July 20, 2003/2006/2011

Today, it’s been eight years since the second-part of my abortion. In 2003, July 20^th was a Sunday. I inserted the pills, read for an hour, and then became so uncomfortable I had to get up. I spent the next hours in pain, miscarrying. 

Yes, I do remember things like this. It was a poignant moment in my life. My unplanned pregnancy created an avalanche of thoughts. A chain reaction. I was not ready to be a parent, I had no desire to be a 23-year-old parent. But I still did want to be a parent one day. Just. Not. Now. I re-examined my life. What was I doing? What do I want? What am I not willing to compromise? What did women do in the past when they found themselves in this sticky situation?
 

Any such personal growth creates turmoil, and so the months immediately after my abortion were internally tumultuous. This is why I dislike when my fellow pro-choicers say that abortion is only a relief or an attempt to downplay any negative emotion regarding abortion. It was a relief to not be pregnant. And yet I was sad, because I realized I DID want to be a parent, one day, just not then. I wanted more, than anything else, to have never have gotten pregnant in the first place. 

Life is rarely as simple and clear cut as we’d like it to be. Or pretend it is.

And since I’m remembering….

It’s been five years since B had his first psychosis that I witnessed/experienced/went through the looking glass with him. I was four months pregnant with C. I cannot believe it’s been five years. So many flashes of memory bubbling up to the surface, out of the blue. Even now, I find myself remembering things I had forgotten completely. And again, I’m struck by how my memory attempts to make Wendover, Utah/Nevada a windy place in the dead of summer. It wasn’t windy. I know it wasn’t windy. It was stifling hot. Maybe it was a little windy right before it rained one night. See? The place isn't as serious looking as you'd expect. It's tacky. Uber-tacky. Yet every time I start envisioning the place, the wind is blowing. Even when I envision us in the hotel (on the Utah side, not the Nevada side), the wind is blowing.

In 2006, I left some jelly bellies on the salt flats, which had no water on it.

Telling enough.

Tonight, I will eat cake to celebrate all that I’ve survived, and be grateful for everyone who’s helped me over the years, even if it was just a small smile. It probably meant more to me than you’ll ever know.