A Tale of Miscarriages and a Wannabe Viking Funeral

I've had one abortion and four miscarriages. Miscarriages apparently run in my family on my Dad's side. My paternal grandmother had several. I believe her mother had some. My middle sister also had several in her quest to have her one child. Not that we talk about it. Who talks about miscarriages, really? So there may be many more miscarriages on both sides of my family that I was just never told about.

Recently I've seen an online movement to change that, and I agree with their goals, so here are my stories. I'm starting with the abortion because a miscarriage is simply a spontaneous abortion, so it doesn't make sense to leave it out just because it was paid for instead of just having it happen to me naturally.

It was the summer of 1988. Things had fallen apart on me. Our family home had burned to the ground earlier that year, and on my way back to college I wrecked my truck during a blizzard. That did a number on my left ankle, my sternum and my neck. Not to mention my poor truck which we had to use money we didn't have to fix. My attendance to class that spring was spotty which contributed to my downward spiral grade wise (it really is impossible to walk to college up a steep hill using crutches in a town that believes in spring as a way to deal with snow and ice in the winter). When the semester was over, I was unceremoniously kicked out of the rental I had in Spearfish for something I didn't do. My sister came to my rescue, allowing me to live in her frat house in Rapid City for the summer rent free while I commuted to and from my DJ job in Deadwood.

And it was a long hot and humid summer at that. I met Michael when he and a friend of his sat down on my porch to relive past parties held at the frat house. He was cute. One thing led to another and we started a relationship. Probably one of the most attentive men in the sack I've ever been with. Unfortunately, the last time we got together, he went through the motions of putting a rubber on, but he didn't actually do it. I found the unused condom on the floor next to the bed later on. I don't know if it was his intent to get me pregnant or not, but he stopped seeing me right after that. No explanation. Just showed up at a party a week or so later and he was with someone else. I really liked him so it was quite upsetting at the time.

It wasn't until a month later after I was back at college that I suspected I might be pregnant. I had a dream which ended with a very sharp pain in my abdomen. I just knew. Immediately I realized that I couldn't have the child. I couldn't go back to where I came from. I just could not. College was my only ticket off the reservation and I wasn't going back. I called my mother and let her know. She was disappointed of course. But her first reaction was, "You will be getting an abortion, right?" Which immediately made me want to tell her I was keeping it. Mom was a teeny bit, ok, a whole lot, controlling, so I'd developed a knee jerk reaction of wanting to do the opposite of whatever she told me to do. I'm luckily bright enough not to be controlled by such emotions, but I definitely considered it. Basically it hinged on Michael's reaction to the news. I fantasized that he would want to get back with me in order to raise our kid, but, alas, that wasn't how it turned out at all. I called him to let him know, then I quickly told him not to worry, that I'd be having an abortion. To which he responded, "Break a leg." Now, some 25 plus years later, I realized he said that because he thought I was acting. At the time I thought he was really wishing me good luck. Ah, yes, I was quite the naive girl for way too long.

At that point there was no question I would be getting an abortion. In South Dakota at that time, the state legislature had made it illegal for anyone in the medical profession to even say the word, "abortion", so I got a list of clinics passed to me slight of hand from a nurse at the women's clinic in Spearfish. There were four locations and numbers - Denver CO, Helena MT, Sioux Falls SD, and I forget where the other one was... probably also in Montana. It's been a while. All were about an eight hour drive away one way. The cost ranged from $285 to $350. I was going to go with the cheapest in Montana, which was also the closest, but my mother decided, since she had to pay for it, we'd be going to Sioux Falls (South Dakota only had one abortion clinic in the entire state at the time and it closed a few years later when the doctor retired). We had family there. Not that I wanted to visit them, needless to say, but being a poor college student, I didn't have a lot of options. Such a procedure, although out patient, does require you don't drive after. So I had to have a chauffeur. I also needed a place to stay that night along with the money to cover the procedure. Family was my only option.

