room that needs to be put to use. I'm thinking... "How much would I spend to have a brand new room added onto the house or to have part of the attic finished and stairs installed to get there?" Into the thousands of dollars, if I had it to spend; but all it takes now is some elbow grease... what am I waiting for?
About a year and a half ago, I started the Flylady system, and that's helped me get my house largely under control, but I have fallen off the wagon repeatedly. I'm really fired up now to get rid of stuff because I'm finally realizing how much stuff I want to do and I'm tired of spending my time organizing crap I don't even really need. I want to do stuff not have stuff.
Honestly, even when I was just planning on writing, I wasn't feeling quite the urgency that I have since last week when I discovered I have a clear and present passion to start fund-raising for a local non-profit that works to prevent child abuse. I have really been brain-storming a million ideas of how I can help and researching what is out there. The fact is, if I'm able to do what I want to do -- with my novel, with my volunteer efforts, with my family -- I won't have the time to deal with taming the beast that my house keeps becoming because I have too damned much stuff. Consequently, I have been shedding more and more and more. I cannot flourish in chaos.
Another thing I've figured out I would like to do is host a part for my mother for her 61st birthday... I'm going to host her "Sweet 61" next year. I've got less than a year... what WILL I do? Haha. Really, though, I was thinking she has never (at least not in the 34 years I have been alive) had a party. I know she grew up poor with two brothers and two sisters, so I doubt there was much fanfare when she was a child either. She always made my birthday special, and she deserves a special birthday where others can celebrate her.
So many worthwhile plans, so little time. What plans do you have? What's getting in your way?
After I got back, I showered and brewed a pot of coffee. I actually managed to get some more work on my novel done. OK, so I haven't actually started writing it yet, but I do have it fairly roughed out on paper. The ending is still a bit fuzzy to me, but I've mostly figured out the beginning. Yes, I understand the actual writing of it will take a lot of work, but at least I've got a map. Before, when I was pantsing, I would basically just hop on a train and hope it got me where I wanted to go, and that may be a fabulous strategy for some writers; but it is not a technique that works for me. In general, I've always been a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl, but thinking back I've always been more comfortable with a bit of a plan. For instance, when traveling through Europe, I just kind of be-bopped around the continent and the UK and Ireland without any solid idea sometimes of exactly where I was going, but I had my guidebook so I had a general idea of what to do when I got there. I spent some time lost, but I managed to find my way most of the time because I had a map with me. Similarly, I'm hoping the rough outline I have of my book will enable me to spend more time enjoying the process of writing instead of wasting time wandering around trying to figure out how to get somewhere.
I feel ready at this point to begin the actual writing process. One thing I really need to do is make myself a workspace where I am comfortable. Once upon a time, before my dear daughter arrived on the scene, I had an office. Right now, the room that could be an office is being used as basically a storage room. It was pretty organized at the beginning of the year, but then when I got pregnant I started thinking about it as the new baby's room. Obviously, after the miscarriage, I have been really conflicted about what to do with it. At some point, I would like to have another baby, but I have to recognize the fact that that may not happen. I can't keep on waiting for some event that or may not occur. I just have to go with how things are at this point, and at this point I have a completely uninhabited room that needs to be put to use. I'm thinking... "How much would I spend to have a brand new room added onto the house or to have part of the attic finished and stairs installed to get there?" Into the thousands of dollars, if I had it to spend; but all it takes now is some elbow grease... what am I waiting for?
About a year and a half ago, I started the Flylady system, and that's helped me get my house largely under control, but I have fallen off the wagon repeatedly. I'm really fired up now to get rid of stuff because I'm finally realizing how much stuff I want to do and I'm tired of spending my time organizing crap I don't even really need. I want to do stuff not have stuff.
Honestly, even when I was just planning on writing, I wasn't feeling quite the urgency that I have since last week when I discovered I have a clear and present passion to start fund-raising for a local non-profit that works to prevent child abuse. I have really been brain-storming a million ideas of how I can help and researching what is out there. The fact is, if I'm able to do what I want to do -- with my novel, with my volunteer efforts, with my family -- I won't have the time to deal with taming the beast that my house keeps becoming because I have too damned much stuff. Consequently, I have been shedding more and more and more. I cannot flourish in chaos.
