Abortion: What It Takes To Make It To Earth
Nov 5th, 2007 | 18 responses
I had a night dream long ago about how hard it was to get to earth. For those of us who get pregnant when just passing through a room where a man is reading a newspaper and no more, it has sometimes seemed as though women becoming pregnant, carrying to term, and laboring to bring a living baby into this world is easy, common, like falling out of a ground floor window.
But, it isn’t. It is hard to get to earth, more than a one in a million odds, I think with certainty. Those souls who make it to earth have made a long trek with many perils along the way.
In my dream, I saw that getting to earth was like running an obstacle course of timing: making love timing, who what where when timing, physical timing, time of life timing, money timing, right lover timing, right this that and the other timing.
If little souls sit on clouds gambling on a body being made for each one, they’d lose their bets more often than win.
That’s why I think being born, no matter how a person came to be conceived, is like winning the lottery. Most of us were not planned. Some of us were not ‘wanted.’ Some of us arrived through a loveless act or a perfunctory one. Some of us came by accident. Some of us are called ‘the ooopsie baby.’ Some of us came from unsanctioned moments and are called ‘love child.’ Some of us were sick in utero, even sick unto death, but somehow recovered. And some of us, well…
Listen…
When doctors found that Gabriel was weaker than his brother, with an enlarged heart,and believed he was going to die in the womb, his mother Rebecca Jones had to make a heartbreaking decision.
Doctors told her his death could cause his twin brother to die too before they were born, and that it would be better to end Gabriel’s suffering sooner rather than later.
Mrs Jones decided to let doctors operate to terminate Gabriel’s life.
Firstly they tried to sever his umbilical cord to cut off his blood supply, but the cord was too strong.
They then cut Mrs Jones’s placenta in half so that when Gabriel died, it would not affect his twin brother.
But after the operation which was meant to end his life, tiny Gabriel had other ideas.
Although he weighed less than a pound, he put up such a fight for survival that doctors called him Rocky.
Astonishingly, he managed to carry on living in his mother’s womb for another five weeks – until the babies were delivered by caesarean section.
The children are home now. The doctor’s thinking was that one child seemed half the size of the other, not getting enough nutrients. The doctors said his heart was 3x normal size and it was likely the tiny baby in distress would die from a heart attack or stroke in utero.
Mrs Jones said: “They told us that if he died, it could be life threatening for his brother.
“We had to decide whether to end his life and let his brother live, or risk them both.”
At Birmingham Women’s Hospital, when Mrs Jones was 25 weeks pregnant, doctors tried to sever Gabriel’s umbilical cord to cut off his blood supply and allow him to die.
But the cord was too thick, and they could not cut through it.
As a last resort they divided Mrs Jones’s placenta so that when Gabriel died, it would allow Ieuan to survive. Mrs Jones said: “I put my hands on my stomach thinking of Gabriel. It was devastating. I had said my goodbyes.”
But the next morning Mrs Jones felt Gabriel kicking. A scan showed his heart was still beating. She said: “No one could quite believe it.”
Gabriel hung on, and his enlarged heart started to reduce in size. He also gained weight.
Mrs Jones said: “They thought it may be because the placenta had been divided. Inadvertently, it had evened out the distribution of nutrition between them, allowing Gabriel to survive.’
Like I said, it’s really something to make it to earth. If you’re reading this, you’re one of the very few lucky ones. I know with an earth burgeoning with over 6 billion people that sounds like an overstatement. It isn’t. Given all other matters, that you and I are here, is amazing.
I hope I can say this right without it being misunderstood; I hope I can adequately express the way this all sits in my heart, in my bones: I’m not pro-abortion. I’m not anti-abortion except for myself, my daughters and grandchildren: we consider a pregnancy, no matter how unexpected, no matter how it comes about, a gift of a soul trying to come to earth.
