Oct

19

Hoteliers

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October 19, 2006

To those of you who commented on my last post, thank you so much for sharing such thought-provoking, respectful points of view. I feel like that conversation actually changed my perspective on the whole difficult subject, in a good way. A broadened way. That’s some pretty awesome blog-post fallout, you know? So: thank you.

:::

We had friends stay with us last night, a couple we’ve known for years who recently spent 12 months traveling around the world. They started in New Zealand, moved on to Asia, and then went to Africa before coming back home. I thought it might be awkward to spend time together, I thought that compared to traveling the Kalahari in a Land Rover and camping in Thailand the life we’ve been living for the last year would seem excruciatingly boring.

I mean, they’ve been doing this. And seeing things like this. While we’ve been, uh, changing a lot of diapers.

But of course we are all living rich and interesting lives in our own way, and they seemed as excited by Riley’s development (and even the progress on our remodel, which was awfully damn nice of them to care about being as how I personally find the subject about as thrilling as, say, watching drywall dry) as we were in their travel experiences.

The last time they visited was over a year ago when Riley was a tiny little suctopus who brought all conversation to a startled halt when he turbo-horked a geyser of milk all over the sofa, floor, and JB’s lap. This time I thought he would be infinitely more charming, but whether it was end-of-day weariness, the stimulation of having new people around (and their massive, friendly Golden Retriever), the alignment of the planets, or some combination thereof, Riley basically morphed into a human spider monkey whose temperament veered dizzily from Cackling with Insane Glee to Howling in Great Sorrow while he clambered around falling into things because he was too hyper to keep his freaking balance.

If this couple decides against having children, I think we’ll all know who’s to blame, is what I’m saying.

Tonight JB’s parents are coming to stay for a couple days, which certainly brings up the monthly average of our bed-and-breakfast hosting activities. I’m hoping their presence will allow JB and I to escape for a while on Friday or Saturday night; maybe see a movie, or eat a meal that doesn’t involve being anywhere near those godforsaken Gerber “Pasta Pickups”.

I’m guessing our weekend will involve lots of sitting around and talking, marveling over the grandchild, and if the weather cooperates, some park-walks or geocache outings. I know it’s only Thursday, but indulge me again, won’t you? – (and give me something to read when I sneak away from all the festive family bonding to the computer) – what are you doing this weekend?

Oct

17

This complicated life

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October 17, 2006

Hey, let’s talk about abortion and religion!

(Wait, where are you going?)

Two things:

1. JB and I went to the Bodies exhibit a couple weeks ago. I highly recommend checking it out if it’s in your city, the specimens are truly amazing and give you a unique chance to appreciate the fascinating machinery under your skin.

One section of the exhibit is devoted to fetal development, and it includes many actual fetus specimens floating, ghostlike, in their containers. You can choose to bypass this room; I imagine it would upsetting to some people. There are heartbreaking examples of birth defects which are particularly difficult to view.

Most intriguing to me was the area depicting gestation week by week, from chorionic sac to embryo to 32 weeks in development. In the first couple weeks you see what you might expect: a tiny blob of cells. By five weeks it takes on the form of a living creature, preliminary arms and legs are there.

The eighth week specimen was so perfectly formed it took my breath away. Fingers. Toes. Eyes. I can’t explain it, except to say it’s one thing to see photos of this stage, and it’s something else entirely to see the actual body from all angles.

I have felt differently about abortion since Riley, which is not to say I have changed my pro-choice stance entirely, but rather that the subject feels much more emotionally charged. It is now difficult for me to be objective or clinical about a process that prevents a viable baby from being born.

I had an abortion when I was a teenager, which I hope is not such an intimate confession it will make you feel uncomfortable – it’s just the truth. I was maybe eighteen and was in no position to feel anything but an overwhelming desire to end the pregnancy. I have no lingering sorrows over that choice. At the time I was incredibly relieved to have the option available to me.

When I think about abortion now, my mind can’t quite escape the image of that eight-week-old fetus. Fingers. Toes. I don’t know how to view it any other way than ending a life.

For my own situation, I didn’t want to have a child. I had nothing to offer a baby: no stability, no money, nothing. I believe my life took a better course for not being a teenage mother, although who can say for sure. I believe Riley would not exist today had I made a different choice back then.

But was it morally wrong? I feel less certain that I know the answer to that question.

2. I have also felt differently about religion since Riley, which is not to say I have changed my personal agnostic, uh, nonbelief system. I am more empathetic to the desire to believe, I guess. I understand that there are things in the world so glorious and good there is no better word for them than miraculous. I understand, in some small scared way, the unspeakable enormity of a child’s death, and the need to believe that this world is not our last.

I’ve been reading Anne Lamott’s Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith (which I picked up because she is a great and funny author; she also wrote Bird by Bird, one of the best books on writing I have ever had the pleasure of reading), and while I do not share Lamott’s spirituality, I find her point of view inspiring. She talks about Jesus and God and Mary and so on, but her faith is completely without judgement. She uses her faith as a supporting pair of hands, the motivation to get out of bed on a day that offers no comfort, and a reminder to love her fellow man without exception.

Her perspective is a beautiful thing to read, in my opinion. It is quite different from the ‘family values’ bullshit that is really just hatred and intolerance with a halo drawn on top.

She fundamentally lives her life by a set of what I choose to believe are mythological constructs. But her flavor of Christianity offers a moral compass I can respect and even envy.

Lamott herself believes in a woman’s right to choose, by the way. She wrote, “It is a moral necessity that we not be forced to bring children into the world for whom we cannot be responsible and adoring and present. We must not inflict life on children who will be resented; we must not inflict unwanted children on society.”

I want to support this right. I really, really do. I have many reasons for believing that women should have legal access to this procedure.

And yet. Fingers. Toes. Visceral reminders of the machinery being built, with all its potential. It’s complicated. It is more complicated for me than bumper stickerisms or yelling lunatics with signs or choices made in the name of God.

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