Miscarriage and Abortion: To my Interlocutors

I know that it is hard to understand me. Things I say and do are maddening. It is easy to push me away and to reduce my actions, words, and love, yes love, to hatred or envy. Often when we make choices out of fear, power, ignorance, or even apathy, we turn on others because they reveal those choices to us in some way. This is why when someone like me honestly shares the truth about pain and loss, I am accused of hatred or envy. I get it. In openly discussing the reality of miscarriage and the loss of a real person, I am implicating abortion. This implication is abhorrent to some, ignorant to others, and a long awaited sense of freedom and healing for so many.

I was supposed to grieve silently and on my own. I am supposed to take my cues from the abortion culture and pretend that I didn’t lose a child, or if it was a child, to grieve behind closed doors. I won’t grieve silently anymore, and neither should anyone else. In doing so, my desire to share my suffering in the service of others was greatly misunderstood by many. I knew this would happen, but I am not who you say that I am.

It has been a painful road, but that is the nature of this life. Suffering is an aspect of being human that comes to us all. It is what we do with the pain that matters. I choose to share it, not only for mothers, fathers, siblings, and grandparents who grieve miscarried children, but for women and men who have had abortions or who are contemplating an abortion. My bringing to light the miscarriage-abortion problem is not a condemnation. I condemn no one, but I have an obligation to save women, men, and unborn babies from abortion. This obligation is not born of envy and hatred. It comes from love. I want to address two accusations from my interlocutors. First, that I am envious of women having abortions and second, that I hate abortion supporters and those who choose to have an abortion.

First, envy by its very nature will not drive a person outside of themselves in the service of others. Envy is to covet, desire, or want to take something that is not ours. It is to hold what someone else has in such a high regard, that we do damage to ourselves. We no longer see the good within us, because we want what someone else possesses. Envy is deadly for a reason. It causes us to cave in on ourselves and to focus on what we have not been given or earned. Envy steals gratitude and robs us of happiness. I do not pray at abortion clinics, Planned Parenthood in these parts, out of envy. How could I? Why would I want to share anything with a person of who I am envious?

It is true that for a woman like myself, and I know countless other women, it is difficult for us at times to be present at a clinic where women are choosing to deliberately end the lives of their own children. We live in a world where I apparently can only have one child, who I am eternally grateful for, but where millions of women who can keep a pregnancy kill their children and their own motherhood of their own free will. I wouldn’t be human if it didn’t hurt me, but I am not envious. Their children, your children, are not mine, although my husband and I would adopt them in a heartbeat. I do not have a claim to them and I know this, so I am not driven by envy. I would stay home and write angry articles and blogs, rather than go pray in front of an abortion clinic. I wouldn’t share my own suffering in the service of others, instead I would rant and rave about what I don’t have in my own life. Some of you took the sharing of my pain as complaining, but you completely misunderstood my desire to help others who suffer as I do. Reducing me to a whiner is to completely disregard my purpose and my point, and quite frankly, it is to let yourself off-the-hook in trying to understand me.

In our culture, civil public discourse has been completely abandoned. Social media has become a place for people to spew vitriol in a vile manner because it is easy to hide behind apparent anonymity on the Internet. We should know by now that nothing we do or say on the Internet is ever truly anonymous or private. This has created an environment where anyone who disagrees with us automatically hates the other person or a group of people. This is a way to discard, discredit, or label a person. More often than not, however, this charge is false and it betrays the accuser’s own anger and inability to listen to opposing viewpoints. In the case of someone like myself–and the vast majority of those who pray diligently in front of abortion clinics, provide resources or time to crisis pregnancy centers, who gather items for poor women in crisis pregnancies, or who even write or speak on this topic–it is to confuse hatred and love.

Like envy, hatred does not drive us outside of ourselves. If we choose to publicly unleash our hatred on a particular issue, our message is automatically ineffective and revealed for what it truly is: An impotent clanging gong. Hatred is not accompanied by charity. Hatred is not sustaining and it consumes us, not the people we are trying to attack. I do not hate you. I honestly do not hate anyone, not even terrorists, and I saw the horrors of 9-11 in person as a relief worker. Hatred destroys us and I know that, so I do not fall for that trap. No, I love you, your baby, the father of the baby, and your family and friends. I don’t stop to ask whether or not that love is deserved. I love the people who have screamed at me. When I pray at the local Planned Parenthood the sign I hold is one I made and it says “You and your baby are loved beyond measure” and my daughter holds a picture of Our Lady of Perpetual Help holding the baby Jesus. I am not there to condemn you, but to be a loving and peaceful presence during a time of fear and confusion.