I was eight weeks along, there bouts. The procedure was painful and stressful, but the clinic and all who worked there were nothing but considerate and kind. One nurse's only job was to hold my hand. I really appreciated that. They gave me several months worth of free birth control pills. I had not been able to afford them, that was why I was relying on condoms. I hadn't been seeing anyone for quite a while, either, until Michael. Loyal to a fault. I also found out I was RH negative which shocked my mother (Natives, she thought, weren't negative). They gave me a shot for it and I figured that fixed me for any future pregnancies. Yeah, I was disabused of that later on.

BTW, a shout out to my youngest sister who was still a teenager at the time, who dressed up to the nines in order to lure any pro-life protesters' attention to her instead of me when we went to the clinic the day of my abortion. As luck would have it, there were no protesters that day. I was relieved, but my fiery sister was disappointed.

For the most part my religion helped me. We don't believe fetuses have souls until after they are born and breath air for three days (without medical help). And my religion holds that to name a child before their third day is bad juju. If named and then the baby dies, the name ties the soul to the earth condemning that soul to, well, a hell of sorts. You don't want to do that, obviously. Baby ghosts are the worst I'm told. Still, in my mind the fetus was a he and I named him Joshua. No idea why on the name. I don't think I have any relatives with that name. It also doesn't show up on my full page doodle of baby names I had when I was in High School. :P

Now spring forward to 2004. I met Brian on Christmas Eve 2001; though, we had been corresponding via email for several months prior. He had found and responded to my alt yahoo profile. I was quite active in Yahoo Chat Groups back then. I miss those days. Anyway, Brian emailed me out of the blue because he liked my picture and what my profile had to say. We found out later that we were also practically neighbors. We just had a high school between us. Still, it took almost three months of emailing back and forth before we agreed to meet informally on Christmas Eve. On February 12th we sat down and talked it out. We decided then we'd start dating, and date exclusively each other. We also decided we'd move in together probably in the Spring which was considered as good as marriage in both of our religions. He moved in May 1st, 2002 and that was that.

Spring of 2004 was when we had planned our legal marriage for the sake of taxes and the parents. When we had met, we had both been employed, but 9/11 had just happened a few months earlier. By the time of our wedding date, both of our industries had hid rock bottom (Events for me and Hotels for him) and we were both unemployed. Still, we decided to start a family anyway, and, because of my age, 35, we figured sooner rather than later would be smart. He wanted a bunch of kids, but I said two, only two, and none once I hit 40 (I wasn't able to follow thru on the latter).

The first miscarriage was before our wedding date. I thought I was pregnant, but then I had a weird, painful, heavy period before I could get a test. A few months later, right after our wedding, I had another. I didn't know they were miscarriages until the third one happened. That put the weird pain I had been having with the heavy periods into perspective. And that is how I recognized the fourth one as well. The first two and the fourth were all miscarriages within the first month or so of pregnancy most like. The third one was different because it lasted four months... and we had told everyone.

We'd only been legally married a few months and Brian had picked up a job, but hadn't been there long enough to qualify for insurance. So we took an over the counter test to confirm our suspicions. We only told a few select friends, even so. No family yet. But three months in I started to bleed... and that is where it all started to go wrong. We realized I had to go to an ER, so opted for a small hospital we knew didn't get much ER traffic (no one likes to wait). Big mistake. Unbeknownst to us it was a geriatric hospital that was in the process of being shut down. We found that out after the fact. Even though it wasn't very busy, everyone acted way overworked. They wouldn't take my word that I was pregnant, so they did a blood test. No problem... except the area they took the blood from wouldn't clot. Very unusual for me. When we pointed it out to the doctor, he just shrugged. Then congratulated me on being pregnant and sent me for an ultrasound. The ultrasound, my first ever, was a farce. The little woman who was doing it was so tired I practically gave it to myself. First wand ultrasound, too. My friend who took me and I joked later about how 'special' the experience had been for me. Yeesh!