In our family, we’ve had our share of ‘sudden pregnancies at untoward times,’ and the dear humans that came from those conceptions will all be sitting with us at the Thanksgiving table this year, as every year of their lives before. At the time of those pregnancies, there was never enough: not enough money, not enough resources, work, health, just not enough. But, in a whole other way, there was more than enough of an intangible that I don’t know the name of. And rigging that ‘unknown thing’ with a tattered sail, forward we sailed onto the open sea.
I deeply respect other women and their circumstances and choices greatly. No matter what they are, a woman most often has her reasons. But, I loathe that some find it fit to stand outside Planned Parenthood clinics screeching at women who already are struggling. I loathe the idea of using abortion as chronic birth control. I intensely dislike the idea of withdrawing resources and support from young mothers forcing them into surrendering their own children for adoption.
I’ve done much counseling of men and women and grandparents, many many years after an abortion or a forced adoption took place: they are all, as they wish, deserving of telling their story, of being heard without scorn or judgment, of finding their own reconciliations, the mendings they deserve.
And, I wish there were a third category in all the storm that is made by seeding the clouds about Roe vs Wade and anti vs pro everything… with regard to pregnancy. I would like a third category simply called: “Rooting for the brave souls who are trying to make it to earth. Despite all odds.” And a fourth category too: “Rooting for the brave souls who, despite their challenges, are already here.” May they all be blessed, and deeply so.
CODA
Of the two little 7 month old babies in the photo above, the baby on the left is the little one who was supposed to die but didn’t. He weighs 12.5 pounds, his brother 15 pounds. They are both perfectly well.
18 Responses to “Abortion: What It Takes To Make It To Earth”
I have to try hard not to let my frustration show when I read something lifke this.. Please try to forgive me if I don’t quite succeed.
While some are romanticizing about little souls sitting on clouds, others, like me, have had the heartbreaking experience of dealing will little souls who are here on earth, unloved and unwanted, most of whom are doomed to live excretiantingly difficult lives. If they’re lucky enough to find good homes at some stage, they still and always know that they are lacking something basic, something that gives theri lives value that doesn’t have to be earned by being extra good or extra cute, They’re lacking someone who says to them: ” You are mine. We belong to each other” and the words aren’t a deliberated choice; they’re as natural as rain.
There are successful adoptions, I know. But there are always the left overs, and it’s for them My heart breaks.
There are those who are alone and feel abandoned in a way I wish on no human soul. small or big. I’ve coaxed smiles from sad little souls, only to see that longing return to their eyes the minute the game is over- that longing for what they lack and will never fully feel they have.
I’ve had to say ‘no’ to little souls who want to come with me, because I couldn’t take them all. And I’ve been eternally grateful that My own children were never among these sad little souls.
Sometimes the gift of life is a git of suffering.
I don’t see anything romantic in that,, no clouds, no angels – only suffering.
I have to wonder what are those mothers thinking, giving birth when they know they can’t nourish and provide. Is it for the little souls they make their choicies or to make themselves feel good?
I predict you will be counseling more and more owmen who have had abortions. Noe that the cult of the unborn (a nonsensicla term) is taking hold in the country, more ramantic notions are offered women than realistic choices. My heart aches for the souls of the mothers, as well. If they give up the children, they can’t give up being the mothers and spend their lives wondering and rearful.
I’ve had my heart broken too many times by little souls who are here on earth. I have no time for visions of angels on clouds.
I know I sound harsh, and I’m sorry to be so.
When it comes to suffering children, I can’t keep emotions out of it.
dear domajot; what I hoped to portray was how this little guy made it through despite efforts to terminate his life (in order, the doc said, to save his brother), and that we never can completely know what is being set in motion for and with us, and how precious is life.
Perhaps I should have emphasized more that regarding unplanned pregnancy, often panic drives decisions, or else some people are afraid to reach out to rational, warm people who are wise, or they are abandoned or needed resources are withdrawn. In this article, I was thinking of people, who were capable of bringing a child and loving that child, but were unsupported and frightened… and who have since that time, often far away in time, lived anywhere from trying to block it out, to a resonant sorrow, and all in between. Certainly there are those who fall outside that spectrum as well.