Love is not a feeling. Feelings may accompany love, but love in itself is not a feeling. Feelings are fleeting and change from moment-to-moment. Love is to will the good of another. It is to desire the genuine good for someone else and to go outside of ourselves in the service of that good. My miscarriages have taught me the deepest compassion and love for women seeking an abortion. It may seem “logical” to the culture for my pain to turn to hatred and envy, but it has not. The opposite has occurred. My pain has been transformed into a deep desire to help those women I see walking in and out of Planned Parenthood in my community.

As I said, love is to desire the good of another. That means my desire in love, the reason I am in front of our abortion clinic, is because I want those women to know that fear does not have the ultimate say. Whether it is fear of poverty, motherhood, dropping out of school, anger from family and friends, pressure from the boyfriend, husband, or parents, fear of medical conditions or whatever it is driving that choice, we all have the ability and courage to stand up to fear and pain. What is lost in choosing an abortion is tremendous. It is not only the loss of a child, your child, it is the loss of motherhood. It is a loss of the greatest opportunity to love and be loved.

Motherhood transforms a woman into the greatest person she can be, whether it is through biological, adoptive, foster, or even spiritual motherhood, for those women who cannot have children, those who have chosen chastity in the service of God, and those women who serve children in a variety of ways. In having children, our lives move away from being so much about ourselves, and they are changed into the service of another. This may sound daunting and burdensome, but we were made to and for love. In truth, the more we give of ourselves, the more we receive in return. There is a profound joy in motherhood that cannot be attained anywhere else. We only have to be open to love, sacrifice, pain, and joy.

I would never say that choosing motherhood is easy. It is not. It comes with tremendous sacrifice. There is nothing that has taught me more about my selfish nature, a nature we all have, than motherhood and marriage. Yes, my career path changed drastically when I became a mother. I did a lot in my Twenties. I served in naval intelligence, went to college, interned at The Heritage Foundation, lived in Europe, and the world was my oyster, but even with all of my accomplishments I knew that I wanted something more. My daughter is that more.

My daughter is greater than anything else I have ever done or been given. She teaches me daily in the art of wonder, beauty, self-sacrifice, and innocence. There is nothing in this world like hearing someone call you “Mommy” and in hearing your child tell you they love you each day. It is this joy, mingled with immense suffering through the four babies I have lost in miscarriage, that drives the compassion inside of me to pray at abortion clinics, collect supplies for women in need, and write about this topic knowing that I will be attacked for my honesty.

I know what lost motherhood feels like. I know what it is to lose an unborn child. I also know the abundant love of motherhood. No, I don’t hate you or envy you: I love you. I know that love can seem unbearable, unwanted, or burdensome. At the deepest level of our existence, we are made for love, genuine love, and that is what I am doing at Planned Parenthood and in my writing alongside the countless others striving to build a Culture of Life. I am striving, imperfect as I am, to will the good of another.

Why I Stopped Engaging the Comboxes on My Miscarriage Pieces

I survived my first major secular publication, and I mean, literally survived. I knew sharing my miscarriage experiences and framing it within the abortion war raging in our culture would unleash fury. I’ve been serving in front of Planned Parenthood and on pro-life committees in enough parishes and areas to know how abortion divides and how it brings out a great deal of depravity and hatred. To share honestly about miscarriage, is to automatically step onto the battlefield of abortion. Miscarriage implicates abortion by its very nature.

I genuinely enjoy good discourse. My parents were college debate partners and I was a debater and debate coach at one time. I experience great joy in intellectual discussions. I’ve also worked briefly in politics as an intern at The Heritage Foundation and now find myself in more theological circles, but discourse is a natural part of these environments.

The problem with Internet comboxes is they are devoid of true discourse. They turn into yelling matches from the get go and it is impossible to engage in a debate with someone who shifts the argument to fit their desires. It is even less possible with those who are blinded by pure hatred. There is no common ground with a person who thinks that it is a mother’s right to kill her child because the baby is in her body and purely because she “feels” like it. It is very difficult to reach people who are so turned in on themselves and trapped in that level of selfishness. It requires prayer and fasting on our part, quite frankly. It also requires a great deal of compassion, which has to be expressed in person and cannot be fully appreciated in the fighting of Internet comboxes. That’s why we pray at Planned Parenthood.