After that the doctor game me a yellow piece of paper that said I had a 50/50 chance of miscarriage and sent me on my way. That was it. They basically only confirmed what I already knew, which was not why I was there, and it all cost us a lot of money, too. Still, we decided to remain positive and told our families. Things went along without change for another month before I finally miscarried. This one was different than the first two because I knew I was pregnant and I was much further along. Still, at the time I was miscarrying I thought I was just constipated. It was around 5am in the morning and I miscarried in the toilet like most women do. I'd given up straining and was about to get up when it just happened. I went, "Oh!", which brought Brian running. He was getting ready for work when it happened. I remember him yelling, "What is wrong!" at me, but I was having difficulty putting it into words. I finally told him to get me a towel... I think I had miscarried.

As I got myself up off the toilet without bleeding all over, I told Brian to get the slotted spoon from the kitchen drawer. I curled up on our bed with the towel between my legs while Brian fished what I had miscarried out of the toilet. It was about a thumb's size bit of red, purple and white tissue. Nothing recognizable. More than likely it had been dead for awhile and my body had partially reabsorbed it. We didn't know what to do with it. Brian eventually put it in a bag and put it in the dumpster on his way to work. We lived in an apartment complex, so there was no place to bury it. I tell people now we gave the fetus a Viking Funeral. In retrospect it is what we wish we had done. But Brian was rushed to get to work and I was just so tired.

I stayed in bed for most of that day. I eventually got up and cleaned up. I put the bloody towel in a bag with the intent to throw it away... but I didn't. I stuffed it into the top of my closet and kept it. It also moved with us the next year when we went to Phoenix.

I waited for Brian to get home before we started calling people to let them know the news. Later on in the week we went over to Brian's parents' house. When I walked in I came face to face with my mother-in-law. She just gave me a look, reached out and tucked my hair over my ear, and smiled. I almost lost it. If she had given me a hug, which it looked like she wanted to, I would have broken into a thousand pieces. To this day I'm not sure if I am happy or unhappy she didn't. We swore at that point we would not tell friends and family about me being pregnant until I was at least six months along (we were not ultimately able to stick to that promise). In my mind that baby would have been a girl and I think of her as Grace. Again, no idea why. We'd already picked our baby names at the time, so if the pregnancy had gone to term and we had a healthy baby, it would have been named either Leland or Ruth.

Our Honeymoon, a cruise Brian's family got us, was a few weeks later. Some close friends of ours had booked on the same cruise to join us. It was supposed to be a good time... but the miscarriage kind of put a damper on it for me. The very first evening I was zoned out. My friend's husband noticed at dinner and was concerned. The motion of the ship and having nothing pressing to do, such as work or cleaning or anything, left me feeling weirdly adrift. I couldn't focus or enjoy anything. I finally went back to our room early and went to sleep. I didn't even mind our room was right underneath the main stage... and it sounded like they were doing a Chorus Line. Thankfully my malaise didn't linger and I was able to have a good time on our Honeymoon.

The last miscarriage was a month or so after we got back from our Honeymoon. It was only a few weeks along. I only knew what it was because I was now quite familiar with the pain involved. I yelled at poor Brian for it. "You did this to me!" I was sort of trying to be funny. He didn't take it as funny. Not long after that Brian got fired from his job because someone messed with his schedule. That's a whole other story. He immediately went out and got a job as an OTR driver with a big company right away. Excellent insurance!

It was right after that that the last shoe finally dropped. My best friend and business partner (and cruise partner) wanted to call it quits... both our business arrangement and our friendship it turned out. When one of my clients asked if I would move to Phoenix to be his new venture's graphic artist, I jumped at the opportunity. Brian picked up a dedicated route out of Phoenix and we got out of Houston and away from my memories at the start of 2005. Sometimes you really do need to run away for awhile.

I eventually burned that bloody towel at Leeland's consecration ritual. Ah, now that's a funny story! But I'll tell it at another time.

Five Challenges of Older Parents

I am 47 years old and am the proud mother of an eight year old boy and a five year old girl. When my husband and I decided to go ahead and have a family, even though I was looking at the downside of my 30s, it never really crossed our minds not to do it. We had it all figured out of course. We would have a boy and a girl as close together as we could have them (we were hoping for twins). I would stay in my career, working to support our family, while my husband would be the stay at home dad. Unfortunately... it didn't exactly work out that way.

