What's your Story?

Please enjoy this one last wise blog by our guest guru, deliverance:

“How can you feel so much for another person, a complete stranger?”

Recently this question was posed in my Abnormal Psychology class. It resonated with me because it seems to articulate one of the most significant obstacles in the

complex world of abortion, which is that we see each other as separate.

"She is different," the woman says, who is 6 weeks and was in the waiting room with another woman who is "showing." "How can she do that to a baby?"

"They aren't like me. I am 40 and done having children. I've never planned on coming here," she explains, as if all other patients have visions of their reprodutive futures.

"I am different than them. I care," she tells me, angered by patients in the waiting room who have the nerve to laugh in an abortion clinic.

Nobody plans to have an abortion at 22 weeks, or at 40 years old. The way people deal with having to make tough decisions is not uniform; some laugh, others cry, and a few might not even acknowledge the difficulty of making such decisions until years later.

When I began training for my job, I also wondered what it would be like to talk about intimate details of a "stranger's" life. When I found myself invested in the most essential part of my job, though--making sure patients are listened and attended to--all such reservations disappeared.

I suppose what I'm saying can be put into two words: Trust women.

Sympathize, imagine, discuss, do what you have to do--but I am as you are.

There are differences among us, such as class, race, and most importantly in this case, gender, but we all want to feel like we are creating happy and fulfilling lives for ourselves and those we love.

If we are supplying someone else's ability to live, and decide we cannot continue to do such, know that it isn't easy--but it's also not your place to judge. At the risk of sounding preachy, let go of that which you cannot control (and how sad it is that control over women's bodies has become sanctioned by law).

If I had to identify the single most important thing abortion care has taught me in the precious 13 months I have been benfitting from it, it is that we should never judge others, for we never know another person's story, unless we ask.

Image: One Heart, One World

Lean on Me

I was fortunate enough to have several friends come to me recently to tell me their abortion stories. I had only mentioned my work in passing and they approached me separately to confide in me. Their abortions weren't particularly recent, but they were still hurting. Some women hurt, some don't, and neither response is wrong. (And for the love of Mike, some fillings hurt, but that's no reason to outlaw them, so can it, antis.) My friends were and are glad they had a choice, they don't regret their decisions, but they were living quietly with their grief. I jumped into counselor mode in the middle of the coffee shop and I listened, offered resources, and suggested healing and coping techniques. And we hugged and I gave them instructions to call or email me whenever they needed an ear.

After I counsel women at work, I give hugs or a pat on the back or a few pamphlets or a souvenir flowchart we developed together that details a plan for healing. And I write my phone number at the clinic on the handouts with my name next to it, and I give the clients the same instructions to call me whenever they need to. Only a handful of women have taken me up on it, and I love hearing from them because even if they're sad, they usually are calling to also say thank you or tell me about the good things going on in their lives, or because they're open to talking. The rest, I think about and send a wish into the universe for their well-being. I don't forget them. And the thing that struck me the most when my friends came to me was the hope that they had a counselor who listened to them and walked with them through their abortion experiences. And I worried that they didn't.

A couple of weeks ago on PostSecret there was a postcard that said something to to the effect of, "To the nurse who held my hand last year as I lost my baby and told me eventually I would be OK: I am. Thank you." I wish I had saved the image, but it came and went like the postcards do every week. I loved that card, though. (And maybe it was about a sick infant or a miscarriage, but the beauty of the site is that it's open to interpretation.) It was like getting to hear the happy ending of every client I've ever wondered about. And I like being a part of the beginning, middle, and end for my friends.


Update - Thanks to a couple of lovely readers who let us know where to find that PostSecret submission! Here it is:

Sisterhood of the traveling mesh underpants*

"Tell your abortion story!" we implore you. "Erase the stigma!" "I'm here to listen." In nearly every counseling session with a client, I slip in the statistic that one in three American women will have a least one abortion in her lifetime. I sometimes add that it's a huge sisterhood, but one that no one talks about.

Most women don't end up walking around proudly with an I had an abortion T-shirt, but as clinic staff, I have been fortunate enough to encounter more than a couple of women who are OK with telling their truths.

