In Memory Of

Tomorrow, March 1^st, is the first anniversary of Nicholas and Zachary’s due date. Meaning, of course, that it should have been their first birthday.

But instead of getting to post the required “babies covered with frosting” photo, I will instead be posting nothing, using silence as a way to honor the memory of my sons.

It never ceases to amaze me how much I can miss two people that I never met. I shouldn’t be; every woman I know that has been through something similar feels the same way. I know a couple that, twenty years after adopting and raising their son, still think about the little girl they tried to adopt first (the birth mother chose to parent). We who want to parent desperately open our hearts easily, and grieve over each loss, each delay, each moment we spend without children.

Because I am human, I like things to make sense. The loss of Nicholas and Zachary still confuses me. In a world with a kind and loving God, how can such a thing happen? Since the loss cannot be explained, I have spent a great deal of time wondering what spiritual lesson I was supposed to learn from this grief.

While I imagine that I will only understand this all fully after my death (oh boy, the questions I will have then!), I have come to the conclusion that one thing, one tiny shred of grace, has come out of the darkness of this loss.

Somewhere, in the last year and a half, I have learned how to listen.

My mom is a feminist, and raised me as such. As early as fifth grade, I got into fistfights with boys over women’s issues. I remember knocking down and giving a boy a bloody nose with my cast (I’d broken my arm roller skating) in 7^th grade because he said women were terrible drivers. I argued with vehemence and passion, and dismissed all of those that didn’t agree with me.

While a large part of that was youth, I found it impossible to be friends with people that held different opinions than I did. In high school, if you liked Reagan, we weren’t friends. No matter what else we had in common, you were off my radar. Period.

Once I got into recovery, I found a place where opinions about politics were simply absent. This gave me a gift; I learned to like people and trust them before I knew how they voted. Once I found out, however, that they were Republicans or religious, I would find myself drifting away from them (I remember being terribly cruel and unsupportive of a friend who became a devout Catholic while I knew her). Hell, I almost dismissed my dear friend Dave because he hates the Beatles (I still don’t understand how anyone can hate the Beatles, but I’ve learned to love Dave anyway). Dave has taught me more about being an adult and a friend than almost anyone else I know.

By the time I lost the boys, I was primed for further change—and further challenges.

The challenges came suddenly and harshly in the form of Holly, a pro-lifer commenter that declared I had made a mistake in terminating the pregnancy and that my sons could have survived. She argued loud and long. I reacted angrily and forcefully, blocking her ability to post comments, but she’d post from a different computer (I think I ended up blocking her six times). She posted link after link that made me weep, links that said that at least one boy (one had died in-utero, of course) could have lived, that I was cruel and selfish for listening to my doctors.

I knew she was wrong, that she didn’t know the facts of my case. And worse than that, she didn’t care. She wouldn’t listen to me, or to any of the brave commenters that tried to reason with her, and she certainly wouldn’t listen to the commenters that blasted her and condemned her for her cruelty.

Holly’s presence attracted other people who held the same beliefs. And a few of them put up with the abuse from me and others and kept calmly stating their beliefs and offering me sympathy and forgiveness.

At first, I reacted angrily—who are they to forgive me? I did what was required to save my life, after all. It was never me OR the baby; the choice was me AND the baby, or saving me by terminating the pregnancy.

But somehow, somewhere, in those long looping discussions that never really went anywhere (but traversed other blogs), I began to see the grace and generosity in these pro-lifers offering me forgiveness—after all, they were offering to forgive me for committing what they believe (right or wrong, it’s what they believe) a terrible crime. And I found myself able to forgive them as well.

I also realized that I needed to stop yelling. Instead, I made the decision to be willing to answer harsh questions about my decision with kindness and love. I stopped focusing on the anger and accusations and instead listened to the misunderstanding and pain (yes, I believe that those that call themselves pro-life are in pain over the issue of abortion).

When I did this, I noticed several things: first, they stopped yelling at me. My commentors stopped yelling at them as well. We all began to listen to each other.

