Thursday, October 29, 2009

Giving Birth to Dead Fetuses

I couldn't be more grateful to be carrying a baby to term that will die within minutes of being born. I'm in no way being sarcastic, or relying on my ability to adapt to just about any situation, short of is the truth.

A large part of my appreciation goes to the tremendously committed efforts of activists, known as the Right to Lifers. I give them my thanks for the precious two-and-a-half months I'll have left, feeling my baby's kicks, squirms, and well-oxygenated wiggles.

From the literature I've read on bereavement by parents, who've lost children in all stages of pregnancy, by both choice and nature's power, I'm walking the correct road. The one that will spare my soul, cause the least regret, and strengthen my character...these are my values.

Also, I'm concerned I'd have been too quick to decide for myself that "termination" or "pregnancy interruption" was the answer, had insurance agreed in my particular case, to help me over that $10,000 barrier. As is one of the dilemmas when you have to travel three states away, once past the 24 week limitation that I hadn't previously factored.

I've learned that this standard is a credible boundary kept intact by researchers and physicians whose specialty is to determine what's best for my female body, and for my fetus, my unborn child. I also personally believe it was God's design for my possibilities to be constrained by that timeline, so that I might see for my own self the valid points and positions defended by the Right to Lifers.

However as a mother to five children and one developing fetus, and as even the most righteous advocate of the most heart-rendering cause will admit, or finally tell you...until one walks in the shoes of the parent who must advocate for her own life, and the life of her own child, it is not the Right to Lifer's privilege to decide any other person's behavior.

"All men are created equal", as protected by the laws in America, and Freedom of Speech and persuasion is alive and well in this Republic, thanks be to God. Even the abortion clinics themselves welcome the hiring of encouraging Christian women who are quite influential in coaxing expectant mothers towards other options. I experienced, followed, and was blessed through that guidance myself, over ten years ago.

It's a wonderful thing to see beauty and potential in chaos, to feel more empowered than the parent who decides too briskly, or after much thought and prayer, that their child is somehow a monster, or unfit for survival by human standards. And, it's an unfortunate position to be in, for all women who must witness imperfection in God's design (please, allow doctors to illustrate, and anatomists to tell you).

A human being can persuade, shout, and even presume to know God's plan for our lives, or for the life of a fetus or a significantly malformed newborn. Our pastors can support, dissuade, or remain neutral with regards to our decisions,...and the free press can publish as many fact-based, or passion-inspired gifts, as any cause requires.

Federally-funded insurance is being offered to our citizens to protect and defend the health of our whole entire nation. It is not a tool to be wielded by unlicensed speculators of women's thinking, or an opportunity to limit without solid medical reasoning, the options available that provide complete and total healthcare.

The coverage is ethical and moral no matter what the procedure, so long as it is in line with the American Medical Association's standards for practitioners. Which are not dictated by insurance companies, faith-based influence, or the squeakiest wheel in the system...but instead, by educated and experienced physicians who operate in humankind's best interest.

At least that's my position, that my civil liberties will remain fiercely protected by our elected politicians. May our nation's conscience be well, and bi-partisan support be won, for all.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Back with less vengeance

Let's hope. It's only Sunday, tomorrow could be a whole new day of "don't mess with me" prose. You never know which stage of grief I'll be processing, or how relevant October's news will be, or which morning music videos they'll show. Nevertheless, the battle studies will go on, and on...and on, of course.

Until, um, world peace comes around. Which I'm not depending on, just noticing its progress with regards to my standards, that's all. Go team go.

In more personal news, and less worldly observations, the experts were honest and that's a relief. Inoperable, no surgeon would try to, better case scenario than most available, so. It's quite ironic the Christian perspectives that become obsolete through this very situation.

And the women, doctors, and babies who are abused and silenced by said ignorance, yo! Can't wait to be sane enough to take a bite out of that one ;-).

Monday, October 19, 2009

I'm mad about November, and December too.

It's when all the important music comes out, plus my wedding's anniversary, you know, the one I fashioned at Sundance? Back when Robert Redford wasn't so old. Every day he just gets older and older, like some others keep getting fatter and fatter.

You know how it is when the rush of the week caused you to write an unspectacular essay entitled "The Separation of Testicular Integrity and Breadcrumbs," yet you can barely drag yourself to the library to publish it?

