On Returning

You know - it's been a long time since I wrote here.

Seems to be the mantra of the on-again, off-again blogger, eh?

I know that there are people who followed this sucker back when I was trying hard to put something out into the blogosphere weekly.  There was a time I tried for daily but that was so unrealistic even I laughed at myself.

I recently found out that the title "Redefined Juliet" has been grabbed up by a theatrical ensemble trying to redefine who gets to play the role of Juliet for the masses.  When something like that happens I never know if I should be flattered or offended or a little bit of both.

It's not like I own it.  I just thought of it first.

But then again, there's nothing super new under the sun, and Shakespeare's play has been around for centuries, so the likelihood remains I'm not actually the first at anything - even this.

My life has changed so much since I last wrote here I don't even feel like I belong.

From a self-defined Christian who absolutely believed in the fires of hell I've moved into a space where I absolutely don't believe a loving God could send anyone to eternal torment.  I mean anyone.  That God loves unconditionally.  Eternally.  Forever.  I realize in some circles this makes me a heretic.  That's okay, because I'm a bit queer myself and most of my closest friends are gay.  I don't know what I really think about monogamy anymore in a world made with so much Love.  I live in a place that is finally accepting me and my art and exactly who I am is almost mainstream.  I've had a lot of hard discussions with a lot of wonderful people.  I've cried in front of people who are super close to me and people who are close to strangers.  I've read a lot.  I've done a lot of traveling alone.  I've gone to a lot of dive bars.  I've made a lot of art that not a lot of people see. 

But what is this space about, if not about the constant cycle of redefinition?  Of being Oneself?  Of connecting with the Eternal.  Nothing, eh?  Nothing at all.

Right now I'm reading Amanda Palmer's book: The Art of Asking.  It's great.  And inspiring. 

I've been inspired by a lot of things lately.  Burlesque shows and teaching artists and vaudeville and 1970's punk rock.  I got a mohawk on a whim at a fundraiser for my favorite theatre company.  My nails have been black for two weeks and it's pretty freaking great.  I feel like...  things are actually starting to make sense for me as a human.  And the things that don't make sense really shouldn't. 

I'm directing for actual money.

Tonight I'm going to my second acting class since 2001. 

Sometimes I'm the teacher.  Sometimes the student. 

I'm allowed to still be learning.

I've brushed off my old piano books and I'm playing.  Actually playing again.  Classical music mostly, but trying desperately to figure out other ways to play.

I don't know why I feel the need to write this out into the Universe for you.

I continue to believe that God is Good.  I continue to be a follower of Jesus. 

I continue to be frustrated when people don't understand how that could be true for someone who thinks abortion is sometimes necessary and gay love is real love and black fingernail polish and Dungeons and Dragons are things with which our children should be allowed to play. 

Sometimes I feel like I don't know what anything means.  And you know what?  That's okay.  That's okay.

I never finished my series on the Sermon on the Mount and the Beattitudes.  I suppose at some point I will come back to it, as the whole things is still so dear to my heart.  But for now...  expect some changes if I ever choose to write again.  Expect some change.

On unwanted pregnancy.

First of all - let me say that this post is not about those who have been raped.  This is about something consensual that ends up in something unplanned.

My husband and I have always planned on having children.

We had grand plans about how our lives would pan out.

We would move to Maryland and I would take a teaching job (check).  He would work at random jobs until he could find work as a lighting designer in DC, and then we would move back to PA as soon as I had enough experience to do so.  Or we would move to the city (any city) after he made a name for himself as an LD and we'd follow his career.  After all of that (we estimated a five year plan), we would think about having kids.

We knew for sure we wanted to wait five years before even thinking about having kids.

So I was on the pill, and we were married, and all was well.

Then there was this one time where we were in a show and it was tech week and we were incredibly busy and we didn't get my prescription filled when we should.  Not sure if I missed one pill or a few pills, but I figured, I'd been on birth control for years due to some messed up stuff with my monthly cycle, so surely there would be some residual effect for that one or two days that I missed taking the pill.  I got back on birth control asap and went on about my life.

Sometime in January, I found out I was pregnant.