Then, several of the staunchest pro-lifers realized that there was, in fact, occasionally a need, in a case like mine, for the medical procedure dubbed the “partial-birth abortion.” Not all—in fact, not even most—changed their minds. But a few found that they couldn’t argue against my decision.

The next thing I realized is that we were all able to get past the issue. We began discussing other things. We began to see what we had in common—love of children, faith, a belief in family. Soon, we even began to be able to call each other friend.

What a miracle.

While I will never be able to convince pro-lifers that abortion must, no matter what, remain legal, I have been able to convince them that pro-choicers are not all evil baby killers. And they’ve learned that we are mothers and fathers just like they are. And I’ve come to realize that pro-lifers are not all fire and brimstone and hate, that many of them are loving and kind, and have amazing hearts.

I was reminded of this all when I had a lengthy discussion with a gentleman in the comments section of a recent post at Feministing. When I first began talking about my situation, he was really angry with me. Other commenters began attacking him, but I just quietly answered his questions, and let his anger sputter out. By the end, he didn’t agree with me, but he conceded that my situation was actually life threatening and that maybe the procedure should remain available to those in the same circumstances.

It wasn’t much, but it was more than I ever accomplished by yelling.

It’s not much consolation, of course. Losing two babies just so I could learn how to listen hardly seems fair. But I have to believe that I will now be a better mother because I’ve been granted this gift, this ability to listen. I hope to teach my child to be a listener as well.

Don’t get me wrong—I will never concede to the pro-life movement. I’m still pro-choice through and through and will fight like hell to keep abortion legal. But my heart is bigger because I no longer vilify those that disagree with me.

Love is always stronger than hate, after all.

So, darling Nicholas and Zachary, I hope you can both take heart that in such a short time you taught your mother so, so much. Thank you, and rest in peace my sons. I love you.

Comments

[Sarah]

God Dammit you made me cry AGAIN!

I love you. This is such a beautiful and touching tribute to your boys--your patience and understanding and true grace in the face of so much heartache is inspiring and beautiful.
XOXO

[Shelley]

Beautiful post. May the passing of the years bring you even more peace.

Have you ever read "When Bad Things Happen To Good People" by Rabbi Harold Kushner? It's a truly lovely book about suffering and God, and I recommend it highly.

[Amy V]

Thinking of you, your husband, and your boys.

[ellen]

Thats pretty much the definition of grace. My baby would be year old on March 9th if he had lived.

[Sunny]

Wishing you a peace filled day, thinking about your boys and loving them.

[Catherine]

I will be thinking about you tomorrow. (((big hug)))

[Meg]

Cecily,

I'll be thinking of you and Charlie all day tomorrow. And the boys too. Up here in Canada, I'll be lighting two candles for you/them. Not at a church, just at my home.

[parodie]

Thinking of you.

I'm also struck by how much the very qualities which made you so agressive - your steadfastness, your determination, your certainty in your convictions - make you so able to have a good conversation that is convincing. I am so happy that you can do that, though I am sad you had to travel such a painful road to get there.

[Melanie]

Wishing you & Charlie peace, and sending lots of love to Nicholas & Zachary.

[Cat, Galloping]

Great post. I have tears in my eyes.

Wishing you much peace, health and happiness.

[Kerry]

Lots of thoughts, hugs and peace to you and Charlie. And thank you to the boys for teaching their mommy a lesson in the short amount of time that they had. I feel the same way about our little guy we lost, his life was meant to be short so we would learn something. Some days I know what it is we were meant to learn, others I don't. But I do know these babies, as short of a time as we get them, are a great gift every second we have them.

[Leggy]

Jeez, between you and Sarah, I don't know who's making me cry more.

I hope that you and Charlie get through tomorrow as best you can. I know how hard the anticipation of anniversaries can be. And the day itself is just an exercise in muddling through watching the hands on the clock, willing them to move faster.

[sheilah]

Ah, gee...you went and made me cry at work.

Are you happy now?

