choices

i just realized i never finished or posted last week's whisky wednesday post.

it was in the middle of all the news about alabama (among several other states) and their push to cut back (eliminate) abortions.

i processed A LOT while working through the piece i was writing. i was really, really struggling trying to find what to say and how to say it. the piece kept morphing and shifting on me and it never did get finished.

during the process through i realized a few big things, like i finaly noticed the difference language can make. i was raised in a "pro-life" or "not pro-life" town and never heard the word "pro-choice" until well after both my kids were born and i was permanently sterilized via double tubal ligation. full truth: when i finally heard the word "pro-choice" i was SO CONFUSED. THERE'S A THIRD OPTION? no. there's just a horrible, guilt and shame soaked way of saying things or an empowering, educated way of saying things.

i finally noticed the full impact of things like "you have to wait three months before you REALLY know if you're pregnant, you might miscarry." that false hope (and admittedly incredibly twisted hope) of miscarriage pushes any teen girl (or any woman) outside the window of legal abortion.

i finally realized the FULL impact of extremely, EXTREMELY limited sex education. i was in the abstinence only education classes ALL THE WAY through school, yes, even when i was 8 months pregnant.

i processed a LOT of the trauma that went with different aspects of being pregnant at 17, in a small, extremely religious town. like, for instance, how it was ok that i was pregnant to some of the ladies at church because i "...must have been raped, you're not promiscious like that." THAT WAS THE ONLY OPTION. rape or whore. RAPE. OR. WHORE.

not that it matters, but i had sex the very first time in october of 1997. my son was born in july of 1998. that math on that works out to roughly EXACTLY nine months.

i wasn't raped. i wasn't a whore. i was a 17 year old kid denied access to basic birth control, sex education, even the mere existence of abortion.

and that's what really got to me.

all over social media were stories of women struggling with the choice of abortion and whatever path their life took from there.

I NEVER EVEN HAD THE OPTION. abortion wasn't even a word i knew, let alone WHAT it was, where to get one, how to get one (does insurance cover that?).

my life changed FOREVER.

my trajectory altered in one single decision.

because i didn't even know what i didn't know.

to this day, i've never taken birth control. couldn't tell you how it works. by some miracle i made it 5 years after my son was born until i was married and planned my second child. by the time that one was done cooking i knew my marriage was shit and i really, really, REALLY didn't want three babies with three daddy's. two was embarrassing and shameful enough, there was NO WAY i was going to risk a trailer park hat trick. so i asked my doctor to make sure i couldn't have any more babies and he did.

i learned LATER, much after the fact, that because i was under 25, my doctor had to petition the state medical board for me. i don't know how i was lucky enough to be granted permission. maybe it was the domestic violence during my pregnancy. maybe it was my doctor seeing my then husband yelling at me in the delivery room for taking too long to give birth. i don't know how, but i do know that my doctor did a damn good job and 16+ years later the baby factory has remained permanently closed. if i could finalize the decommissioning with a total removal, you bet your ass i would in two shakes of a lambs tail. something about causing early onset menopause at 22 made them not want to do that.

now? BRING ON THE MENOPAUSE. better than dealing with tampons every month.

 
i'm a slightly (just a touch) opinionated person. i study topics. i read both sides. i make informed, careful decisions based on counsel with people in the know, my own research, though and consideration.

and for the biggest decision in my life, the decision that changed EVERYTHING, ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING, i was denied that. i was denied the information. i was denied the research. i was denied the opportunity to make a decision.

how many girls now face the same thing?

if you have two choices and you remove one choice you have NO choice left.

how many trajectories are going to change? how many girls are now just...having a baby?

i did get to make a decision about adoption. i wrote in a journal every day during the entire pregnancy. i had letters from families that i read and re-read. i carefully weighed all the options, all the variables. i talked to the families, i discussed parenting and why they wanted to adopt and what it would like like for them with EACH. DIFFERENT. FAMILY. i weighed and measured my decision. i still, to this day, have the letters and the journals and the worksheets.

the decision i WAS allowed to make was a VERY, VERY conscientious, thought out, painfully, painfully decided one.

how different would or could things have been if i had been allowed the same for ALL decisions?

abortion isn't always about rape or incest or failed birth control.

sometimes it's about 17 year old kids that didn't know. they make ONE choice. ONE. and things change forever.

there's no point speculating about what i *would* have done. that's done and gone. that's 21 years ago. there's no point in wondering what life would have been like, how different, the path not taken. there's no shame of "but then your son's wouldn't have been born" because they WERE born.

