politics hitting close to home

when we were dealing with the termination of the pregnancy, i was (understandably) wrapped up in what was going on personally instead of thinking of outside factors. i still have a hard time dealing with the grief occasionally, and i find that i still read stories about others that have gone thru the same thing to help me move past this and look forward to the next pregnancy. i read a pretty powerful article today that reminded me of the horrible politics of what women like me have to go thru every day. the writer also terminated due to a poor prenatal diagnosis, but brought to light how scary it would be to be in our situation if the closed-minded politicians had their way and banned abortion - even for medical reasons.

"Now, it's like the Stone Age, it's like a Muslim country here," says the doctor who performed my procedure. "This is the most backward law, it is not for a civilized country. If this was Iran, Iraq, I wouldn't be surprised. But to pass this law in the United States, what is this government doing?"

there were a few quotes from the article that reflects exactly how i've felt over these past few months:

I don't remember much from those three days. Walking around with a belly full of broken dreams, it felt like what I would imagine drowning feels like -- flailing and suffocating and desperate. Semiconscious. Surrounded by our family, I found myself tortured by our decision, asking over and over, are we doing the right thing? That was the hardest part. Even though I finally understood that pregnancy wasn't a Gerber commercial, that bringing forth life was intimately wrapped up in death -- what with miscarriage and stillbirth -- this was actually a choice. Everyone said, of course it's the right thing to do -- even my Catholic father and my Republican father-in-law, neither of whom was ever "pro-choice." Because suddenly, for them, it wasn't about religious doctrine or political platforms. It was personal -- their son, their daughter, their grandchild. It was flesh and blood, as opposed to abstract ideology, and that changed everything.

For months, I hid from the world, avoiding social outings and weddings. I just couldn't bear well-meaning friends saying, "I'm so sorry." So I quarantined myself, and would try to go about my day -- but then, bam, heartbreak would come screaming out of the shadows, blindsiding me and leaving me crumpled on the floor of our house. It wasn't that I was questioning our decision. I knew we did it out of love, out of all the feeling in the world. But I still hated it. Hated it.

read the article