My husband and I met online just before 9/11. We were both gainfully employed. I already had my Bachelor's Degree. Brian was working on his. But by the time we walked down the aisle in April of 2004, we were both unemployed and looking at an uncertain future. Before we went on our honeymoon in August of that year, I had already had two miscarriages. Another followed not long after.

By the time I was offered a career opportunity to move to Phoenix, AZ, we'd basically given up on the whole kid thing. Figured it just wasn't in the cards after all. That was late 2005. Brian had gotten a good job driving truck, with good health insurance, and my career was finally back on track, albeit, with a property development startup. Well, you can kind of guess what happened next. We got pregnant again, and the housing bubble burst.

The first challenge of being an older parent are the genetic tests. I was 38 when I became pregnant with Leel. Downs Syndrome and other genetic abnormalities become more of a possibility. Thankfully, the barrage of tests put Leel's risk of a genetic abnormality at less then 1%. We spent a lot of time in doctor's offices, and I had to fork over a lot of blood, to get those results.

My last day at my job (I was being let go because the housing market flatlined), I started to bleed. I left that position in an ambulance. By the time I got to the Women's hospital, my doctor had already abandoned me (he didn't do high risk). I was 26 1/5 weeks along or so. I spent the next two and a half weeks in the hospital with HELLP syndrome. I required transfusions and steroids to keep me going long enough for the baby to develop far enough to have the best chance to live outside of the womb. That miracle time was 29 weeks the doctors said. We made it, and Leel was taken out by emergency c-section (my platelets were dropping again). He was tiny, but healthy. I spent another two weeks in the hospital battling infection and recovering. Leel came home two weeks after that.

Boy were we unprepared! It is hard enough trying to prepare for a full term baby, but a preemie has its own set of special rules. Leel was born blind, which is quite common. He required special doctor visits which had to be done like we were trying to smuggle him out of the country. Preemies CANNOT get sick. Things relax a bit once they reach their actual due date. Leel was born in December. He was due in March.

Because of Leel's special needs, Brian couldn't quit his job or we'd lose our health insurance, and I couldn't get another job because we had no one to watch Leel.

The second challenge of being older parents is less family support. Leel's grandparents were already in their 70s by the time he was born. My father died decades before his birth. My mother was/is in poor health. Brian's parents are still independent, but not physically capable to watch little children for very long. Brian's and my siblings were already in the middle of raising their own families and/or careers. Brian and I (and our families) were at the mercy of the job market as well, since it was the time of the Great Recession. Several of our siblings lost their jobs after 2008. Brian had to go where the jobs were. More often then not, those jobs were no where near our families.

Don't get me wrong, our families totally stepped in when Leel was born, and later when Runa arrived. They've been nothing but supportive and there for us in every way they can be. Our families rock. We are super blessed to have them all.

The third challenge of being older parents is giving up our lives/dreams. Young parents have similar issues, but as older parents, we don't have the years after the kids go to school and leave the nest to look forward to. Originally we had thought Brian would be getting his graduate degree at the same time as being a stay at home dad. His parents went to school at the same time they started a family. Instead I gave up my career for the most part, and Brian gave up getting his graduate degree since he had to work to support us. An acquaintance, a new father, was going on to me just today about how he had to give up scuba diving and his home beer distillery because he decided to become a father. It clarified to me what Brian and I have given up due to our age to have our kids. We were not well off when we met and decided to live the rest of our lives together. Were we selfish to want a family anyway? I don't know. We have no regrets regardless. We adore our children. We'll both be near retirement age by the time they graduate from high school. So, instead of saving for our retirement, we are saving for our kids' college educations. Retirement is very likely not in the picture for us.

We both believe we'll be able to go back to school eventually, ourselves. I want to get my Masters in order to teach, and Brian wants to get several degrees so he can live out the rest of his days doing linguistic and anthropological research. We still dream.

I spent the first almost three years with Leel mostly alone. I did freelance graphic design from home to help bolster our income while Brian was out on the road. When I became pregnant with Runa, we decided to make a push to move closer to family. At about seven months along, we moved closer to Brian's family.

