Why I still stand with Planned Parenthood

My first job out of college was at Planned Parenthood of Central North Carolina. I ran the Emergency Contraception Hotline. EC was still by prescription only so all day long I would take calls and fax out prescriptions. I liked to tell people I prevented more abortions in that year than most people do in their entire life.

I learned a lot that year about Planned Parenthood the organization, about their mission, about the women they serve. I also learned a lot about abortion services and the women and men who provide them through Planned Parenthood.

These were the most dedicated, most compassionate, most authentic people with which I have ever worked.

Recently, The Center for Medical Progress, an anti-abortion group, released “sting” videos in which they falsely portray themselves as representing a company that procures fetal tissue for medical research and engage with employees from Planned Parenthood about these sales.

The highly edited videos are used to argue that Planned Parenthood is profiting from these sales. The full footage shows the employees repeatedly stating they do not make money off these exchanges and they only cover their costs.

The argument that Planned Parenthood profits off abortion is as old as Planned Parenthood itself and it is completely and totally false. Human beings are complex and human beings run Planned Parenthood. I have no doubt that there have been mistakes and that decisions have been made that neither I nor 100% of Americans agree with – just like any other organization on the face of the planet.

However, the idea that Planned Parenthood is a vast money-hungry conspiracy to increase abortions is totally and completely ludicrous. Eighty percent of the services Planned Parenthood provides are preventative, which means 8 out of 10 women served by Planned Parenthood are being helped to PREVENT a pregnancy and by extension an abortion.

If you believe that somehow Planned Parenthood is lying about these numbers – in DIRECT violation of federal law and without their well-funded and incredibly passionate opponents noticing, then I have a bridge to sell you.

Now, if you have a problem with Planned Parenthood providing abortion services AT ALL, then that is another discussion.

The other thing I learned during my time at Planned Parenthood is that women are not going to carry a pregnancy they do not want. Period.

My boss used to say, “If I had a nickel for every woman who came in here with a cross around her neck and said, ‘I don’t believe in this but I can’t have this baby.’ I’d be RICH.” (Side note: she was NOT rich. See previous argument.)

There are two discussions to be had about abortion. Pragmatic and philosophical.

First, the pragmatic reality of abortion.

Abortion has existed since the beginning of time. It will continue exist until the end of time.

Period.

If you are uncomfortable with that, I’m sorry but it is the reality. You cannot legislate an end to abortion. We have tried. Other countries have tried. And, as far as I know, there are no abortion-free countries.

We can do our best to serve hurting populations and work to end poverty and prevent rape and incest and all the other terrible things that exist, but abortion will continue.

All you do by making abortion illegal is make it difficult and, therefore, dangerous.

So, we must deal with the reality of abortions – hopefully, by making them in the famous words of Bill Clinton “safe, legal, and rare.”

Planned Parenthood does that, which is why I will continue to support this organization.

Second, the philosophical debate surrounding abortion.

My friend recently shared a Rachel Held Evans post on the religious difficulties surrounding the abortion debate.

“For a lot of pro-lifers, it seemed, abortion was all about the baby.

The woman, and the factors that might contribute to her decision to terminate her pregnancy, didn’t seem to matter much....

For a lot of pro-choicers, it seems, abortion is all about the woman.

The unborn child, and all the complicated, terrifying, and beautiful things its life represents, don’t seem to matter much. ”

— Rachel Held Evans

I have long argued that the pro-choice moment does itself no favors by ignoring the moral complexity of this issue. Any woman who has ever been pregnant or carried a baby to term would never argue that the fetus inside her is merely a clump of tissue – no different than a liver or kidney.

I certainly wouldn’t.

However, I also wouldn’t argue that that fetus is the same as a six-month-old baby or a teenager or a fully grown adult. I can’t draw a hard line in the sand as to why I feel like that. I don’t have a definitive moral or philosophical answer as to when life begins and I’m comfortable with admitting that.

