A few weeks ago, it had been a really tough week to be on social media. Like, really, really tough.
Last week, NY passed a bill allowing abortion after 24 weeks when 1) the mother's health is at risk or 2) the baby is not viable. People have very, very strong feelings about this - and they have zero regard to what they post on social media. A lot of what I read was very hurtful, even though I knew it wasn't all true.
It's a weird place to be - the person who terminated a pregnancy. I know with every ounce of my being that Daniel and I made the best decision for us and for our baby. And as rock solid as we feel about it, sometimes I feel like crumbling when people say hateful things about what we did.
And then someone posted this piece, and I've never felt more understood. And I also feel brave, which seems impossible when being so judged and shamed.
The words I write here are not for the people on the very many sides of the late-term abortion debate - the ones who mistake themselves as the heroes and the champions.
The words I write here are for those who are trapped in the middle. The ones whose stories are being used to make a point.
These words are for the ones who are being shouted at and about, but without ever really being acknowledged.
The words I write here are for the mothers who have faced the most impossible of decisions – how long do I carry my child? How long do I carry life and death and suffering in my womb?
They are the only heroes here.
To those mothers, I want to say this – You are so damn brave.
I have sat on the sidelines this week, my heart screaming out for all of you. Regardless of what you chose or when you chose it, I choose to support you.
I do not require justifications or reasons for your choice, because I trust you. I trust your maternal instincts.
Most of all, I trust the love you have for your baby.
I know that love. It’s a love that can withstand anything. It is a love that goes beyond this world and often, beyond our comprehension.
That love you have for your baby did not die and it will not die. I know you loved them and I know you always will.
Amidst the noise and the rhetoric – I want you to know that I see you.
Even though you’re probably sitting back and waiting for the anger and the shouting and the accusations to pass by – I see you there. And, I am sorry.
For those who chose to carry to term and for those who have yet to make that decision – I’m sorry that people underestimate the actual amount of bravery it takes to walk around with shattered dreams inside of you.
I’m sorry that people don’t know that you have made the impossible decision to keep going even when you know the end dances so near.
For those who chose to release your child from pain and suffering and for those who have yet to make that decision – I’m sorry that people underestimate the actual amount of bravery it takes to say goodbye before you’re ever ready.
I’m sorry that people don’t know that you’ve made the impossible decision to keep going even when you made the choice to let go.
You are all just so damn brave.
You must know that. I need you to know that. Please.
Because when all the shouting quiets down and the signs of protest and celebration are lowered, you will still be there.
You will have to keep going in a world that will never truly understand what you have been through. A world that will never be able to understand unless they have been in your situation.
A world so busy trying to make a point it forgets to acknowledge that you are so damn brave.
So after a hard week wanting to shout from the rooftops, but feeling shamed into being quiet - my heart really needed someone else to eloquently "get it". We are not murderers, we are grieving moms and dads who have found out that our babies that we so desperately wanted, just won't be able to live. In our darkest of days, we made decisions out of the purest form of love. And we deeply respect that not everyone would have made the same decision we did, but what's important is that we all deserve the right to choose what's best for our families.
And through the craziness of three year old twin girls, there isn't a single day that we don't think about our sweet Baby Sink. As hard as some days can be to have three year olds, we don't take a day of it for granted.
And to my girls who will one day grow up and maybe read this little blog of mine - stand up for what you believe in. Respect other people. Appreciate their opinions and perspectives. Try to take a walk in their shoes, and listen to what they have to say. Choose being kind over being right.
