In August of 2005, my husband and I experienced a completely unplanned pregnancy. It would not have been as frightening had we not already had two children with autistic spectrum disorders. The younger of the two was also mentally retarded and had Tourette Syndrome. The older boy had ADHD and Oppositional Defiant Disorder. It seemed like we had run the gamut of diagnoses and seen more specialists and therapists than we dreamed even existed.
At the age of forty-one, my suspicion that I was pregnant again filled me with anxiety. I tried to tell myself that I was simply stressed and my period would surely arrive soon. No amount of worry, however, could account for the swollen breasts and the fact my pants were getting difficult to zip.
With the doctor's confirmation of my condition, I was reduced to tears. I simply looked at him, sucked in my breath and said quietly, "I don't think I can do this." I was on a cocktail of medications for fibromyalgia and depression at the time, some of which were known to cause birth defects. I was just coming off my third trip to the psych unit for the year. My mother was battling cancer and needed me. To top it all off, my marriage was not exactly a bed of roses. Thus, the thought of bringing another child in to this three ring circus seemed impossible and even cruel.
At this point, my doctor gave me a kind smile and said, very calmly, "It's pretty early. You have plenty of time. Go home, think it over, talk to your husband and then you let me know what you want to do." There was no pressure from him one way or the other, no look of shock or judgement. In a small rural community of mostly church going people, I did not expect him to be so understanding. He was a doctor during the week, but the Lutheran choir director every Sunday!
I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my face and walked to my car for the short drive home. All I could think about was how much I loved babies and how the odds that this one would be normal were horribly stacked against it. My husband and I had discussed all this before my appointment and he had said it was my decision. He would support me either way.
I am not sure exactly when it hit me, nor how many lines on that short stretch of highway went by, but suddenly I knew what I had to do. I was so scared but there was no other option for me. I pulled in the driveway and called my husband to tell him the news. Then, I asked him, "Would you think I was crazy if I said I want to have this baby?"
He sighed but I could sense a smile behind it. He replied,"Yeah, but I've known for years that you were crazy." We both laughed and that was that. Come what may, we were going to have another child. We would love it, normal or not, and face whatever lay down the road, together.
At the age of forty-one, my suspicion that I was pregnant again filled me with anxiety. I tried to tell myself that I was simply stressed and my period would surely arrive soon. No amount of worry, however, could account for the swollen breasts and the fact my pants were getting difficult to zip.
With the doctor's confirmation of my condition, I was reduced to tears. I simply looked at him, sucked in my breath and said quietly, "I don't think I can do this." I was on a cocktail of medications for fibromyalgia and depression at the time, some of which were known to cause birth defects. I was just coming off my third trip to the psych unit for the year. My mother was battling cancer and needed me. To top it all off, my marriage was not exactly a bed of roses. Thus, the thought of bringing another child in to this three ring circus seemed impossible and even cruel.
At this point, my doctor gave me a kind smile and said, very calmly, "It's pretty early. You have plenty of time. Go home, think it over, talk to your husband and then you let me know what you want to do." There was no pressure from him one way or the other, no look of shock or judgement. In a small rural community of mostly church going people, I did not expect him to be so understanding. He was a doctor during the week, but the Lutheran choir director every Sunday!
I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my face and walked to my car for the short drive home. All I could think about was how much I loved babies and how the odds that this one would be normal were horribly stacked against it. My husband and I had discussed all this before my appointment and he had said it was my decision. He would support me either way.
I am not sure exactly when it hit me, nor how many lines on that short stretch of highway went by, but suddenly I knew what I had to do. I was so scared but there was no other option for me. I pulled in the driveway and called my husband to tell him the news. Then, I asked him, "Would you think I was crazy if I said I want to have this baby?"
He sighed but I could sense a smile behind it. He replied,"Yeah, but I've known for years that you were crazy." We both laughed and that was that. Come what may, we were going to have another child. We would love it, normal or not, and face whatever lay down the road, together.
That was 2006.
Today, in 2010 as I write this, I am watching him play with the neighbor kids. He has tousled blond hair, a bit longer than a boy's should be, and dimples in his full, rosy cheeks. He looks for all the world like his father, except for those big, brown eyes and the long lashes any girl would be jealous of. Those are an inheritance from me. Around that precious mouth, that is constantly either grinning or pouting, lies a face that is rarely clean.
I smile as I watch him run up and down the steep, grassy embankment by our apartment building. Next, he takes a riding toy to the top and careens downhill with stunning showmanship. Shirtless in the late afternoon sun, he is at this moment so carefree it nearly makes me feel jealous. I can see him being a true heart breaker someday.
He is in kindergarten now and all indications are that he is just fine, mentally and emotionally. Each morning when I watch him walking away from me, usually last in line for the school bus, my own heart aches just a little. In my head, I hear that Kenny Chesney song, "There Goes My Life".(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xP-Sxfntdb4&ob=av3e.
Today, in 2010 as I write this, I am watching him play with the neighbor kids. He has tousled blond hair, a bit longer than a boy's should be, and dimples in his full, rosy cheeks. He looks for all the world like his father, except for those big, brown eyes and the long lashes any girl would be jealous of. Those are an inheritance from me. Around that precious mouth, that is constantly either grinning or pouting, lies a face that is rarely clean.
I smile as I watch him run up and down the steep, grassy embankment by our apartment building. Next, he takes a riding toy to the top and careens downhill with stunning showmanship. Shirtless in the late afternoon sun, he is at this moment so carefree it nearly makes me feel jealous. I can see him being a true heart breaker someday.
He is in kindergarten now and all indications are that he is just fine, mentally and emotionally. Each morning when I watch him walking away from me, usually last in line for the school bus, my own heart aches just a little. In my head, I hear that Kenny Chesney song, "There Goes My Life".(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xP-Sxfntdb4&ob=av3e.
The driver swings the door shut and my boy is gone from my sight. As the bus pulls away, I wave goodbye.
I look up at the sky and I say, "Thank you, Allah/God, for giving him to me."
I know when I decided to accept this gift, it was the best choice I had ever made.
I look up at the sky and I say, "Thank you, Allah/God, for giving him to me."
I know when I decided to accept this gift, it was the best choice I had ever made.
Update: 2025
All of this said, I still completely support reproductive choice. After all, when left in charge of our own lives, women usually make good decisions for themselves and their families, no bans or court orders needed!
I will rejoice on the day that this fact is acknowledged, and every pregnancy is treated as the unique event that it is.
I certainly would not have wanted the fate of my pregnancy decided by anyone except my husband and myself.
I am of the strong opinion that no one should subvert a woman's right to choose.
If I'm capable enough to have a baby, I'm also capable of making my own choices.
And I made a great one all those years ago!