I was devastated.

I think that's an accurate description.

This was not something that I wanted.  I had just started my career.  We had been married seven months.  My husband was teaching at a middle school in Virginia.  Not where we wanted to be at that time, really, but we needed the extra income (or so we thought at the time).  I had no idea how to care for a baby.  I hadn't even liked babysitting older kids all that much as a teenager - it was more of an obligation than something I enjoyed doing.  We had just re-arranged the house so that my husband and I each had our own office with huge desks, our own spaces for being.  What in the WORLD were we going to do with a baby.

I didn't want it.

It didn't help that the entire first trimester I was throwing up pretty much constantly - keeping only Saltines and sips of water down for longer than two minutes or so.  It was tough to even get anything else past my nose.  I threw up in class.  I had a dizzy spell where I had to be sent home.

Being pregnant was NOT fun.  Re-thinking everything about my life was NOT fun.  I could not imagine how I could continue doing the things I wanted to do - the things I thought made me who I was.  Everything was going to end.  Doing theatre together with my husband was most certainly over.

I was angry and frustrated and on top of all of that I had a lot of shame.

You don't just roll over and decide that once you get married it's suddenly okay to get pregnant.  You've spent all of your teenage years avoiding it and scared of it because you know if you get pregnant you're going to be disowned.  Now it's okay?  Now I'm supposed to be happy?

There was a lot of private guilt.

Why couldn't I be happy about this baby?

Why did I have to feel so afraid?

What was going to happen?

How badly, really, was labor going to hurt?

What were the chances of dying in the process?

And at the same time, worrying if the baby was okay.  If I was eating the right things.  If I was doing the right things.  Guilt about how my negative feelings might be effecting him or her.

At first it was easy for me to not think about what was happening to my body as a baby.  I wasn't showing, just puking.  I couldn't feel any movement, I just felt like junk 24/7.

I admit I still have some flashes of guilt about my feelings regarding this pregnancy.  This...unwanted pregnancy.

I never thought about having an abortion, because I had decided I felt abortion was wrong when it came to matters of convenience.  It wasn't like I didn't know sex made babies.

I just felt cheated somehow.

There were people, friends of mine, who were TRYING to have a baby and couldn't have one.  And me.  I missed a birth control pill and now I was pregnant.  Insanity.

Eventually...once I could feel kicking, I became seriously curious about the baby.  I felt...a little different.

Yes.  My life was going to change completely.  I was terrified of labor.  I didn't know the first thing about caring for an infant - I was afraid I would break the baby if I held it...  but I was curious about this little person:

Was it a boy or a girl?  What would his or her name be?

Maybe...maybe we should start thinking about a room.

As I picked out the wallpaper and bedding my heart grew so big.  Thinking about this new life - I was scared, but now...  now excited somehow too.

When the gender didn't show up on the sonogram we went to have a 4D one done.  I HAD to know.  We picked out names.

And he was a boy.

And his name would be Jonah Thomas.  Jonah after "Jonas" in The Giver, who saw the reality of the world and understood the world's pain, and still wanted to be free from the false world around him.  Wanted the truth, even if it was painful.  Wanted to feel emotion and love and to touch snow.  Thomas after my grandfather who had recently passed to the next world.

In the first days after he was born I was so afraid of breaking him.  So afraid of messing up.  So afraid of hurting him or doing or saying the wrong thing.  Holding him wrong.  Feeding him wrong.  But I managed.

Still a skeptic about motherhood, feeling like everything I wanted for my life had been taken away, and guilty about feeling that way, I got up for a middle-of-the-night feeding.

Jonah was crying.  Hungry.

I warmed a bottle and went into his room.  Wallpaper I had chosen.  Clouds and sky on the wall and ceiling my husband had painted.  Little toys and blankets.  I pulled him out of his crib and fed him the bottle.  He was warm in my arms and staring up at me.  I loved him so much.  I realized I had loved him so much from the beginning - that all that shame and horror and worry was me and selfish and mostly just fear about my own ability to take on such a massive responsibility.

