Propaganda May Have It's Roots In Truth Sometimes

I was musing on the way home what to blog about. There have been a few things running through my head that I wanted to mentally delve into and I was sort of composing them as I drove home (essentially to ignore the twangs happening in my back!).

The I got home and opened my post and read a letter which is blatantly propaganda, but touched me. It was one of the things I was toying with and wasn't sure if I really wanted to think about it ever again. I'd mentioned it's passing on here once and decided that that was enough. But it shouldn't be. There are things which affected me deeply and in the tradition of expressing my feelings I'm going to do so.

I know there are a couple of readers who, for them this blog may be painful, and I therefore suggest you don't read it. Not because I don't trust you with the details, but becuase I want to sheild you from being upset while at the same time releasing these issues. This is a part of my past and I need to accept that this happened and that the present is so much better. This is not meant to upset or offend, it's just something I need out of my head and into the ether. So here goes...

The letter I received was from the Society for the Protection of Unborn Children. Unbeknown to most people I am pro-life. Unless there are extreme circumstances, I do not believe that abortion is an option - if you were willing to enjoy the practice, then you should be mature enough to deal with the end result, and if you're not willing to accept the consequences, then keep it in your pants. It's not just a theory, I'm pro-life having accepted the consequences of my own actions. This is my opinion, you may disagree, but I am allowed to believe this.

In the letter was a single quote from Emma Beck, a woman from Cornwall who took her own life after being unable to deal with what she had done. The quote was her suicide note:

"I should have never had an abortion. I see now I would have been a good mum. I told everybody I didn't want to do it, even at the hospital. I was frightened, now it is too late. I died when my babies died. I want to be with my babies - they need me, no one else does."

Except instead of the shock factor that this was meant to inspire in me, what I actually did was relate entirely to what she had written. I regretted my actions, and still do. I too told everyone I could that I didn't want to do this including hospital staff. I begged and pleaded to be allowed to go home and was told I was just feeling nervous and it was probably the hormones.

Agreeing (termed loosely) to a termination not just left mental scars and horrific guilt but left physical scarring in my uterus which when I met DH caused us to lose our first conception at 7 weeks and be told I was unable to carry a child to full term if conceive at all. Proved them wrong though - even if pregnancy was a little fraught.

Let me get really quite honest here. This child that I conceived was not done so in a stable loving relationship which is the ideal, and where our two beautiful girls found themselves, however it was also not a drunken encounter. I can pinpoint the exact day of conception - I know what happened. I've already blogged about my less than wonderful ex. This particular encounter happened after a weekend where he had been clubbing. As was usual for weekends like this there had been a lot of drugs flowing and he'd partaken in all of them. I remember I'd not gone out that weekend, instead had spent the evenings visiting my friend and her boyfriend who led a much more sedate life. So after a weekend bender, there was the usual come down which generally meant a foul mood. It's not like it was a massive surprise, but something happened to spark it off and he lost his temper. Enough said. I suppose he thought it was a way of making up, but I wasn't interested and feigned sleep. By that point I used that trick more in hope than anything else. I remember distinctly saying I couldn't because I'd had antibiotics and the pill wouldn't work and being told to shut up. And spending my floating time up on the ceiling hoping that the pill would be effective.

Obviously, it wasn't. And I ended up discovering I was pregnant and it never crossed my mind that I wouldn't want the child. The downside came when breaking the news. At this point it may be worth a confession that I've not made before. I had fallen pregnant like this once before, however an argument served to remove any decision required of me. This time a choice had to be made - and it was his to make as my body was no longer my own apparently. If he didn't want it, it wasn't going to happen. Why did I not shout for help? Well, in my way I did. I told as many people as would listen I did not under any circumstances want a termination, but not why. No-one knew why I was going ahead anyway. I saw no way out of where I was and knew f I left it would be far worse. Instead, I denied that this appointment had been made and even as I was being driven there refused to accept that the doctors would let me go through with it. I was hysterical as they prepared me and begged to be let home, instead they left me in a room with him where I was 'persuaded' to return and do as I was told. I may be able to forgive him for being a violent, drug taking shit, but I will never forgive him for leaving me with this guilt.

Now the people who do know about him and the termination have said it was for the best. That bringing a child into the world in that situation would have been terrible. But how about an alternative? How about if someone had asked me without him in the room if I had free will? How about when they saw me in a gown covered in bruises below the neck, asking if perhaps I needed someone to stick up for me? Or at least asking the obvious question. How about when a year later I wrote an email to BPAS telling them how awful my experience had been, just responding. There was an alternative. If someone had just noticed, I could have asked for help.

What I have now with DH and the girls is amazing and I know maybe would never have happened without what happened in the past, so if nothing else, the good thing to come of this was for me eventually to find happiness with a wonderful man and have the chance to prove myself a worthy parent. I understand why she would want to take her own life, my difference is that I do have people here who need me, they don't lessen the guilt, but they allow me to prove myself a better person than I was back then. Maybe some of this goes to explain why I can't bear to hear either of them cry, and feel the need to randomly hold them even when they wriggle away wiping the kisses off.