I’ll write an article one day soon on neglected children who are here already. The last orphanage I was at was in Romania, and you remind me that it would be good to tell about that, and also the orphanage that was closed here where I live, and another I was at in Chicago, closed also, as they put it ‘for humanitarian reasons.’ More on this later
I don’t think a rational person would argue: there are plenty of souls on earth who are born to those who do not or cannot care for them. Unfortunately a child does not have to be born to a parent consumed by drugs, alcohol or neglect to miss being told “you are mine. you belong to me.’ That can occur without substance abuse. I liked the words you chose. They are beautiful. It must mean a great deal to hear them from one’s loving parent.
I think that you are a champion and heart for children domajot, and I think you must have influence in this area, which is also so needed.
The metaphor of the cloud… This is from a little folk story told in our family. To make matters even worse, I imagine, the cloud is actually inside the moon….and to make it even more of the first, the little souls are inside the moon because the moon is said to be made of milk. But, that’s a story for another time. I hope that part made you smile a little.
dr.e
This story reminded me of a passage from Richard Dawkins’ “Unweaving the rainbow” that sums things up better than I could ever dream to:
thank you Lynx for beautiful words, and ‘unweaving
the rainbow,’ what a striking image. That’s a passage
to pray with, I’d say. The tiny chains of DNA having such magnitude, what ‘a thought that could not yet be thought’ even 50 years ago.
dr.e
Dawkins’s pretty words paint a pretty picture.
Pretty pictures make people feel good.
That’s fine.
ItS also escapism.
People have to deal with the ugly part of life, as well, and fooling them into thinking that it’s all just one big pretty picture is a deception tantamount to a crime. It leads them to do the battle of life unprepred and unarmed, like soldiers without body armor.
Among the floating ghosts of DNA that will never be born, Dawkins fails to mention the potential killers and rapists, as well as the forgotten souls spending their lives in agonies of suffering
Daydreams are wonderful. Escapism is great to rest one’s fevered brow and anguished heart.
Life is hard, however. and choices don’t come easy.
We have to mark the line between fantasy and reality, if we are to make the best choices possible.
Dawkins’s words remind me of those who believe in reincarnation and claim to remember their former lives, like Shirley McClain. It’s amazing how theri former experiences involve only being or meeting the luminaries of history (Cleopatra, and Ben franklin, seem to be favorites) and none of them seem to have had the humdrym life of a farmer’s wife or a chamber maid or were peop;e who had nothing much to say about the meaning of life.
What ‘could have been’, in this sense, is the grass that is always greener on the other side of the fence.
I love dreaming about that greener grass, but then I wake up and tend to my own yard as best as I can.
Those who wake up from the daydream too often have to clean up after and do the work forf those who never do.
I received news that my Pammy had died this week in a dorrway off the street. at the age of 37. Pam was a golden haired child born to a drug addicted mother who died when the child was 7. She was unadoptable as a child because her alcohic derelict facther refused to sign the papers. She spent her life longing and waiting, believing in her father’s empty promises of a reunion and a life behind a white picket fence. Her daydreams became laced with drugs when she was only 14. Although her DNA was realized into a living, breathing human being, she never had a life of any meaning. She was not she next great poet. She was the next soul in agony.
Frankly, I wish she had remained a floating ghost, anything but the reality of what actually happened.
“I received news that my Pammy had died this week in a dorrway off the street. at the age of 37″
Dear domajot: I am so sorry. I am thinking of you.
dr.e
Doma, if you know Dawkins you know he’s not very into fantasy or winged angels. His was an exhortation that, since we really are here despite the odds, we have not just a right but a RESPONSIBILITY to make the best of it, to try our hardest, to contribute as much as we can. As always, he shows that you don’t need the support of a supernatural belief to be awed by the forces in the universe or to feel empathy or responsibility. His statement had exactly zero to do with abortion.
I agree that certain lives rather seem like they would have been better off not having been lived at all. I think that the awesome responsibility given to us simply for being alive INCLUDES that of not having children unless we are prepared (physically, economically and especially emotionally) to take care of them, to give them a family.