(I hope so)

[Julie]

Prayers going out to you, Charlie and the boys. My heart breaks for your losses Cecily. I'm glad you have found some peace this year. Your sons' memories will live on forever in many people's hearts and minds.

[Wavery]

"Applause"

[VGB]

You are a really wonderful inspiration.

[Moxie]

You are such a good mother. To your boys and your baby and to all of us, too.

Thank you for letting us be here with you.

[Kinneret]

My love to the four of you.

You, my dear, are an incredible woman.

[Journeywoman]

What a beautiful post.

Nicholas and Zachary will be remembered.

I hope you have a peaceful day tomorrow.

[Roe]

Delurking here... to let you know that you are truly an inspiration! I cannot even imagine going through that horrible experience and coming out of it alive, sane and having faith! God bless you, Charlie, little bean and your boys!!

[Julie]

Delurking to say...
Thank you for your beautiful writing. I hope you are able to find peace and love tommorrow (and everyday after.)

[Arwen]

Bless you today, for writing this, and especially tomorrow, in your grief. Sending lots of prayers that you may be able to bear it.

[Heidi]

I don't really have my mind completely made up on abortion but I will tell you one thing. If I just lost one of my sons and had to go through the torture of losing another shortly after, you better believe I am yelling at people who give me crap about it!! This is your blog, I might not agree with every thing you say or every blog I read, but I don't judge others or their decisions. I hate that...I think you had every right to yell. However, I do think it's awesome that you can get your feelings out without yelling now.
Sorry...had to get that out.

[Emily]

I'm so sorry for your loss.

[Ann]

I have read your entire blog and have been lurking for a while. This post made me unlurk.
First off, I would like to say how truly sorry I am for your loss. I cried when I read about it and I find myself coming back to your blog frequently to see how your pregnancy is progressing this time and hope and pray that in a few months you will be holding your precious healthy baby in your arms.
Secondly, I should admit that I am firmly pro-life. Therefore, I do believe that Roe v. Wade should be overturned. BUT, before you or anyone else attack, I would like to point out that even without Roe, abortion in a case such as yours would have been legal.
Let me tell you my story (or I guess you could call it my mother's story). My mother was pregnant in 1964 and had severe pre-eclampsia that fortunately for her manisfested itself late enough in her pregnancy that she was able to deliver my brother who was born blue but was revived and is perfectly healthy. While still on the delivery table immediately after his birth, my mother went into convulsions, her blood pressure skyrocketed, she hemorraged and almost died. After that ordeal, the dr told her in no uncertain terms that she should not have any other children as the likelyhood of death for her and the child was extremely high.
In 1966, despite careful use of birth control, my mother became pregnant again. Her doctor, who had delivered my brother, recommended a therapeutic abortion because he truly felt her life was in danger from this pregnancy. (Yes, this was prior to Roe but based on the dr's recommendation and her prior history, this WAS LEGAL). My mother refused the abortion, deciding that if despite birth control, she had gotten pregnant, then maybe God meant for her to have this baby. She had a rather uneventful pregnancy much as she had before. The day she went into labor, she cleaned the house, did laundry, prepared some meals and froze them and then proceeded to pack all her belongings into boxes. She believed the dr when he said she would die delivering another a child and she didn't want her loved ones to have to pack away things when she was gone.
She waited until the contractions were less than 2 minutes apart to tell anyone and arrived at the hospital at 6:45pm. I was born breech at 7:15pm. Thankfully, she and I both survived my delivery and I had the gift of my mother for another 25 years and 1 month. I was also the only person there to comfort them when both she and my father passed away, so maybe God did have a purpose.
Cecily, I know your situation was completely different and I DO NOT judge you in any way for the heartbreaking decision you had to make. I just felt like I had to point out that not everything is quite as black and white as people on both sides of the abortion make it out to be. Saving the life of the mother has always and will always be a medically (and socially) accepted reason for abortion.
Sorry this comment is so long, but I just felt like I had to tell the story. Thanks for putting up with me.
God bless you, God bless the precious baby you are now carrying, and God bless and keep your sons in His arms. I'll be thinking of you and Charlie tomorrow.