Because I don’t believe the point of philosophy or ethics or religion is to give us a math equation to solve difficult issues like abortion. I believe we are entrusted with these tools as empathetic, sentient beings to do the best we can to grow and learn and cast a little bit of light on the dark parts of life itself.

And the pro-life moment does itself no favors by ignoring the complexity of my position and arguing I don’t value life.

Because, let me be very clear, I support Planned Parenthood and I support a woman’s right to have an abortion, but I have also stood on the banks of the Ohio River and scattered the ashes of my 16-week-old fetus and I will NOT be lectured to about the value of life.

I will NOT.

These issues are complicated and I think the one way in which the pro-choice movement gets it right is that there is one simple fact that cannot be debated. The fetus or zygote or baby or clump of cells or whatever you want to call it exists within the body of another life – the life of the woman carrying it.

By elevating HER choice and HER decision above all else, we acknowledge that no one is better equipped to deal with the complex moral and philosophical issues surrounding abortion than the woman choosing to have one.

Are there issues of age and consent and information that we have to deal with? Absolutely.

However, the idea that you know better than her is problematic to say the least.

The idea that a male legislator could decide the reproductive future of women he has never met is as upsetting to pro-choice advocates as the deaths of aborted fetuses is to pro-life advocates.

By acknowledging that both sides HAVE A POINT, perhaps we could change the debate. 

Felix's Nursery

This post is sponsored by Hibou Home - a sophisticated collection of contemporary, designer wallpapers and fabrics inspired by timeless themes children know and love.

Even before I knew whether our third baby was a girl or a boy, I knew I wanted a traditional nursery. I've done modern. I've done rustic. I wanted a nursery that was delicate and light and ALL BABY.

As I began looking for inspiration, I found myself drawn over and over again to nurseries featuring wallpaper. During my search, I found Hibou Home, which features the most precious children's wallpaper you've ever seen. I immediately fell hard for the Secret Garden design in Waterlily. 

I didn't want to paper a whole wall knowing the nursery would only be used for a couple of years. Instead, we put up three panels and framed the panels out with molding spray painted gold. Then, I added a gold branch accent that I'd inherited from my great-aunt. I absolutely love the finished product. 

I loved the wallpaper so much and had PLENTY left over that I decided to cut silhouettes of all three boys using the remainder. I used my Silhouette Cameo, which cut the wallpaper perfectly and recycled frames my mother had given me. I especially love Griffin's profile with the branch falling across the middle!

The rest of the room features our old changing table and new rocking chair both with a fresh coat of custom-mixed chalk paint by Flower + Furbish. I hung the "where" print by holli and painted "sweet dreams" using This Little Street's printable as a stencil. 

I'm so happy with the results!

AND I STILL had wallpaper leftover so my friend Liz used it in her baby girl's nursery!

Embracing my new life

I’m back.

Back to the real world filled with laundry and deadlines and never enough time to do what I need to do. As vacation came to an end, I felt increasing panic about returning to all of this.

What if I left the beach and went back to feeling miserable? 

I got myself in such a state that as we were driving home that a traffic delay and miscommunication with my husband sent me into a full on toddler-level meltdown. I’m not proud of it but I can see how I ended up there.

Vacation was SO great and writing felt SO good and everyone was SO supportive that a let down was probably inevitable. 

And yet, here I sit. Not miserable. Tired? Yep. Busy? Yep. But not miserable.

I’ve been thinking about how I got to a place where I felt so desperate. I spent so much time at the beach getting out of that space that I didn’t really think about how I got there in the first place. 

You would think my lowest point would have been the year before when I lost the baby, but weirdly it wasn’t. After my surgery, when I was left with nothing but my grief, I took what I call the kitchen sink approach. I threw everything but the kitchen sink at my sadness. Yoga? Yep! Running? Yep! Meditation? Sure! Gratitude journal? Daily spiritual readings? Therapy? All of that too, please!