As an aside, the level to which governments give value to the decisions of biological progenitors (I refuse to call certain individuals “parents”) boggles my mind. Your Pammy’s “father” not wanting to sign some papers should not have anything to do with her being adoptable. Simply because you share half of your DNA with a child should NOT give you the right to utterly ruin that child’s life. But time and again, the biological relation is given special treatment, as if parents were made by blood and not by love. Ridiculous, and shameful.
Dr. E – thanks
Lynx – I agree about ridiculous laws, and have many additional gripes about them.
I’m just a raw nerve right now about children who suffer the consequences.
Suffering abounds, the world is cruel by our definitions of justice and fairness and we all we can do is try make it brighter by removing the randomness of nature from our lives as best we can. I don’t believe that there are any inalienable rights other than our right to struggle for a bit more of it, and a bit better of it, and perhaps to do so for others as well as time and energy permit. Humans can conceive of the future and can plan for tomorrow as no other living thing can, even though many times we do not and homeless drug addicted children result. But let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater.
Dr. E’s story moved me a bit. Something about a small living thing struggling to survive with no knowledge of that struggle or the goal at the end, struggling simply on biological imperative and coming into the world at the end of it all despite the efforts of nature and doctors. Maybe its because I am a twin. I don’t know but it touched me.
Domajot, please allow me to begin with offering my sorrow for the loss of Pammy. No doubt the challenges she faced were far more severe than most of us could imagine, and I am sorry for the pain she suffered, and for the sadness her loss has left you with.
I also want to say that your points are indeed well taken. While I do not know you, nor do I know precisely what you do, I can see that you’ve experienced life via the teachings of the real school of life, and have indeed been where the rubber meets the road. And that is but one reason why your words carry such resonance.
At the same time, as one who tries to think deeply about the freedom of basic choice, it seems to me that the author of the piece to which you’ve responded has also spent a fair amount of time in the hallowed hallways of the school of hard knocks. And that, too, is but one of the reasons why her words also carry resonance to me.
But I add a different level of thought to what Dr. E. has said, and that is, at least to this reader’s perspective, she offers her view from what I would call a “considered place,” and has obviously given meaningful thought to this precious question, rather than chosen merely to spread the type of knee jerk material which so often serves as the basis of so many who hold her opinion.
And, I also want to add that what I especially appreciate about her piece is that rather than trying to hurl her opinions at everyone, and insist that there can be no other way than her way (I can just imagine any number of people suggesting that it was not “their way” which they wanted people to follow, but a “higher power’s” way which people must be follow), she makes clear that what she is saying is that this is her view, and her family’s view. The absence of the too often typical rhetoric which usually accompanies the debate is striking to me. And, most importantly for me is that fashioning her view in such a manner actually moves the debate forward, rather than insisting that the debate is over, and has long been over.
So I appreciate both ends of the spectrum here. Especially on a day when the insistence of the life force, which is one facet of what I think Dr. E, was really writing about, is so beautifully illustrated by the story of the Jones twins.
“Human beings are tough.” — my mom.
(I weighed 36 ounces when I was born — in ’67.)
domajot — I’m sorry for your loss.
Dr. E., somehow I missed this post until now. Thank-you!
Domajot, I want to tell you a story.
My grandmother died at 35. She was ill and sad. Both her kids were sent to an orphanage for some time, as the father couldn’t be trusted. Then the kids were raised by their grandparents. They have known good times and terrible times, they have cried and laughed, partied and mourned. Later on, I came, had good and bad times and have now beautiful children, though when the first one came I was an insecure student with no money and little prospect…
I understand your grief and frustration and anger. But what I’m trying to say is ; once you’re on earth, each life is worth living. I believe no one can tell if another person’s life was good or bad or worthwile.
True, we can all complain and we all do, we’re only human. But I was really moved by Dr E’s piece and the quote by Lynx. Life is hard, but let’s not forget that there is a little magic in every breath we take.
Being on earth is a chance and rare opportunity to learn to love all aspects of your self, and the Self. It is not an easy task either, such as coming here against all cosmic and personal odds.