My pregnancy with Runa was completely normal. No preeclampsia this time. Again we went through all the genetic testing and more. This time I was tested for diabetes over and over again, and tested for long term high blood pressure. I passed every test. But at eight months along I was experiencing PPD. Probably due to the stress of finding a doctor. Even though we had good insurance, no doctor wanted me because of my age and weight. They'd throw tests at me trying to find a problem so they could excuse their not wanting to treat me. Didn't matter I was almost full term. On top of that, we couldn't come up with $3,600.00 upfront. That was our insurance deductible. We paid out of pocket for all the tests, but it wasn't enough for the doctors I saw. Having insurance was more of a problem then help. Because we had insurance we couldn't go to a clinic or get medicaid. But because we couldn't afford our deductible, no for-profit doctor would consider us. We figured I'd be having Runa in an ER (rates are quadrupled that way) whenever I went into labor. The biggest problem, besides cost, with that scenario is the complications that could arise from having a natural birth after already having a c-section. A few weeks before I was due, a teaching hospital took me on, thank goodness!

Runa was born via c-section when I was 41 years old. Although the pregnancy was completely normal, my recovery afterwards wasn't. I write about that experience in three separate posts - Hitting Misery's Bottom, No Where to Go But Upward, and Healing - http://contemporary-native.blogspot.com/2012/03/hitting-miserys-bottom.html .

The fourth challenge of being older parents is preparing for our deaths (and old age in general). Our kids could be very young when one or both of us die. We hope not, of course. We both hope to live into our 80s or more. Brian is convinced he'll see 100. For me, though, because of my weight and limited movement, I have to be more realistic. Having my two children took a lot out of me, I'm afraid. Finding Guardians for our kids in case of our deaths while they are still young is much more immediately important. Thankfully, we both have siblings and friends who want to help. As it is our children will be living through their grandparents' deaths sooner rather than later. Luck willing we will be there to help them through their first experiences with grief.

The fifth challenge of being older parents is missing out on our children's adult lives. Will we live to see our children become successful? Get married and have families of their own? We don't know. Will we ever get to the point where we see our kids as fellow adults instead of our little babies? I sure hope so. I hear all the time from other parents about how much they miss their kids being little. We do not. Not at all. For us we are always anxious for the next year. We can't wait to watch our kids grow, learn and blossom. Every year behind us is a personal success for us and our kids. No way would we want them to be babies again. Baby fever is definitely a thing of the past for me. Perhaps part of that is because I am starting to go through my change of life. My poor husband. He has to deal with my menopause and our kids' adolescence at about the same time. Hormone overload! Poor hubby!

Every parent has their own challenges. Every parent gives up much to have children. We aren't special in that regard. Some of the challenges are just different. And some, like giving up privacy in the bathroom (or anywhere), we all share.

The Price of Family Shame

This is probably the hardest post I will ever write. The problem is ingrained in almost every culture.

Even though statistics show our streets are as safe as they were back in the 1970s, we still keep our children close and don't them run about town because of "stranger danger."

I reject "stranger danger."

Why? Because they aren't a stranger to someone. Every person out there who has less than healthy designs on children and other people are KNOWN to someone. But we wait for human predators to mature and get caught instead of doing anything to stop them before they hurt someone.

There will never be an absence of predators out there. That is the way of things. Yet, overall, life is a whole lot less dangerous than it used to be. But we still keep our kids close and often to their detriment. Better overweight from lack of exercise than the remote possibility they will be kidnapped by a stranger while riding their bike.

I maintain that for every bully, sociopath, psychopath, molester, gynophile, pedophile, rapist, hater - for every predator - there is someone who knows, someone who knew, but chooses/chose not to tell. That choice 'not to tell' is the crux.

We aren't doing our kids a favor by keeping them close. Most children are molested by someone they know. More often than not a family member. The odds are EXTREMELY high it will not be a stranger. Same with being raped. Yet we focus on "stranger danger" over all else in spite of the evidence to the contrary. Evidence that is not new. This is the way it has always been.