Another thing I've figured out I would like to do is host a part for my mother for her 61st birthday... I'm going to host her "Sweet 61" next year. I've got less than a year... what WILL I do? Haha. Really, though, I was thinking she has never (at least not in the 34 years I have been alive) had a party. I know she grew up poor with two brothers and two sisters, so I doubt there was much fanfare when she was a child either. She always made my birthday special, and she deserves a special birthday where others can celebrate her.
So many worthwhile plans, so little time. What plans do you have? What's getting in your way?
Friday, August 3, 2012
Not a post about Chick Fil A!
There is currently an INSANE amount of press about the Chick Fil A debacle. May I say that I cannot stand with those who rallied around Cathy by buying chicken. I understand that was symbolic, but I am not sure many who stood in line waiting for their orders understood the full depth of the debate. Anyway, that's my little take on that, and I'm not going to waste any more time on the subject.
What I am writing about is the following heinous story I came across while reading some wholly separate political article:
I don't know what to do with all this anger and hurt I feel about this. Because my mother was a victim of childhood sexual abuse, I know how deep the scars go; and I still cry thinking about the little girl that was my mother having no choice but to accept the horrors being perpetrated against her.
I want to know what to do, what to do! Prompt legislatures to make tougher and tougher sentences for these criminals who are so clearly incapable of controlling themselves? Get involved in the community and work with organizations like CASA to help as much as I can one-on-one? Clearly, something has to give.
Doing a little research (just now) I discovered that April 2013 will mark the 30th anniversary of the first National Child Abuse Prevention month. I've fairly well decided to make it my mission to make this a big deal in my community, as big a deal as I can. What I've got to do is figure out the stats for the county in which I live, which means I am going to have to contact local officials and experts in the field. I can't figure out what needs doing until I figure out what is already being done. I don't know if my efforts will amount to a hill of beans, but I feel this is worthwhile. Of course, research is going to be extremely time-consuming; but, hey, at least all my time on the computer can actually be fruitful!
What I am writing about is the following heinous story I came across while reading some wholly separate political article:
Cops: Couple produced child porn with 4-year-old
Submitted by Ashley Porter
NORTH FORT MYERS, Florida -- It started out with a cell phone found in a shopping cart, and ended with a couple arrested on charges that they engaged in sexual acts with a 4-year-old girl.The phone was found in a Cape Coral Walmart earlier this month and turned over to law enforcement. An FBI Innocent Images Task Force& agent found child pornography images on the cell phone.
A detective with the Lee County Sheriff's Office Sexual Predator Unit recognized the phone number as belonging to a man who is listed as a sexual offender.I appreciate the reporting on this story, which points out that one of these two deviants was in fact convicted nine years ago! Can I ask a question? Why was this pervert allowed to walk the streets ever again? Are we not at a point in our society where we understand that sickos like this don't stop being sickos? Because he was allowed out of prison, he was allowed to destroy another life. And due to God's providence that this sicko also happened to be a moron and left his phone behind in a shopping cart, the child seen in the video was rescued. I don't know whose child this is, and let me express my deepest most heartfelt intention to pray for her and her ability to recover from the damage that has been done to her so early in her life. Sexuality is a God-given beautiful part of being human, and the abuser forever taints and thus steals that part of his or her victim.
That man, 33-year-old Alan Johnson, had been convicted on two federal child pornography charges in 2003, and sentenced to 70 months in prison. Johnson had pleaded guilty and didn't appeal his sentence.
A search warrant executed this week at the house Johnson shares with 37-year-old Jennifer Sparks helped detectives find evidence of the two producing child pornography on a cell phone camera, including images and videos of the two engaging in sex acts with a 4-year-old, according to the Lee County Sheriff's Office.
Upon contacting the Polk County Sheriff's Office, detectives were able to find the little girl and turn custody of her over to the Florida Department of Children and Families.