being mad NOW that i wasn't given a choice THEN doesn't change then.

it sure as fuck makes me want to fight for other women though NOW. it makes me want to grab and shake every person spouting abstinence only teaching. it makes me want to scream in the face of people saying "providing birth control just makes teens have sex." it makes me want take every person saying "what about adoption" and have them read through my journals and the process of making that decision.

mostly, at the end of the day, it makes me want to say WOMEN ARE PEOPLE TOO. we deserve to know about our bodies. we deserve to make fully informed decisions, FOR OURSELVES. we shouldn't have to slit our wrists and bleed out our stories of struggle and decisions and trajectory changes to make people realize...ANY. FUCKING. THING. we deserve education. we deserve the right to make choices for our bodies. =

for all the men saying they are one way or the other about abortion: how many of those statements HAD TO, ABSOLUTELY HAD TO be prefaced with a personal experience? a gut punch of pain and misery to be dissected and weighed in on by everyone, whether they agree or not?

so. there's my whisky wednesday on a monday.

GIVE WOMEN EDUCATION. GIVE WOMEN A CHOICE.

MY BODY. MY FUCKING CHOICE.

when i WAS finally given a choice about birth control?

best decision i ever made.

birth control

so. after watching the office last week and with my small spawn having a birthday the other day, i got to thinking about different funny/horrifying birth stories. if you have kids, i'm sure some of your own glorious memories will be stirred. if you don't have kids but want them some day, you may want to wait a few years before reading this post. if you don't have kids and don't want them any time soon, this should serve as pretty much the best birth control available. you're welcome. and because over-sharing is what i do...these are for you:

spawn one: so, i was 17 when my first spawn decided to make an appearance. i had no idea what child birth was supposed to be like. i had no idea what labor would entail. and i will tell you straight up: IT SUCKED. seriously. and not just in an...oh...this hurts kind of way. i mean it SUCKED as in embarrassing/terrifying/scarred for life. well, obviously not for life since i popped out another spawn...but scarring still the same.

so they had to induce my first spawn. turned out the kid had decided to it wasn't so bad having his own private swimming pool and extended his cooking time by two weeks. during july. the hottest part of the year. nice. thanks. still hold that against him. so, as much as they told me. being induced involves shoving seaweed where shouldn't be and waiting for it to so something (which it never did). i checked into the hospital for said seaweed spa treatment at 7 pm, not being allowed to eat dinner before going. so i waited all night...nothing happened. it was fab. nothing like sitting in a hospital bed all night waiting for nothing. so morning comes and i'm STARVING. i'm tired. i'm grumpy. i'm prego. you cant starve a prego for 18 hours. its just mean. i BEG to be allowed breakfast. turns out if you ever need to go into labor just eat some hospital eggs and sausage and a powdered donut. MAGIC. well. in a way. turns out the breakfast didn't like me much and requested to return from whence it came. as i stood up to go return the pity breakfast i felt a kick...or i thought it was a kick...either way it dropped me to my knees. in a puddle. and i crawled from there to the bathroom. that's how my mom found me when she came back to the room. like a deranged slug dragging a slime trail to the bathroom where i was in the process of being sick AND having a contraction AND freaking out about my water breaking all at the same time. great start. it went downhill from there...

same spawn: three hours later: STILL trying to get the dang kid out. since it's taking a while, they (the TEAM of people in the room) decided to try suction. if you're unfamiliar with this...well, it is what it is. SUCKING the kid out. with a vacuum. sounds fun, huh? well, like i said, i was 17. NONE of this made sense to me. i didn't have my contacts in or my glasses on, so i had NO CLUE what the fuck was going on. all i knew was one of the nurses has a hoover in my hoo-ha. i had read up a bit on labor before hand and unfortunately had even made it through the chapters on suction...and the risks: like sucking the brain through the skull. lovely thought (i'm sure that hasn't happened within the last 1000 years...but they put it in the damn book). so there i am...hoovered up...and all of a sudden: SLLLLLUUUURRRRRPPPP _POP_ (yes, it was that disgusting). OH.MY.FUCKING.GOD. what the fuck just happened? (or at the time, since i was young and doe eyed them...gee wally, did something go wrong?) i sat up and SCREAMED at the nurse: "DID YOU JUST RIP THE HEAD OFF MY BABY?!?!?!" turns out not so much...but they tried it again two more times with the same results. each time i freaked the fuck out. i was SURE it was going to suck his brain out or make him a cone head or something. turned out the spawn had a bunch of hair and they couldn't get a good seal. isn't childbirth glamorous? well. another hour, 2 doctors, 4 nurses, 2 labor coaches, 13 stitches and...well...a fishing expedition later i had my very own 9 pound 11 ounce spawn, brain intact, no banana head. no wonder he was stuck. gave birth to a dang toddler.