My grief was its own thing - something I was strangely able to compartmentalize. I knew I had to deal with it in order to move forward. So, I did. I managed the HECK out of it. I was going to be hyper-capable at grieving. 

And in a weird way - it worked. I dove right through the center of that pain (still do when it bubbles up to the surface at unexpected moments) and came out the other side changed.

Then, Felix was born. 

I had spent literally years convincing my husband (and the rest of my family) that three kids was going to be great. It wouldn’t be THAT hard. It wouldn’t change THAT much. All of those articles that say people with three kids are the most miserable were like fuel for my fire. 

Those people were full of shit. We were going to be different.

The hard truth is I wasn’t just convincing them. I was convincing myself. We were really, really happy before Felix was born. The boys were at such fun ages. Nicholas and I were happy at work and both feeling really fit and healthy. We would go on weekend adventures geocaching and I would think, “Why do I want to mess with this?”

But - for reasons known only to the deepest parts of my heart - I wanted another baby. 

So, we got pregnant and the worst thing happened.. and we got pregnant AGAIN and I had gone from being a fit, happy mother of two to a hormonal, exhausted woman grieving one baby and pregnant with another. 

And I couldn’t admit to myself - much less to anyone else - that I was afraid I’d made a horrible mistake. So, I kept moving FORWARD. This fear didn’t feel like my grief. It wasn’t something I needed to embrace and deal with. I felt ashamed. It felt like something I needed to hide. It felt like something I needed to run from.

So, run I did… until I was a hormonal, exhausted mother of THREE - with a beautiful baby, two beautiful boys, and a loving husband - who was 300% miserable.

All because I still wanted to be the fit, happy, well-rested mother of two. 

I couldn’t let go. I had a death grip on my old life and it was pulling me under. I kept thinking if I could just get back there, I would feel happy again. If I could lose weight or get some sleep or get control of my life again, everything would be better. 

Eventually, I will be well-rested again. I will lose the weight. I will have children who all wipe their own butts.

But I will never be that Sarah, again.

I have to grieve that because I really liked that Sarah. 

But this Sarah ain’t so bad either. This Sarah that traded in a little less control for a little more chaos. This Sarah that traded in a little less sleep for a lot more cuddles. This Sarah who is stronger and wiser and more resilient. 

This Sarah who faced the fears in her head and still chose the desires of her heart. 

34 Things I've Learned in 34 Years

1. It feels good to be wanted. Since I can remember, my mother has always told me she wanted “a red-headed little girl named Sarah.”
2. The unconditional love of grandparents can make an ordinary childhood feel extraordinary.
3. Books are the only child’s best friend.
4. Learning isn’t a chore. It’s a privilege.
5. College is the perfect mix of freedom and responsibility.
6. It’s all talk until you’re the one being cheated on.
7. There are friends chosen for you by life and friends you chose for life. Each is special for their own reasons.
8. Absolutely nothing is solved in the middle of the night.
9. Sleep is essential.
10. Girlfriends. Are. Mandatory.
11. Marriage is an epic odyssey so chose someone who you want by your side in battle and celebration.
12. Build skills not a career.
13. Low cost of living is the key to happiness.
14. Losing weight is about the calories you eat not the calories you burn.
15. Raising your children in your hometown is like having a parenting cheat sheet.
16. Learning to respond instead of react can make ALL the difference.
17. EVERYONE needs therapy.
18. Having a baby doesn’t have to be a physical trauma. It can be an empowering physical act.
19. When it comes to babies, sleep begets sleep.
20. Sorrow can swim.
21. How good of a day my kids are having has very little to do with how tired they are and MUCH to do with how tired I am.
22. Red lipstick is all the makeup you need.
23. THIS is the best chocolate chip cookie recipe.
24. There are very few things that either a hot bath or a hot cup of coffee can't fix.
25. The days are long, but the years are short.
26. My emotions are relevant, but they are not reality.
27. Doctors can provide information – not answers.
28. Everyone feels like an imposter from time to time.
29. The second you figure out your kid they change.
30. You have until the age of 3 to call your child’s bluff.
31. People who don’t read Harry Potter or listen to the Indigo Girls are not to be trusted.
32. Gratitude is essential to survival.
33. Forgot sunscreen. Wear a swim shirt.
34. Control isn’t the key to happiness – acceptance is …. Ok I’m still learning this one. 