Dr Clarissa, when is your book on the Dangerous Old Woman going to be published if so? and how about La Curandera text? missing some of your writings here in Southern Spain…!
We´ve published also a healing or therapeutic tale called Claro Que Puedes 1.0, (CQP 1.0) in spanish on how to free ourselves from school bullying and other forms of agression.
Your books and audio have been a great source of inner nourishment.
Con cariño
Barbara
http://www.monjeslocos.com
Clarissa, you’re awful brave to enter the fray with an essay on the big A.
People are ready to jump into their conclusions when this subject comes up like volunteer fireman jump into their galoshes when the town siren goes off. Walk into the smoke, get burned by the fire.
As a as a man who decided long ago not to contribute any of my DNA to the act of bringing my ‘own’ children into the world, and instead help raise other people’s children, I am rather a cold fish on the subject.
There’s too many of us on this planet. Currently, over 210,000 human souls join us everyday. It may be hard for a child to come into the world, but we seem to doing a pretty good job of it wholesale if you look at the numbers.
In contrast, collectively, we’re not doing near so a good job of taking care of the people that are already here, not to mention the new arrivals and the other creatures with which we share the biosphere.
We are like a culture of the plague, eating up everything in the petrie dish called Earth, and we’re very close to the eleven hour when the exponential growth of our population reaches its peak and crashes. There will be a die off, and we all will have many opportunities to demonstrate our compassion for each other as that process ensues. Or not.
The Spanish conquistadors brought by Cristobal Colon did not stop. The people who welcomed Columbus at first landfall were soon no more, destroyed by European diseases and maltreatment by the Spanish who settled there, gone from this world so completely almost no trace remains.
We won’t stop either–even tho’ we will destroy our own culture and civilization this time. We didn’t stop then, and we’re not stopping now. We won’t stop.
I’m promised myself I wouldn’t go a-Cassandra-ing, and here I am, doing it. Seems I can’t stop.
Dr. Omed, you are as always critically thoughtful and lyric. If you are right, we’ll proceed with all dignity as much as we can. If you are wrong, we’ll proceed with all dignity as much as we can.
Voir dire: My reading of Cassandra is that she is as much strategist as prescient, and her backstory is, in part, that not only was she very much believed by many, she was so deeply believed by some that she was feared, esp by Clymenstra who arranged finally to silence Cassandra
There are among old women Greek tellers I used to know, versions of Cassandra wherein her rapist said no one would believe her accusations against him, who is sometimes portrayed as either a god with a ‘good reputation’ but black shadow foot, or else a spurned betrothed.
Like the Persephone myth and the Pandora mythos, there is far more to Cassandra than has been remembered in modern times. Hang in there. For the Hiway White Cross project alone, your name is written in the book of Life, in fact, I feel certain I saw it in there several times.
For readers who want to read more of Dr. Omed, please go to his blog at Salon: http://blogs.salon.com/0002296/” rel=”nofollow”> http://blogs.salon.com/0002296/
While you are there, also look at his great artful pages, ‘Scissor Dance.’
Bertha, thank you for you thoughts ; ‘magic in every breath,’ indeed. And mystery enough to keep wonder.
Monjeslocos, great name. DOW and La curandera… the old women are rowing through the home stretch of the last of the forest. Soon. Thank you for asking. Re school attendees tormenting others; intervention at grass roots so needed in this very moment. As well as far better reconition of incipient adolescent onset of schizophrenia. Bless your work.
My sense is anything anyone does, helps. That often we can never know exactly how, who, where, at which moment ….
‘Faith’, is the word I understand for continuing in all these matters without always knowing outcome… faith, a palpible invisible that commands/ demands more be done. Then more. Then More. Rest, yes. Then, more. Other people use other words. We may be sailing toward different ports, but I sense we are all on the open sea together. Definitely together.
dr. e
There are so many rich ironies in this life. Despair gives birth to hope within a moment — and vice versa. Some of the people I know who have the least to rejoice over exude the most joy. Life persists.