The A.T.C.T.

After tonight's post, there's a possibility that I may lose some readers.

I've thought that before, and I've been wrong every time. When I wrote about Google™-ing information about my (now married) ex-girlfriend, I was certain my female readers would decry me as a stalker and flee in terror. Instead I only found support. When I wrote about my Catholicism, I thought that would not be received well by some. It's never been easy to be a person of faith at any time in history, and people are especially apprehensive given the actions some people have used their religions to justify. It hurts to be called a “quack” or a “religious nut” or any other derogatory comment, and to see the good aspects of faith lumped in with the bad. That particular post didn't result in any such comments as I feared, however. And when I dabbled in fiction and wrote a really twisted story, my readers not only didn't run, but one even gave me a trophy. There's a good chance I'm wrong once more about the reactions that may result from tonight's post, but then abortion is a somewhat more volatile subject than I normally delve into on this site.

This isn't going to be a political or religious rant. I'm not a woman. I don't have any children and I'm not married yet. I'm a Catholic. Already, I'm on shaky ground to speak on this matter. I'm not going to condemn people I disagree with, and while it would be nice if teenagers possessed the same restraint as my parents' generation and those before them, it's sadly no longer realistic. Of my friends, I only know of two guys for sure who had the strength to wait until marriage. I'm certainly not proud of my own failings in that area, and I'd be a hypocrite to condemn anyone else for being human and giving in to their desires. I do think that teenagers should not be having sex, and if they aren't mature enough to take precautions, then they're in over their heads already. Unfortunately, teenage irresponsibility isn't the only source of unwanted pregnancy, which makes the issue even more complicated. For a better debate of both sides of the issue, with both sides wavering between rational and heated due to the nature of the topic, I suggest you read here and here. I stood on the edge of that pool many times in the last few weeks, weighing whether or not to dive in. I ultimately decided not to splash around and make things worse, but here in my own pond I've decided to share one of my patented meandering MCF tales.

Having a child is something of a paradox. It seems so easy for a couple to get in “trouble”, yet there are many risks and complications for those who set out to intentionally procreate. Whether you're religious or not, our very existence IS miraculous. There are so many factors against the successful fertilization of an egg and growth of a healthy child, yet we've been reproducing and multiplying long before medicine advanced to the point it's at now. My own parents had their share of difficulty conceiving, for various reasons. An asthmatic, my mother's always been in fragile health, and I have many scary childhood memories of going with her to the emergency room during bad attacks. Once when my dad was at work and she had to rush to the hospital, I came out of school to find she had called the police to pick me up in her absence and bring me to her.

I don't know if age was a factor in their problems as well. My dad was 39 and my mom was 30 when they got married, and it is true that the risks increase with age. And of course, the medical advancements that exist today were not around when they were trying over thirty years ago. They lost a baby on more than one occasion, and my mom went through two stillbirths, both daughters. 30 years and 8 months ago, they finally had a son, their only child.

When we went to the cemetery to see my grandparents and various other relatives, there was always one plot of land in the back corner we would stop at. It was different from the rest. There were no markers or tombstones of any kind, yet people would come and leave flowers on the ground. Were my parents religious nuts for visiting the ground in which their daughters and the lost children of others were buried, or grieving individuals dealing with real, genuine loss? Their pain was real. My older sisters, no matter how short their lives, were real. It's easy to refer to unborn children at various stages of development in clinical terms, but to the mother who loves the life growing inside her, that uninterrupted and uncomplicated will continue to grow and develop, that life isn't anything else but Her Baby. I used to feel bad when I'd act up as a kid. Too late I'd see the toll it took on my mother, and I felt nothing but guilty over the fact that they tried unsuccessfully so many times and when they finally did have a child, they got ME. My mom may have even said as much in a moment of anger once when I was particularly misbehaving, but I can't recall exactly what was said.

School was rough. In first or second grade I would occasionally talk about my sisters, and the kids who knew I was an only child called me a liar. Telling them I did have sisters and they were in heaven was only met with more scorn and mockery. And so, they joined the list of things I never should have let other kids rob from me. I stopped talking about them. Of course, the kids found other things to make fun of. I've been called plenty of names in my day. Spock. Mickey Mouse. Troll. Tattoo. Eddie Munster. Dumbo. Dopey. And countless others. While I'm among the first to admit that I've never exactly been easy on the eyes, some of these names were harsh and unfounded. None of these names, however, compare to this one:

”The Abortion That Came Through.”

I'd never heard something so harsh, and it's all the more sickening looking back to realize this was coming from THIRD GRADERS. Did their parents speak of such things? Older siblings? The very fact that they knew of it was bad enough, but the implication that I shouldn't exist, that I was some thing that should not be was devastating. I never told my parents, but I asked some of my friends to explain and when I was a little older did some reading of my own on the subject. I was perhaps in seventh grade by the time biology class offered disturbing, graphic images. The phrase meanwhile faded from memory, until I was in high school. My parents pulled me out of public school and sent me to a Catholic high school thinking it would be “better”. I never disabused them of the notion that kids there would be better. It meant nothing. Parents never fully know everything their kids know and do, no matter how involved they are.

Looking back, I think the most interesting thing about the nickname is the “Came Through” part. Third graders understood what abortion was, that it meant that an individual's existence would cease. They also understood that, undeterred, a baby would emerge and grow and go to school and eventually be standing on the playground dealing with their crap. Despite this and every other hardship I've survived in my life, I honestly believe that I'm still better off than my sisters. I don't know why they died. Parents lose children all the time, it's hard to imagine anyone not wanting their child to live. I hope to someday have a wife and child or two of my own.

If you've read this much, whatever your opinions of me now may be, I thank you.