Gratitude

I’ve taken a long walk on the beach every day since we’ve been here.

Every day I walk and I think. I think about how I got to be in such a desperate state. I think about what is at the base of my fears, my anxieties, my stress.

The first day it was obvious. I was tired. The second day and each day after I unpacked the less obvious – laying down each burden one by one – my fear of failure, my longing for a daughter, my regrets, my grudges, and my struggle with control.

Today as I walked I just felt quiet. I didn’t hear a chatter of emotions competing for my attention. I didn’t feel as if I was untangling a complicated knot of sadness trying desperately to get at what was bothering me.

I just felt calm and peaceful and so, so grateful.

Thank you.

Those are the words that kept running through my mind. Thank you to my dear friends for sharing their parents’ vacation home with us. Thank you to the babysitters we brought along so that I could actually have a vacation. Thank you to my husband for letting me disappear and write every day.

And ESPECIALLY thank you to all of you. Every day - Every. Single. Day. – since I first confessed I was struggling there has been a steady stream of support pouring in from all you. People reminding me I’m resilient and strong. People calling to me from the shore – saying they made it safely to the other side and so can I. People struggling to stay above the surface just like me - people who thanked me for giving voice to what they were feeling.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I’m not foolish. I know it can’t stay like this. I have to go back to reality and try to keep ahold of some of the peace I’ve found here.  Some days will be better than others, but no matter how bad the day gets I will never forget this journey. I will never forget how wonderful all of you have been.

I’ll be tired again. I’ll feel sad and vulnerable and even overwhelmed.

But I’ll never feel so alone.

Thank you for that.

Sarah

Control

Several months ago I wrote a post about how I was a secret perfectionist. I wrote about my desire to be a perfect mother and some of those words I wrote are still true. I’m hard on myself and I need to practice more self-compassion.

However, I’m realizing that my issue isn’t with perfectionism. It is with control.

The situation doesn’t have to be in perfect as long as I’m in control of it.

I LOVE to be in control. My family calls me the cruise director. A marriage counselor once looked at me and stated matter-of-factly, “Well, you clearly steer the ship.” Friends often put me in charge of projects and activities. Even my kids will tell you, mommy is in charge.

Perhaps it comes from being an only child. I had complete and total control of my environment. No siblings messing with my stuff. No competing agendas or priorities. I wasn’t necessarily the center of my parents’ world but I was most certainly the center of my own.

You would think being married for twelve years and parenting for six would have loosened my death grip, but no. If I can be, I still want to be in control.

When I feel out of control is when I suffer the most. When I lost the baby. When I’m taking care of a baby. When I’m exhausted. When people are being mean or unfair.

When something is not going my way and I can’t do a DAMN thing about it.

I hate it. I feel powerless and vulnerable and stuck. My word of the year is vairagya. It is Sanskrit for non-attachment. The idea that you don’t become attached emotionally to things you can’t control.

Clearly, the universe is teaching me the first lesson of that which is “Hey, Sarah, YOU CAN’T CONTROL EVERYTHING.”

Sometimes I will be tired. Sometimes things just won’t go my way. Sometimes I will make mistakes. Sometimes people will be mean.

And there is nothing I can do about it… which even as I type those words makes me a little nauseous. It's easier to cede control while on vacation when I have unlimited free time and babysitters and ocean waves to inspire me. 