According to their Facebook pages, Johnson and Sparks run a website together that sells sex toys.
I don't know what to do with all this anger and hurt I feel about this. Because my mother was a victim of childhood sexual abuse, I know how deep the scars go; and I still cry thinking about the little girl that was my mother having no choice but to accept the horrors being perpetrated against her.
I want to know what to do, what to do! Prompt legislatures to make tougher and tougher sentences for these criminals who are so clearly incapable of controlling themselves? Get involved in the community and work with organizations like CASA to help as much as I can one-on-one? Clearly, something has to give.
Doing a little research (just now) I discovered that April 2013 will mark the 30th anniversary of the first National Child Abuse Prevention month. I've fairly well decided to make it my mission to make this a big deal in my community, as big a deal as I can. What I've got to do is figure out the stats for the county in which I live, which means I am going to have to contact local officials and experts in the field. I can't figure out what needs doing until I figure out what is already being done. I don't know if my efforts will amount to a hill of beans, but I feel this is worthwhile. Of course, research is going to be extremely time-consuming; but, hey, at least all my time on the computer can actually be fruitful!
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Getting Personal
I wasn't actually intending to write today, but I am convulsing just a bit over the following comments by Rep. Diane Black (R-TN) on her facebook page:
My family has a safety cushion for emergencies, and we would have been ready to tap into it if our insurance had not paid for it. Thankfully, we didn't have to. But what about some women who might not have that resource who decide to just wait so they don't have to eat into their family's grocery budget? Why should this drug be considered any differently than any other life-improving or life-sustaining drug out there?
I keep hearing the argument about religious freedom. I believe in that, too! One's right to religious freedom is sacred, but it is no more sacred than what goes on in a woman's womb. My appreciation for reproductive choice existed to some extent before my experience, but it increased greatly after my experience. I thought "How terrible would it be if I didn't just have to deal with the tragedy of my child dying inside of me but also had to deal with jumping through a bunch of bureaucratic hoops to get the care I need?" A woman should not be accountable to some bureaucrat for her choices on what she does or does not do with her uterus. No one has a greater stake in what goes on in her uterus than the woman who owns said uterus!
I'm certain I will have more to rant about regarding this specific topic at a later time. In the meantime, what do you think about the debates surrounding this issue?
In the post I just made yesterday, I talked about my experience with the drug Misoprostol. Misoprostol is an abortion-inducing drug, and thankfully it was covered by my husband's employer's insurance. My child was dead, but my only alternatives were wait it out, have surgery (D&C), or take a pill (Misoprostol) that would help me deliver. So, let's visit the options, shall we? I could wait around for a month or two for my body, which very much thought everything was fine and was full of pregnancy-sustaining hormones; have someone poke around in my uterus with a vacuum; or take a pill for a few days that would induce labor that would eventually occur anyway when my body figured out that "Wait, we're not sustaining a life anymore." The choice was obvious for me, and I'm certain it's obvious for countless other women put in these terrible situations.
My family has a safety cushion for emergencies, and we would have been ready to tap into it if our insurance had not paid for it. Thankfully, we didn't have to. But what about some women who might not have that resource who decide to just wait so they don't have to eat into their family's grocery budget? Why should this drug be considered any differently than any other life-improving or life-sustaining drug out there?
I keep hearing the argument about religious freedom. I believe in that, too! One's right to religious freedom is sacred, but it is no more sacred than what goes on in a woman's womb. My appreciation for reproductive choice existed to some extent before my experience, but it increased greatly after my experience. I thought "How terrible would it be if I didn't just have to deal with the tragedy of my child dying inside of me but also had to deal with jumping through a bunch of bureaucratic hoops to get the care I need?" A woman should not be accountable to some bureaucrat for her choices on what she does or does not do with her uterus. No one has a greater stake in what goes on in her uterus than the woman who owns said uterus!
I'm certain I will have more to rant about regarding this specific topic at a later time. In the meantime, what do you think about the debates surrounding this issue?
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