After the bottle I put him down on the throw rug (shaped like a turtle) on his floor.  It was quilted and soft... and I pulled out my violin.

I hadn't felt I was able to practice since we'd been home from the hospital.

It was around three in the morning.

I pulled out my violin and my music and I played for that little boy lying there, staring up at me on the turtle rug.

I think about that night often now.  About how my art and my love for my child entangled in that warm and beautiful moment.  About how yes, my life was changing but perhaps...  and now I know it for sure...  for the better.

I cannot imagine life without my son, and I don't want to.

Last night at The Refinery we were talking about Joseph, and how he had a decision to make about Mary.  He could divorce her quietly - send her away to relatives to have the baby.  He could have her stoned for adultery.  Or he could marry her - believe what the angel said about the origins of this child inside her.  Joseph chose to listen to the angel.

And what of Mary?  Her choice?

The angel said - this is going to happen and how do you feel about that?  And Mary said YES.  In spite of a culture of shame.  In spite of her fears.  And her answer changed the world.

I guess it felt like that for me.

I have this son.  He's six years old.

I could have said no.  I could have run away screaming.  I could have terminated the pregnancy.  But he is the JOY of my LIFE!

I know that my unwanted pregnancy was an easy one.

I have an amazing husband who supports me in everything and who was there for me through the whole ordeal.

Lots of unwanted pregnancies happen under very different circumstances than mine.  Lots of women are alone.  We make these choices and then we end up in a place we never thought we'd be.  Not every guy is like Joseph.  Some are, sure - but some aren't.

This isn't supposed to be some anti-abortion post.  I guess it is one.  But I don't want to add more shame to anyone's plate.  We've all got enough of that.  For me this is a post about hope.

About looking at a situation and trying to see that even if we can't imagine the good, there CAN be good.  That pregnancy is scary.  And motherhood is intimidating.  But a baby is...  a miracle.  A magic thing.  When you thought all of the love was drained from your fragile heart - how it can swell at the sight of your child - this is a miracle.

To all you single moms out there - my hat is off to you.  You are true heroes.

To all you guys out there who chose to stay when the going got tough - good on ya.  You are a man of courage.

To all you women who are scared out of their minds right now and have no idea what you're doing or what you should do - and babies seem the farthest thing from happy you could imagine - think about that night I had with my little son and my violin, and know that so MUCH is possible.

My heart goes out to you all.

Love.

Crosses at the Side of the Road: Update

Almost a year ago, you were given this post , which included some of my thoughts on the local church's publicity regarding abortion.  In response to that post, I received comments stating that I should definitely pen a letter to the church where I saw the crosses explaining my viewpoint as to why I thought they were unnecessary and yes, unloving.

So...I wrote a letter to the Immaculate Heart of Mary Roman Catholic Church, who was displaying the crosses at the time, explaining my feelings and asking them to please consider removing the crosses.  I asked that if they wished to proclaim their stance on abortion and be loving to the mothers with unwanted pregnancies, it would be really much more appropriate if they displayed a sign explaining how those moms could get help, counseling, supplies, and support - instead of just making them feel horrible for considering abortion.

Yesterday, as I was driving past that very church, I noticed that instead of the crosses, there was a billboard for the CareNet Pregnancy Center with a phone number to call.  It's a local Pregnancy Center that helps moms get counseling and support and supplies for their babies and aids them in getting through the crisis that exists for them when they have to tell someone who might not be so happy with them.

I don't know if my letter to the church had anything to do with the posting of the sign, but I'm glad to drive by and see something positive, instead of something foreboding.  Thanks, IHofM.  Thanks from scared new moms everywhere. 

By the way - if you're pregnant and scared - don't know who to turn to, terrified to tell mom and dad, don't know what it means, feel like your life is over, think your only option is abortion, are broke, jobless, the boy ran off, or all of the above, please call the CareNet Pregnancy Center.  They have a lot of people there who can help.  Who know what it feels like to be where you are.

They have a 24 hour hotline that you can reach from anywhere in the United States:  800.395.HELP (4357)

Know your options.  Get some REAL answers.