I've seen clients months post-abortion at pro-choice activist events. I don't say anything to them other than "Hi" if they catch my eye, because anything more would be a HIPAA violation. But later on, I send them a psychic thank you. While working in the recovery room at the clinic, I've witnessed patients exchanging phone numbers and making plans to get together. I've watched plenty of acquaintances spy each other in the waiting room and then hide behind magazines in a panic, but I've also seen acquaintances connect and old friends reconnect after seeing a familiar face in a frightening place. After learning where I work, people in my life confide about their abortion experiences or their friends' tales, maybe intuiting that I'm a walking safe space, maybe desperate to share something that shouldn't be a secret. You, readers, have trusted us and mentioned your own abortions in our comments section.

Women talk, and women have rich stories to tell. Our job, as pro-choice warriors, is to listen, listen, listen, and believe me, we are all ears. I have seen it.

*At my clinic, we give out little disposable mesh underpants to clients to use if there's a bleeding on the underwear situation.

Guest post: My Truth with Abortion

Hi everyone. We'd like you to meet deliverance, who's graciously agreed to be our guest here for several upcoming Thursdays. As deliverance says, The name means relief from something, and sometimes liberation. Please extend your warmest welcome to our friend and colleague!

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potentially problematic

Hello, dear readers and writers. This is my first post in this special sliver of cyberspace, as I will be guest-blogging for the illuminating Daughter of Wands in August and September.

I started working in the honorable field of abortion care exactly one year and a day ago. Never had I expected to become so bonded with abortion. For quite a long time abortion was, for me, a distant political issue. I was committed as an activist to do my part in protecting abortion rights, but I never had any emotional investment.

When I reflect on how I thought about abortion before my days as an insider, I understand. Mainstream messages don't convey the heart that is in abortion care. That would be radical. Instead, we flaunt, we debate, we yell, and we condemn. There is no story-telling.

It is not new for women to have their stories and lives ignored. In my work, I have been able to honor the lives of many women. I have also come to this realization: Abortion care is soulful; it deepens the heart and opens the mind.

On a daily basis I get to discuss the "big questions" -- questions about life, death, rebirth, loss, and love. Recently, I have been thinking quite a bit about the topic of parenthood and how people make the decision to become parents.

I have been seeing advertisements by the Ad Council to encourage more foster parenting. Each commercial ends with the statement, "Kids in foster care don't need perfection, they need you." So basically, as long as your kid doesn't carry your genes, there's no need to do anything above mediocre. (You can find these ads on the right side of this webpage under "Campaign Materials"):

Choosing to raise a child is a huge responsibility, but these ads make parenting seem like it's something anyone can do, and it's not all that important to strive for anything above the ordinary. Perhaps we should consider the impact we have on our communities when we don't work to raise our children in the best way we can. Also, what kind of impact does it have on a child who hears, essentially, that they don't need anything special from a parent?

In my work at the clinic, I sometimes talk with women who feel obligated to carry out a pregnancy because they aren't in desperate situations. They often feel a bit ambivalent, and figure that if they try hard enough, they could accomplish being a parent.

Shouldn't parenthood be a conscious decision, one which involves a certain amount of desire and motivation? Parenting involves raising a person -- teaching someone about the world, helping them acquire life skills, and instilling values and morals. It shouldn't have the same weight as choosing which dinner entree you want from a menu.

I am not saying I support the ever-popular argument that "It is good to have abortion because there are certain people who just shouldn't have children." But I am noticing, partly through my work at the clinic, that sometimes parenting isn't seen as a profound act.

Recently I came across a poem which made me think of one way to look at parenting. It is from a book called Earth Prayers.

"I'm going to plant a heart in the earth
water it with love from a vein
I'm going to praise it with the push of muscle
and care for it in the sound of all dimensions.
I'm going to leave a heart in the earth
so it may grow and flower
a heart that throbs with longing
that adores everything green
that will be strength and nourishment for birds
that will be the sap of plants and mountains."
-Rosario Murillo

My work with abortion doesn't always have to do with the absence of children. It does, however, always have to do with love.