We are well past the clump of cells argument. The abortion industry realized that fight was lost with the advent of transvaginal ultrasound technology, which can detect a heartbeat shortly after conception. The real fight is about whether or not a mother has a right to murder her child. The abortion industry is out in the open and the ugly truth is that so many people have given into the nihilist lies of the last two centuries that they believe they have a right to kill their unborn child. There are a few who cling to the fetus (which in Latin means unborn, this has of course shifted overtime, due to the abortion agenda) is not a person, but by and large, people are fully conscious that they are ending their child’s life. They may not admit it publicly, or even fully to themselves, but what we have now is a group of people who think that whatever I want, I have a right to do, even murder. We are now in an age of self-worship where the false gods are not the sun or the moon, but are in fact, ourselves.

What’s more is that people are so entrenched in their ideology, or grappling with their own guilt from a past abortion, that a grieving mother is seen as “offensive” or “disgusting”. When asked what exactly a “fetus” is, nobody can seem to answer except to say a potential human. How does that change the unborn into something other than a human being? When is full potential realized and the “fetus” turned into a human being? They will not come out a moose, water buffalo, or Labrador Retriever. They will, and are a human baby, with all of the DNA to prove that point from the moment of conception.

We need to be careful. The potentiality argument is the most dangerous one to evolve within the pro-abortion movement. If that is the argument, what makes a full human? People like Peter Singer say it is someone who is over two years of age, so that means two year old’s should be freely exterminated by their parents. We are only beginning to see the true, radical, and horrible reality of abortion out in the light. Satan is  more brazen these days because so many have walked away from the Faith and into his lies. The real agenda is full on infanticide and the extermination of anyone who is not seen as “fit” by the powerful. This isn’t conspiracy theory, this is reality. This is nihilism: Will to power and might makes right.

It is impossible to discuss a topic that is based entirely on one’s own feelings. I ran into this the couple of times when I tried to engage with a person. Everything is contingent on me. If everything is based on how I feel then I have the right to go carte blanche and do whatever I want. I tried to explain this argument to no avail.  The reality is that comboxes are places for people to level vitriol at one another. They think because they have anonymity to a certain extent, that they can say the most vile and offensive things to a complete stranger. I have written about this problem before.

Writers take a good deal of risk every time they publish. There is always somebody who is offended even at the most innocuous of blogs or articles. When you step into an arena that is wholly uncivil and unjust it becomes clear that discussion will go nowhere, which is why I stopped reading the comments on my latest piece for The Federalist once they surpassed 15. My husband read them last night with great humor, but was astonished at the lack of intelligent discussion. He saw the same thing as me: Satan’s trick of turning woman away from God, herself, and man. Abortion is the continuation of Satan and Eve at the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The temptation has always been God-like power and now women have power over life and death and it is intoxicating and enslaving. My husband is not one to read comboxes, and by and large, I stopped responding when I started getting hate mail or nasty comments over at Catholic Exchange, but he was strangely fascinated by the train wreck on my latest article.

The unfortunate reality is that I was wasting my time, energy, and breath trying to respond to people who cannot understand me, let alone themselves. It takes a certain kind of person to write hate mail to a grieving mother. All I can do is write and pray for the conversion of souls. I pray for each one of those people who launched terrible words my way and I will continue to do so, but I won’t fight with them. In fact, it says much more about the author of the email or comment than it does about me. I can handle the hatred and vitriol sent my way, but I am certainly not going to waste my time engaging with people whose only interest is revenge or self-gratification in attacking a woman who loves all life from conception to natural death.

As a Christian, I am reminded of the demonic forces always at work and I see the great dangers of the mob mentality, even on the Internet. Don’t expect to see me debating in comboxes again anytime soon. I write. People either like my work, hate it, are apathetic about it,  or it helps them. That’s all I can ask for as a writer. My hope is to touch the lives of those God wants to touch through  my work. I have been blessed by all of the emails and comments from people suffering or who have suffered as I do.That is the greatest blessing of all. Pax Christi.

Thank YOU for Sharing Your Stories

In the past week, I have received more emails and comments from readers than I have in the last year and a half as a regular contributor at Catholic Exchange and in my years as a blogger. People from all over the world have written to me about their experiences with miscarriage. More often than not, these families have suffered grief in silence and not even shared it with family members. Most of them felt like they had to keep their pain to themselves. A good many of these people are Catholics; members of the Church that tells us to be open to life and to celebrate each life, and yet, so many suffer in private.

