This Is What I Mean By Choice

So, true to my blog’s name, I am once again late. Granted, not nearly as late as usual, but late all the same. Let’s make up for lost time now, shall we?

So our douchey local antis decided to be their interpretation of clever yesterday and attempted to highjack Blog for Choice Day and rename it (yes, cleverly) “Ask Them What They Mean By Choice Day”. Wtfsrsly? The answer, cats and kittens, is the same as it’s always been: all legitimate choices regarding reproduction, parenting, and sex. Was that a scandalously reasonable answer? Just a little too reasonable for you guys? It must be as not a single one seems to have even remotely acknowledged that there we support the protection of all choices. You try to pass us off as supporting only abortion. There are a plethora of choices in one’s reproductive rights, and each and every one of them deserves protection and each and every one of the women (and sometimes men) deserves respect for the choices they make. Instead of dictating what choice means to me exactly, I’m going to tell you about some of the people I know and tell you of the choices they made. Maybe then (though doubtfully) you’ll finally grasp just how broad the spectrum of “choice” reaches.

A dear friend of mine (I’ll just call her K) is a paraplegic. She was born 2 ½ months early and has cerebral palsy as a result. K is an unapologetically fierce little thing, and I admire her to the ends of the earth for it. When K was 17 she learned she was pregnant. This wasn’t going to be a problem for K. She’s a firecracker. K was absolutely happy. Until her doctor started pushing for an abortion. Yes, K’s condition DID present some complications. But that wasn’t the doctor’s primary concern. He didn’t approve of her pregnancy because she was young and unmarried. Maybe it wasn’t an ideal situation… but it was none of his business. K promptly found another, better, doctor to entrust her reproductive health to and happily had her son. And then a daughter. And another. She’s an amazing, feisty parent. I fully supported her decision to have her children and her decision to tell that bullying, judgemental antichoice “doctor” where to shove it as she left his office that one last time.

My sister (“B”) has scoliosis. Not the mild kind that makes your shoulders a little crooked. When she was 14, she had a surgery that involved drilling steel rods into her spine to hold her back straight. As she got older, she should have gotten taller. The rods have been compressing her spine for 10 years now. B married at 17 and proceeded to pop out child upon child. By the time she reached her fourth pregnancy, her spine was in horrific shape. She admitted to me later that she had seriously considered terminating that pregnancy. Not only because she is disabled, but because she and her husband already had three children they were barely able to care for. She never told her husband about her thoughts. Interestingly, he never told her he’d had the same thoughts too. He was so afraid of making her feel pressured. B came to the decision on her own that she did want to have this child, despite being destitute and disabled. Now, in addition to the “awful little beasts” (as I affectionately call them) she already had, she now has The One I Call Nars (nickname of course) who can’t seem to say anything without sounding like he’s growling. B’s choice she made for her family. She’d have had my support either way because I knew she’d have decided out of love.

In my previous blog post, I told the story of my mom. I supported her decision to keep trying to have children. However, the rest of that story requires a blog all to itself. Btw does everyone I know get pregnant at 17?

One of my dearest friends (W) found herself pregnant at 18 (okay then, maybe not). After careful consideration and discussion with her mother, she decided that it would not be responsible of her to have a child then. W had an abortion. She says it was one of the hardest decisions she ever made. She also said she would never regret it. It was the right decision for her. W now has a son, a husband, and two stepsons. Her life is full and complete. Though I didn’t know her at the time, upon hearing her story, I knew I supported her because I knew the woman who came out of that decision.