If you've had an abortion and feel alone and want someone to talk to - someone who won't judge you, who will help you through, CareNet can help you as well.  Just call, walk in to one of their offices, or check out their page on the internet.  It's a great organization and the people there are trained, helpful, non-judgmental, and KIND.

Crosses at the side of the road.

Several times a year, I'm not sure the official occasions, but several times a year, different Catholic Churches in our area post hundreds of crosses outside near the main drag with American flags and signs about how many children are "killed by choice".

Just to put it out there up front, when we're talking strictly politics, I am pro-life. I know that there are all kinds of horrifying circumstances under which pro-choice folks would say that I was being an unmerciful and complete jerk, but after have my own child (the first one) I finally understood the miracle of birth, of life, and I realized that killing an unborn child was just wrong, period. Before that, I was pro-choice in certain circumstances - like rape, for example. I will say that I have a lot of nuancy little beliefs regarding circumstances like that - or incest, things like this - but let's just say for the sake of argument right now that I'm totally pro-life.

A few years ago I always felt a sort of righteousness about those crosses standing at the side of the road. I always thought they carried some kind of important message to those unwed mothers who were thinking of getting an abortion for the sake of convenience or because they were afraid their parents would be upset. That should teach them - or something.

But lately I've realized that the approach of bumper stickers and roadside crosses is really the totally wrong approach.

I find several things interesting about the particular display I've been passing taking my son to school this week.

The first thing is that there is no sign accompanying this display for a help line or something else for women considering abortion. Just this morbid display.

The second thing (and then I'll stop because there's a lot more to address) that I notice is that accompanying these crosses are a bunch of American flags. I'm not sure what message this is supposed to send - like - Americans are evil? Or Americans are the people the message is for? Or Americans are the ones who have killed all of these unborn children? Or is it supposed to be some symbol of patriotism? No idea. I think it makes zero sense. Either way abortion is an international deal. Also, if it's supposed to make me feel all patriotic and like it's my duty as an American citizen to be pro-life, then maybe they should have some stuff about war there as well. I'm sure THAT would go over well in an area supported by a Naval Base - but really? War causes the death of thousands as well. Where's their statement on that? Oh wait, the pro-life stance also has to be the republican stance, which is generally pro-war. Not saying how I feel on that issue really, but I do see an issue with the juxtaposition of statements.

Also, I remember when I was pregnant with my first child. There was an element of shame accompanying that. I've spoken about this before. We are trained as young women that getting pregnant is pretty much the worst thing that could befall us as a result of our sexual actions. The shame didn't go away for me just because I was married. It still felt scary and like I'd done something wrong to be in the place that I was in. I admit that as a teenager if I had gotten pregnant I would have strongly considered abortion. I would've felt that anything was better than facing the shame that would be brought on my family and the disappointment I would feel from my parents - the discrimination I would feel from pretty much everyone around me - the unwed teenage mother - people would stare. People would talk. My life would generally suck. No amount of crosses along the side of the road or pro-life bumper stickers would make me feel differently.

The baby growing inside of me - even as a married mother - was remote. Especially in the first trimester. The only evidence of the little life was me vomiting and feeling generally crappy. It's not a lot of inspiration for a fifteen year old girl whose parents will probably disown her (at least that's what they've threatened) if they find out. A young girl will do ANYTHING to hide something like this when they've been brought up to feel they will be looked SO down upon, disowned, sent away, scorned, ridiculed, etc.

So perhaps, we pro-life folks should try another page in our book. One where those girls are welcomed into our homes. One where those girls are supported and taught how to care for their children and educated that pregnancy ISN'T the end of the world. There are other reasons to avoid pre-marital sex.

So maybe if we MUST place those crosses by the roadside, we could also include a cute baby picture and a phone number someone could call who is considering abortion. Maybe when we see a young girl with a swelling belly we could be kind to her, open the door and carry her bags and ask her what she's thinking of naming the little life, instead of staring blatantly and talking behind her back. Maybe we could wipe her tears and hug her instead of deciding that she is a worthless member of our society. Love trumps hate - every time. Making her feel badly for already doing something doesn't change what she's already done. More hugs, less cross displays. Thanks.