I've been studying this for over 25 years. I have my own family nightmare that I wish I could talk about openly. I'm being a full on hypocrite, actually, by not talking about it. And why don't I talk about it openly? Why don't I name names? Because it will hurt a lot of people. It's not that I didn't tell people several times back when it was happening to me, I did. No, the blame for not stopping it early on does not fall on my shoulders at least (I was eight). But I am part of the problem none the less for keeping the secret well into my adulthood.

So why didn't the adults I told back when I was eight stop it? First off, they did try. But the biggest reason it wasn't taken to someone, a professional, outside of the family is because of "family shame".

I'm 44 now and, like I mentioned, I've been studying this for a very long time. I've been in group therapy sessions, talked with friends, read books, researched online and studied psychology and sociology in college. I took every psych and related class my university had to offer. I even did independent studies on pedophilia and recidivism, as well as childhood personality development. Because of my "side" obsession, I ended up going to school for over six years before I graduated.

Look at it this way, the adult predator in question who we all love to hate started out as someone's child, someone's sibling, someone's nephew/niece, someone's cousin. If you found out today that your little brother or older sister was a predator, what would you do? Would you really? What if they were 10? That's how old my abuser was when it started. I was five. I told my mother three years later.

Don't envision me as your five your old daughter, envision the 10 year old abuser as your child. What do you do? It's so much easier when the abuser is someone else's child isn't it? Easier to call social services on them. Call the police. Hate them.

What happens to this child you love if people find out they are an abuser? 

Now think of your reputation. Your spouse's reputation. What will people think of your other children? And if you do get the child help, many states require therapists report such things to social services regardless of doctor/patient confidentiality. What will your neighbors think? The people in  your children's school? The parents of your children's friends? Your fellow church goers? Your employer and fellow employees? Can you imagine such a family stigma?

Can you blame these families for burying such secrets?

As a mother myself now... well... I understand it, at least. But, yes, they are to blame.

Why? Because most predators are made, not born. I only found out recently that my abuser was molested in a public bathroom as a young child. If the adults I had told had gotten my abuser outside help, therapy, right away, things could have been so different. BOTH an abuser and a victim would have been saved. As well as any other current/potential victims. Not to mention the next generation of victims and so on. THINK of all those who would never have been victims if the molester who abused my abuser had gotten help early on.

Do you see! Don't you think that is worth any stigma?

No? Well, I understand, I do. But you must also know that keeping such secrets not only doesn't make it stop or go away, but puts a heavy burden on the victim, right? NOW think of me, the five year old victim as your child, too. Do you think getting outside help would make things worse for her? Unlikely. She already lives with a constant dread of accidentally being left alone with her abuser. Or the abuser finding her alone. Her outgoing personality has already changed to one of quiet submissiveness and fear. She blames herself. She hates her parents. The feelings of helplessness will linger long into her adulthood. Sex will be scary. And she will go through life always feeling as though she is tainted. People will judge her on a personality, emotions, reactions, character, that don't seem like her own, but were forced upon her by circumstance. And how does her history of being a victim at such a young age effect her as a mother?

So now is the stigma worth it?

To me, even after airing my own experience in this, it is still, really, all about the abuser. Those young boys and girls who start abusing other young people. Getting them help is the important thing. We have so many tools today to deal with abusers. And the younger they are when they get help, the better. SAVE THEM!

Saving them will be what really changes the future for many would be victims. And by changing the future for them, we change the future for us all.

My main intent here is to get people to realize that there is a remedy, a bitter pill certainly, but a remedy for those we consider human predators. And the whole stranger danger thing is more harmful than good. Now I'm not saying every weird uncle, overly friendly grandma or ham fisted cousin is a predator, but if you were warned as a child to stay away from them, then they probably were.

So please, stop over protecting your children from every stranger they see. Some day they may find themselves in a situation where a stranger will be needed to help them, or possibly even save them. Teach them to simply be observant and smart. And teach them to realize that every kid they see on the brink of violence is probably just trying to survive. Encourage them to speak up and speak out. Regardless of a bully's past, the bullying still needs to stop. For everyone that speaks up and speaks out, whether about a peer or a family member, many will be saved. I truly believe there are many more good people in the world than bad. For every one predator there are 100s more who are caring. All some of them need is a nudge in the right direction.