Alas, I can't stay here forever and I can already feel myself ramping up for the return to real life. I can feel the part of my brain that manages and schedules and prioritizes and CONTROLS getting louder and louder the closer we get to departure.

I don't know how to quiet that voice and keep the calm I've found over these past few days. I know writing and exercising and meditating are all a part of the equation.

But I also know that some days won't go as I planned and there will be LOTS of things I can't control either way.  

And instead of feeling like that is a challenge to be tackled maybe I need to see it as a reality to be accepted. 

Until tomorrow,

Sarah

Forgiveness

We’ve been at the beach for four days now. More times than I can count I’ve dove in the ocean or the pool only to kick my way to the surface seconds later. The moment I break the surface of the water and take a breath always feel a little magical.

It’s how I feel right now. I feel like I’m breaking the surface of this funk. I’m coming up for air.

It feels so, so good.

It feels like I’m letting things go. It feels like I’m moving on. It feels like I’m finding my balance.

Of course, JUST when you get your balance life has a way of shoving you off your feet. Yesterday, at the pool, I had pulled Amos with me into the deep end to practice his swimming. He has been fighting us tooth and nail all summer, but we’d forgotten his floaties and I decided now was my chance.

He cried and hollered. I told him he knew how to blow bubbles and hold his breath that I’ve seen him do it all summer. I dropped his underwater a few times and sure enough he did exactly what I thought he would do. He held his breath and blew his bubbles.

Still, he’s a stubborn kid and he kept fighting me. I stayed calm. I told him I could stand here all day and that his friends were having fun and he could join them if he tried. I told him he was a big strong boy and I knew he could do it.

He calmed down a little but the second he’d go underwater he’d freak out again and grasp for me. I never let him go. He never choked, but he still kept fighting me.

Finally, a lady came over and said, “If you dunk him one more time, I’m going to report you. I’m a licensed reporter. That is not the way to do it and everyone is watching. I’m DISGUSTED.”

I just stood there. Speechless. Amos in my arms. Then, I went to the steps and kept practicing with Amos, who finally agreed to go under water if I went with him.

Meanwhile, I was in a full blown shame spiral. I felt terrible. Maybe I was pushing Amos too hard? Maybe I was going about it the wrong way?

I wanted it to be simple. She was a bitch and I was doing nothing wrong and that was the end of it.

I’ve had a lot of confrontations with friends and some strangers over the past few years. Confrontations that still haunt me when – like now – I’m feeling vulnerable. They’re old wounds I like to reopen when I’m feeling sorry for myself. Broken friendships. Hurtful comments. Tokens of my failings I spread out on the table to prove I’m actually as terrible as I feel.

I want my own personal brand of closure for each one. I want the person to sit down and apologize for hurting me and it has taken me so, so long to realize that is not EVER going to happen.

It wouldn’t matter if it did. It’s almost never as simple as they were wrong and I was right. I wish it was.

In an interesting twist, it was a book on organizing that finally helped me see the light. In The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, Marie Kondo states simply,

Not every person you meet in life will become a close friend or lover. Some you will find hard to get along with or impossible to like. But these people, too, teach you the precious lesson of who you do like, so that you will appreciate those special people even more.

I want every friend to be my best friend. I want every stranger – including the lady at the pool  - to see my parenting and think I’m the BEST. 

Alas, it doesn’t work like that. Some people are only around for seasons. Some are meant to teach you valuable lessons.

The biggest lesson I need to learn is forgiveness - whether I get my cathartic closure or not. The first thing Annie says every time I come to her complaining about the latest insult or insensitivity is "Have you forgiven them?" I know she's right and I know it will be a struggle.  

Forgiveness is so hard because I'm unforgiving of myself. I've beat myself up all day about the pool fiasco. Telling myself I was wrong. Telling myself I traumatized Amos.

Instead, I should acknowledge the complexity of the situation. I was not at my best and neither was she I'm guessing. I'm still a good mother and she's probably a good person.