I am not entirely sure why this miscarriage unleashed a fury of writing inside of me. I have barely been able to stop since I learned that I lost my baby, Andrew, two weeks ago. If I am not blogging or writing articles for other websites, then I am writing pages upon pages in my journal. It’s as if the pressure of so much loss and pain has been released and it is coming out at an astounding rate. In sharing my own agony, I have been able to share in yours. Thank you for your courage to write to me or even to write public comments in an arena that is often unjust, uncivil, and insensitive.

What all of this has revealed to me is that there is a serious disconnect going on in our culture, and at times, within the Church when it comes to miscarriage. As I wrote at The Federalist today, abortion has a major part to play in this problem. Since unborn life has been dehumanized and discarded within our culture, miscarriage is not recognized as the loss of a human being. The families who have experienced miscarriage, and who have not been blinded by the ideology of abortion, know they have lost a child. The problem is, that when the loss occurs, they feel that they have no one to turn to, not even the Church.

I don’t have all of the answers to this complex issue, but I am trying to find as many of them as I can. I, and a few other brave writers, have identified this issue and are trying to bring it to light. It will be a process. In sharing the pain of miscarriage, we are automatically stepping onto the battlefield within our culture over the dignity of the human person. In sharing our own stories, we will be attacked by those who hold abortion to be sacred, and it is a religion for some. It is this assault that I fear has kept so many people silent. No more.

The lives of our babies are precious, unique, and beautiful. We have every right to mourn their passing and the loss of motherhood and fatherhood here on earth. We will live the rest of our lives wondering who our sons and daughters would have become, while hoping to meet them someday before the Beatific Vision. The hope of eternity does not mean we do not suffer and ache because of the death of our unborn children. Death is a product of the Fall and not a part of God’s original design and desires for us. That means death is painful. It is painful in losing someone and it is painful in that it will come to each one of us eventually.

I will continue to write on this issue and to clarify the abortion-miscarriage connection. I also want to advocate for those who have experienced miscarriage and recurrent miscarriage in any way I possibly can. I want families to know that they are not alone and grieving over a lost child to miscarriage is completely natural and warranted. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. This is a journey. I don’t know where it will lead. That is up to God. I am still in the throes of grief myself, but I am trying, granted imperfectly, to use my pain for good.

Thank you to all of you who have shared your stories with me. I am sorry that I haven’t been able to respond to all of you individually. Part of that is because my own grief makes it difficult for me to write everyone back at this time, but I do hope to respond in time. All of your emails and comments are read. I briefly engaged a few naysayers at The Federalist today and was able to maintain a good sense of humor and a level head in the face of great ignorance and insensitivity. That must be God’s grace, because my grief should have warranted a different response. I guess I realize that in my walking onto the battlefield, I have to learn to deflect such attacks without emotion. The problem is that our culture cannot engage in reasoned discourse, so all arguments are seen as emotional. Engaging while grieving is definitely a test of mettle and patience. It is the perfect learning ground. I study philosophy and theology regularly and as a formal graduate student. I have the tools at my disposal to focus on reason over emotion and I want to keep it that way, even when truly hateful things are leveled my way. Above all, prayer for conversion is key. God bless all of you.

The Federalist: Our Abortion Culture Steals the Grief of Miscarriage

Miscarriage comes with deep anguish and grief. I know, because I have just suffered my fourth. Those of us who have experienced a miscarriage, or recurrent miscarriage, largely grieve in the shadows or behind closed doors. We live in a culture that tells us we have not lost a child, but a blob of tissue.

The inconvenient fact is that a mother knows better. We can cover it up. We can veil the truth in secrecy, but ask any mother or father who has lost a child to miscarriage, and they will tell you they lost a child.
On our wedding day we cannot foresee the profound suffering any of us will experience in our married lives. It doesn’t occur to most men and women that they may lose a child, or many children. There is little talk of infertility, hormone issues, or genetic incompatibilities. When a family decides to begin having children, few immediately anticipate that any children conceived could die.

My first miscarriage happened four months after I married. My husband and I went in for our first ultrasound to check our child’s heartbeat. There was a heartbeat, a strong one, but next to our daughter was another sac where her twin had died.

Vanishing Twin Syndrome, or the early miscarriage of a twin, is rather common. Our doctor informed us that transvaginal ultrasounds detect the loss of a twin in early pregnancy with greater frequency now. I was stunned. My great joy became intermingled with sorrow.

Read the rest over at The Federalist.