As for me and my skeleton, well, it still lives with me; although, it barely bothers me anymore except to remind me that it is still in the basement. I would love to bring it out and give it a proper burial (and pronoun), but, then, that would be telling now wouldn't it?

When You Have to Tell Them

Some of you have been there. It starts with the moment you learn something that you KNOW will adversely effect someone you care about. What do you do? Ignore it? If it is bad enough do you contact the "authorities"? Do you tell them knowing they'll probably hate you forever?

Back in late December I found out something that no one wants to find out about. It is hard to talk about this without naming names which means it is hard to write this without worrying people I know and care about. So let me qualify this post early on with saying that I did tell them. They know. So if I haven't talked to you about something earth shattering concerning your family (and that is glib compared to how serious this situation really is), then all is well with you and yours.

But not for one family I know.

So, yes, it took five months to tell this person the heart rending information that had fallen into my lap. I was determined to tell them right away, but things got in the way. Some news you have to tell in person. So how do you encourage someone to come visit without getting all alarmist about it? Well, that is what I tried to do at first. I made social invitations and such, but our schedules didn't line up. Then that big client I picked up totally took over my life. So time past.

Last week I saw this person online and was smacked with the reality of the situation all over again. I talked to my husband and he said I had to tell them. Period. So I had good intentions of sending out an email/personal message to get them over to our house... and forgot. Or put it off, more to the truth. Then the small bearer of the bad news in the first place reminded me yet again. But now things had changed a bit. The person I needed to tell was experiencing a sudden, extremely tough, personal family tragedy. How could I possibly tell them now?

My husband said it doesn't matter. The more time that was allowed to flow by, the worse the situation could get. I had to tell them.

So I sent the private message that said it was imperative we see them as soon as possible. And within the day they arrived at our house. I, with Brian as emotional support for us all, told this friend straight out. Ok, I may have prefaced it with, "You are going to hate me, but..."

Is it a War on Women?

Yeah, I'm doing it. I know I am not the first and I won't be the last to blog about this. But I feel like we need a bit of a record of all the things being debated about at the government level that has to do with women right now. Seeing as how Legislating/controlling women is so in vogue these days and all. As the photo I borrowed illustrates... WTF?! We, the last three generations that is, thought we had made a permanent foothold into equal rights. That we had forged a path that could not be easily done away with. We let down our guard I guess.

Current legal abortion as a hot women's topic is too easy, so I'll let that pass. And going after Planned Parenthood is nothing new, really, so I won't even go on and on about that. But... the bills coming up about uterus police for miscarriages, no abortion even when pregnant as a result of rape or incest, and no abortion even to save the life of the mother EVEN if the fate of the fetus is also death, make no sense. There are laws passed to criminalize doctors for doing any abortion; even life saving ones. Then there are states forcing women to pay for additional ultrasounds (some by wand) and receive a lecture (that goes against freedom of religion) before they can lawfully terminate a pregnancy . Oh, and there was that bill requiring women get permission of the father in writing before they are allowed to have an abortion (a little awkward, no? if the pregnancy is a result of rape or incest?). How about redefining rape to make abortions harder to get? The whole growing bias that women are not smart enough or, as they say, can't make an informed choice when it comes to their own health care, their own bodies or the decision to have, or not to have, an abortion, I find repulsive.

And so we move on to no insurance coverage for female contraceptives of any kind. Even when prescribed for a medical condition other than to keep from getting pregnant. Um, why aren't contraceptives considered medical? What's with no women experts allowed to speak about contraceptives? What's up with that? More of that, "women can't make an informed choice" crap? We are too stupid? Yet no debate on whether insurance should cover Viagra or penile implants. How about the bill that would make it legal to fire a woman for having contraceptives? And now there are religious leaders saying oral contraceptives cause homosexuality. WTF? the latest state bills signed into law allow pharmacists to refuse to fill out any prescription they feel could be used to induce an abortion and physicians are not allowed to legally withhold information from patients if they think that medical information may result in an abortion or other thing against their personal morals. These "Conscious Measures" are so broad and vague it can be applied to anything. So even if the birth control is prescribed for medical reasons, a pharmacist can block a woman from medicine her doctor has prescribed; medicine she may need for a medical condition. And what if that information the doctor decides to keep from their patient costs them their life? Will the law save them in a court of law? This is not how medical care should be practiced in a civilized country! The religious beliefs of a medical practitioner should not trump the religious and cultural beliefs of a patient, especially if it may result in the suffering and/or death of the patient.