I can't control anything about that woman or anyone else who has hurt me in the past. All I can do is choose to learn a lesson, practice forgiveness, and move. on.

Until tomorrow,

Sarah

Regret

“There ain’t nothin like regret... to remind you you’re alive.”

— Sheryl Crow

I’m going to be 34 next week. I always thought I would enjoy aging. When my grandmother and mother would complain about growing older, I would roll my eyes and ignore them. No one wants to get gray hair or aching joints, but confidence and wisdom and self-acceptance? That always seemed pretty great.

I owe my mother and grandmother an apology.

Suddenly, turning forty isn’t some far off fantasy where my life has sorted itself out and I’m enjoying the fruits of my labor. Suddenly, forty is SOON and I don’t feel sorted out at all.

I’m still not 100% sure of what I want to be when I grow up and I know no one would describe me as anything other than grown up. My body shows the effects of four pregnancies and three births. Even my red hair (which thankfully hasn’t gone gray yet) doesn’t make me any less invisible to most people I pass on the street.

Or at least that’s how I feel sometimes.

When you’re in your 20’s, everything is so full of promise. Mistakes only occupy the past. They don’t define you, because you have so many years to figure everything out. You have time to start over. You have time to change paths.

Now, mistakes suddenly take up so much space in the future. It’s not just that you screwed up. It’s that you wasted so much valuable TIME screwing up and time has suddenly become a precious commodity.

Listen, I know I still (hopefully) have lots of time left. Women in my family tend to live into their 90’s, which means I still have two more acts.

But … THIS ACT... This act is over and I worry that I made all the wrong choices.

I see my friends who have spent years accumulating promotions and raises and I wonder if I’m made a huge mistake by staying home. I see careers I envy. I see jobs I would enjoy. I worry that I put all my eggs in the wrong damn basket.

I realize that there are things I really want to do but I am so, so scared to try. I am so scared that I will fail and it will mean more time wasted.

I was just expressing these fears to my friend today when only a few short hours I ran across this little shot of amazing courtesy of Elizabeth Gilbert.

“These days, though, I spend less time thinking about my Inner Child lately, and more time focused on my INNER CRONE — the old lady who lives inside me, whom I hope to someday be.

Because she’s a serious bad-ass.

The really old ladies always are bad-asses. I’m talking about the real survivors. The women who have been through everything already, so nothing scares them anymore. The ones who have already watched the world fight itself nearly to death a dozen times over. The ones who have buried their dreams and their loved ones and lived through it. The ones who have suffered pain and lived through it, and who have had their innocence challenged by ten thousand appalling assaults...and who lived through all of it.

The world is a frightening place. But you simply cannot frighten The True Crone.”

— Elizabeth Gilbert

Then, I remember aging isn’t awesome because you’ve figured it all out. Aging is awesome because you realize that NO ONE has it all figured out and that figuring it all out isn’t even the point!

I love being married but not because I’m perfect at it. I love it because it’s hard and rewarding and frustrating and magnificent and I’ve picked the most awesome person with which to take that journey.

I love being a mom but not because I’m perfect at it. I love it because it forces me to fail and then to pick myself up and try again. I’m so scared all the time as a parent, but it doesn’t matter because the momentum of life carries me forward through a million hugs and runny noses and temper tantrums and my fear wears itself out along the way.

Like I’m always telling my kids everything great in life is a little bit scary and I suppose that includes life itself.

Aging is HARD. My fear and regrets aren’t going anywhere. Neither are my mistakes. But I’m still here. I don’t know if I can envision my True Crone quite yet but I can envision Sarah 20 or 30 years from now. The version of yourself Tara Sophia Mohr calls your Inner Mentor.

I can see her. I can see her smiling with gray hair and lines around her eyes. I can hear her urging me on – past the fear, past the regret – into future where there might be less time, but there’s still plenty of hope.

Until tomorrow,

Sarah