My favourite cousin! A (as I’ll call her here) married at 19, when she was 7 months pregnant. She married hastily, she says in retrospect. When her daughter was about 6 months old, her husband went to prison. For four years she remained the devoted wife and mother, writing to her husband at least every week, and keeping the courts informed of his supportive family in hopes of his release. But after four years, things change. She reevaluated their relationship. She realized that their marriage was not a healthy one. She had an affair. Despite all her consistent use of contraception, A became pregnant by a man other than her incarcerated husband. She hid her pregnancy as long as she could (5 months is pretty good for a woman all of 4”9). A had obviously decided to keep her baby. When she finally had to confront everyone, she was bullied very much by her in-laws to seek an abortion. And she stood her ground. Now, that child is three years old. Her husband is out of prison, and they are now mutually seeking a divorce and remaining excellent friends. He accepts and loves this second child. She is, after all, the baby sister of his own daughter. A could have had an abortion and avoided all of the hostility (and even threats of violence) she encountered. She didn’t want to. It was her choice. She is very happy with the choice she made. And I am happy for her.

A childhood friend of mine impregnated his high school sweetheart. C opted to marry his sweetie, and they had a lovely son. They now have 8 sons. C and Wife run a foster home taking in particularly hard to manage boys. They are amazing parents to each and every one of them.

L, H, and Cl all lost custody of their children to the state for varying reasons. Cl simply decided she wouldn’t be a good parent at that time and gave her daughter for adoption. L and H had their children removed. After battling, both came to the conclusions that their children would have better lives with different families than theirs. They made the heart-wrenching decision to release their children into new homes.

T is a very dear schoolmate of mine. She is a lesbian who has chosen to be childless. Her girlfriend has a stepdaughter from a previous girlfriend. They all share in family activities, T being involved all the way. This step (-step?) daughter fills T’s life. Ln is another schoolmate. She is a successful cosmetologist and has a wonderful fiancé. She, too, has chosen to be childless. Both T and Ln love children, but simply prefer to not have any of their own.

When I was 20, I was in the midst of my first divorce. A child was dropped off with me. I was asked to watch her for “a few hours”. Her mother never returned. This child was the niece of my best friend, who was not in a position to care for her at the time. I didn’t know this little girl. She didn’t know me. We were both scared and didn’t know what to expect. So we just did what we could. We ate, watched movies, played games, washed dishes, chased my grandmother’s goats (we lived in a rural area, obviously). With the help of my best friend, we managed to get her enrolled in school. I got government assistance to help care for her (I was only a waitress at the time). Was I the best parent ever? Hell no. I entered counseling not only to deal with my divorce, but to learn what the hell I’m supposed to do with an 8 year old girl I’m suddenly caring for. I made so many mistakes. My relationship with my friend got very shaky due to conflicts over the girl. When I started dating again, my boyfriend’s parents pressured him to exit our relationship because they didn’t like the idea of him caring for someone else’s child (real winners huh?). He refused (we later split over different reasons). And I persisted. Eventually I did have to relinquish care for my girl. And after several years she made her way back to us all. She lives with her aunt now, still my best friend of many, many years. She still calls me Mommy.

And though I never have met him, and doubt I’ll ever have the chance, the story of Thomas Beaty I find amazing and inspiring. Thomas chose to go to amazing lengths and defy criticism and adversity to bring a child to his family. This man utilized the body that betrayed him at birth to fulfill the dreams of himself and his wife by carrying and birthing their baby. There were no boundaries that were going to keep this man and his wife from having the child they deserved.

Every one of those stories I just typed up portrays a choice that a woman (and in the cases of Thomas and C, a father) has had to make. Some chose to keep their children. Some chose not to have a child. Some chose to care for someone else’s children. Some chose to let their children go to other, better homes. Some chose keep trying to have children though they lost pregnancy after pregnancy. Some chose their right to go against the medical odds and continue their pregnancies. Some chose to swallow hard and fight the judgement cast on them for keeping their child. Some chose to dismiss the overwhelming criticism and chose to defy societies “rules” dictating who can and cannot have children.

Each case is unique. There may be others that are similar, that come close. But no two situations are identical. These women and men knew their lives better than anyone else. They decided in each case what was best for them and their families. They made these decisions as women, wives, and mothers, men, husbands, and fathers. They made these decisions carefully and delicately. Intelligently. They exercised their choices. I admire each of them for it. Even myself, through all of my mistakes and screw-ups as an unofficial foster mother. We all chose. We all supported each other’s decisions. I’m so proud of all of us.