Plus, you dared to lose your virginity in it, and knew then too, unpublishable. The following three were equally horrible, recopied on PAPER even, but then, too much to lose. Probably that 'N' word I used twice unabashedly, and then thought exactly twice about.

Oops, for thinking, and typing, then writing. Just be glad you don't have to read it on here.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

This is all about Miley

Quit reading into it. Look how comfy the 'u' fits next to the q, adorable. Doesn't make queenship correct American behavior, however. It's why I've always been a fool for friendship, and a non-hater of Daddy Cyrus. Who needs to start singing more and attracting more fans.

You can never have too many fans when you're a Christian, because of all that free lobster. If lobster doesn't remain free for SOME people, the rest of us will get jacked somehow. Usually how it works.

Take the highway system for example, and all the tax dollars we effortfully pump into it. Okay, it's against our will, somebody else's decision, but STILL. We need our roads, and I said it over a year ago on HuffPo, with regards to something ridiculous the Republicans couldn't stop doing despite everybody's best interest.

And that interest could feed alot of mermaids, you know. Roads, roads, where was I? Ah yes, they're called "drug corridors" where I come from. Gangs actually own them, or they at least prove their currency through violence which is somewhat the same, and more frightening than Drew's mug, I can tell you that for sure.

Oh the initiations we must endure, gang-related or not. Somebody more mature should not only like that the best, that person should know when to call his "ho" a ho.

Monday, October 12, 2009

The next fork

A trip to meet with the experts, who will confirm yet again what I already know. I'm not sure I fit the typical criteria of a mother in my position, I want only the truth. I need to understand this force called life, even more now that I've pictured the walnut-sized organ in my mind, and men who decide instruments can rearrange just about anything, that invisible strength that draws us to try.

Or is it just a pump? A circuit in a cycle, none more important than the others, I just don't know. What's the difference between an old person whose organs are failing, when doctors admit, realize, or whatever, that living's not the hope. As compared to a newborn, willing to thrive on less oxygen for a while, and witnessing that "fight" that's just inborn.

It's the fight that scares me the most. My doctor said that no matter what the case, all life strives to stay alive. That's going to hurt the most. Can you picture me as well as I can, throwing up all through labor and delivery, typical birthing-style. Knowing the life that is traveling through me, squirming more loudly each and every day, will only survive for a while?

The worst pain I can imagine, followed by some sort of liberation I'm sure. I'll take them both.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Doubt is safer and wider

Like the plains. Sure, I once resided in an actual city, and dated a New Yorker with a REALLY BIG mouth. Just added to my life experience, and he lost me, never quite figured me out. Oh well.

I'm glad I didn't have to live my life beside that loser, pleasing his mother, and forgiving all the havoc he caused to my soul, or couldn't help. Because he's the one out there surgically removing cancerous growths right out of people's anuses, I inspired him to be a doctor, that's what I'm about.

Or so I keep telling myself. People can become what they want when they decide it, only makes it more clearly an insult when they don't. Be it an actual friend with standards that match mine, a concerned parent (but not the ass-kissing kind), or an elf.

Take the ex-boyfriend who couldn't choose me until he proved something to himself...didn't matter the timing, or the order, or the circumstances in the end. It was always only about respect. And he lost out.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Paint the town cyan's the only color left. And with the refusal of the overly-white bred to even discuss sex slavery (for fear of offending the Princes, oh that). Might as well just keep living in the now and pretending that clean drinking water is a choice for everyone, isn't that right, fat cat?

Kanye, Kanye West. No clue how you'll ever, ever make your comeback. Not with the way your spine shivers at mere mention of reality, you know, fact? Look it up in the dictionary, I'm sure it's written in English. Hold on for a second while I waste my time to check.

Um yes, yes it is. Right under bitch slap. They've rearranged the entire order, and guess whose comfy at the bottom, your friend. So comfy, she didn't even realize that. Never bothers her even a teensy, eensy bit, someone more mature would probably like that.

Someone who wants no simpler life than to fully enjoy the experience of taking her kids to get their hair cut. Without being interrupted by Drew Barrymore who has nothing more profound to report on, than her flatbread being too bland.