Beyond contraceptives or abortion are bills redefining when life starts. I don't know when life started, but I do know that pregnancy is a continuation of life, not the start. The stupidest bill of them all is the one that passed saying conception or life starts two weeks before fertilization. Besides it being against most faiths (including those who follow the teachings of the bible), it negates contraceptives of ALL kinds, makes abortion illegal at any stage, makes every woman a murderer who has a period or a miscarriage, and makes every man a killer who masturbates. Complete idiocy.

And yet women are being punished for choosing to have their children, too. Another state legislature drafted a bill that would make single parenthood tantamount to child abuse (to try and keep poor, single women from keeping their babies).

Recently the money put into preventative healthcare, especially for women, has been given the label "slush" fund and is targeted to be cut. Their rational is that putting money into cancer screenings, child immunizations and quit smoking programs is a waste of money. I believe it has been proven, without a doubt, that such preventative healthcare GREATLY reduces the cost of healthcare overall for everyone. So this goes into the War on Women category because the preventative measures being funded and the target of cuts are mostly for women.

The Supreme Court said, just last year, women employees couldn't sue Walmart for low wages, low raises, low bonuses and little to no advancement in comparison to male employees because Walmart employs mostly women. ie, a majority aren't allowed to sue. Um, Walmart, like a lot of businesses these days, hire women to lower their bottom line because it is permissible to pay women less then men. You'd think men would be pissed about that. Several states have bills up for vote that would lower the minimum wage of tipped employees. Positions mostly held by women (over 80%). The coup de gras, Scott Walker, the much loved (sarcasm) governor or Wisconsin has repealed the state's Equal Pay law stating that men needed the money more than women.

And here I add yet another bill introduced to make all divorce illegal. Which, even though I think people often get married with little intent to stay the minute things get rough, is wrong on many levels including separation of church and state, freedom of religion, and personal freedoms of course. But the main problem is the lawmaker introducing the bill has it as ALL divorce illegal regardless of abuse. He literally said Women need to remember why they got married in the first place. That takes it to the war on women level. But let's take it even further. Yet another state has DECRIMINALIZED Domestic Violence altogether. Why? Because the police have better things to do than keep husbands from raping and killing their wives or live in girl friends. Even though men abuse much more so than women, this law also does a disservice to men who are abused. What next? Decriminalize child abuse?

A friend of mine hypothesized that Republican lawmakers ARE working on creating jobs... they are trying to get women out of the work place so there will be more jobs for men. I'm starting to believe that is true; certainly the new proposed laws seem to support it.

I found out the other day that in all areas of power, from our state and federal legislators to corporate CEOs to governors to boards of directors to mayors to ambassadors and world leaders, et al, the one area where women, by the numbers, are the closest in equality to men is in our own United States Supreme Court. And they are not equal, just the closest. Women make up just over 50% of the population, but even though we are equal in numbers here, we are not anywhere close to equal numbers in positions of power, and therefore, representation.
 
I also was made aware that Obamacare would require all persons pay the same amount for healthcare regardless of gender or adult age. Did you know that, right now, women pay, on average, 20% more than men for healthcare, sometimes as much as 70% depending on which state they live in?

ALL of that mentioned above has happened in the LAST THREE-PLUS YEARS. I'm not even talking about how historically women are treated... just the last three-plus years and only at the U.S. state and federal government level. Sorry, but that really is a war on women at the top levels. I can't see excusing most or any of that. You can't go, "Oh, you can't pay attention to the extremists." We are talking about representatives here. Lawmakers. People voted in by us!


Seems obvious what we need to do to stop this idiocy and work towards a better representative government... VOTE.