spawn #2: no horrible stories with this one...he was stubborn enough to make them go in after him and fish him out. and i DID NOT look over the curtain. so you're spared a traumatic delivery story there. all i know is they gave me a shot, pushed on my stomach once and there was a clean, screaming, healthy baby wrapped in a towel in the bassinet. TOTALLY the way to go. 96 hours of pain, one shot, 8 staples, and DONE. BUT. you can't be completely spared, this is a horror story of a different kind. rewind to before the fishing expedition: i was sitting in the delivery room waiting in a 48 hours showdown with spawn number 2. during this time, several people stopped by to visit- my grandmother being one of them. turns out she wanted to get me something for the new baby and asked if i had any nursing bras. okay. that right there should be enough. my grandmother asking about my bras. oy. SHOULD be enough. but it wasn't. oh hell no. that was just the beginning. the tip of the iceberg that sank the titanic. she had decided that i needed a GOOD nursing bra and she was going to get one for me. oy. as it goes with bra shopping, she needed to know what size i was. well, here's the thing about pregnancy: it makes your boobs grow. and if you plan on nursing, add another cup size or two for when your milk comes in. in short: i wasn't sure what size i would need. i had a rough guess of what i was up to, but wasn't 100% sure. so i guessed. umm....i'll take a c cup for $200 alex.. oh the horror...dear god the horror. my grandmother looked at me. then looked at herself. then looked back at me. it took a moment for this to sink in. and i was wondering what the hell...and the bomb dropped: "honey...you have to be bigger than that. i'm a d cup and you're much bigger than me."

there are things i've learned over the years that i could have gone the rest of my life never knowing. little facts and tidbits that really do not need to be taking up valuable real estate. finding out/realizing that my darling grandmother was in fact a FULL d cup is one of them. my whole life shifted in that moment. my grandmother went from being this shapeless person who looked, in my mind, like a raggedy ann doll under all her sweaters and dresses to suddenly being a PERSON. WITH PARTS. LARGE PARTS. and she was sizing up mine. in comparison to hers. I HAD A BOOB-OFF WITH MY GRANDMOTHER. oh god. at least i won i guess. after that, the c section was nothing. i think i was still so in shock they didn't even have to drug me (that's a lie. they drugged me. A LOT.)

and finally: me: yes, that's right. wonderful stories about my own infancy have been passed on over the years. all i can say is: my poor mother. turns out *shock* i wasnt the easiest of babies. i mean the basics were easy: i was fat. in baby speak that generally means good natured and healthy. from what i've heard i wasn't too demanding or colicy or horrible. but i did get sick. not really sick, but i had a rash. and it led to a great story. which is good enough for me. so. like most babies, i was born. and soon after birth i was hungry (i know...go figure with me, right?). my mother being a good and wholesome mother decided to nurse me. best start to life. turns out i didn't do so well with it. i guess at a few days old i developed thrush which is basically a yeast infection in the mouth. important note: this can be a common infection in infants who are bottle fed. remember that. so. my mother goes to the pharmacy to see if there's anything she can do to help this infection go away. she chats with the pharmacist a bit, explains what's wrong with me (well, at that particular time anyway...would be a whole saga now), and asks for any advice. the pharmacist, more than willing to help, did what he could. he told her: "the best way to help clear up thrush is to boil the nipples."

***S.I.L.E.N.C.E.***

as the story goes, it took a few moments for the pharmacist to notice the COMPLETE SILENCE in response to his suggestion. one can only guess the look of sheer horror he saw on my mother's face when he finally looked up. typical infection in BOTTLE FEEDING. typical solution for bottle feeding. NOT a typical infection in breast feeding. HORRIFYING solution for breast feeding. my mom, 27 YEARS LATER still had a horrified look on her face when she told me the story. she said she was standing there in those few moments of silence trying desperately to figure out what and why and how before the pharmacist caught on. "you are bottle feeding, right?" what's that saying about assuming? something about making a complete and total ass out of you? she said she barely whispered no and then the pharmacist fully realized what he'd just suggested. can you imagine? boil the nipples. now i know some people are into some pretty extreme things now days...piercings and what not. but this is one particular trend i have yet to hear about. ow. damn.

so. there you have it. a bit of trauma, just for you,. if you weren't already, my darling few readers, you should be completely good to go now on birth control for...well...forever. you're welcome.