Sharpie tattoos and a betadine belly

I took a 12 week Lamaze course when I was pregnant.  I was there to learn how to refuse medical intervention and manage labor pain without anesthesia.  I read two dozen books on ways to limit medical procedures during labor and delivery.  I wrote about 15 versions of my birth plan and talked to every single doctor in my practice (7) so they knew I wanted no intervention and no medication.  This was all for one reason: I wanted to avoid major, invasive surgery that is a cesarean section.

Little did I know, just one year later, I'd be gassed, cut open in 4 places, shoved around and stitched back together.

Five Below

I hate how people only ever use the word "balmy" in a sarcastic way in the wintertime. It ain't funny no more.

Going Gray

Life is pretty funny, in a completely non-funny way.  All my life I've been about as Pro-Life, Anti-Abortion as a person could possibly be.  Without, of course, being one of those crazies who holds up signs about God hating people.  In 6th grade CCD (c. 1991) I remember making a poster, with the Virgin Mary holding her Baby Jesus and the caption: What if Mary were Pro-Choice?  I got the award, BEST PRO-LIFE POSTER IN THE HARRISBURG DIOCESE that year. I've had more than my share of ethics debates, and I never wanted to consider the outliers, the anecdotes, "What if a pregnancy is non-viable?" "What if it threatens the health of the mother?" etc.   Those stories are just meant to confuse the black-and-white moral issue.  Even through my first pregnancy and birth of my baby, I proudly powered through as one staunch Pro-Life advocate.

But for some unknown reason, here I am, today.  Personally, medically, physically in this situation that occurs less than 1% of the time, facing the exact choice myself that I used to stick my fingers in my ears to ignore.  It's a no-brainer.  I'm thankful that there are drugs which can help me survive this situation.  Knowing there was never a baby, a heartbeat, a viable life in question.  It's been eye opening.