Letters to Abigail

I decided before I even gave birth to Abigail that I'd write a book. I want to call it Letters to Abigail, because my plan is for it to be a memoir of my divorce, unplanned (crisis) pregnancy, and the domino effect of the decisions I made in the most significant year of my life, which all surround my choice to keep her. I want her to know that while I refer to the pregnancy as "crisis" or "unplanned" that she's an absolute game changer for so many lives, and that she is most definitely meant to be on this earth. Not only that, but that she improved my life by helping me grow into a person I didn't know I had the strength to be, and she's a part of why I will help other women find peace in their struggles- when absolutely everything seems to be crumbling around them.

I took a hiatus from the blog and very subtly alluded to an unplanned pregnancy, or maybe just an additional struggle during my divorce. I did it because I was simply in the middle of a legal divorce, scraping to get by, and counting pennies to pay for my lawyer to actually get it completed- no joke, on the day we went to court, I had borrowed from a total of about 4 people the money to pay the retainers, and I completely depleted my savings account. If we didn't come to an agreement that day, I had no idea how I'd keep going. I was nearly 6 or 7 months pregnant by the time I actually received my final divorce decree- there was so much explaining I wanted to do, and I knew this platform wasn't appropriate at that time.

Just over 7 years ago, I used to volunteer at a pregnancy resource center in San Clemente, California. I did it to heal from a miscarriage I had at the very beginning of my marriage to Husband- in early September 2008. I was so broken and on the other side of the country from friends and family, that I tried my best to cope with my grief by channeling it into these young girls who were freaked about their crisis pregnancies.

Yes, it's a Christian organization, and obviously, we advocated for the mother and the unborn baby. But the awesome part about learning to volunteer in Southern California, was the fact that we were taught to educate. We were not taught to do anything but listen to them and tell them their options, and what each outcome may or may not look like. If they chose abortion, we prayed for them and offered our counseling services and resources for them to heal emotionally, should they need them. If they chose adoption, we helped them get in touch with agencies and learn the process, in addition to helping them learn about their physical condition as they moved through pregnancy. And if they chose to keep the pregnancy, we helped them learn about their bodies and maybe even a few beginner parenting classes (like swaddling a baby, new parent schedules, postpartum conditions, or simply lending them the book The Happiest Baby on the Block) and we provided them with essentials like car seats, clothes, diapers, good ol' butt paste- all the like.

I remember most girls who came in were younger. Some were frustrated and annoyed with their parents, just because parents were so concerned that their daughters know what they were getting into, and wanted to be heavily involved. Others were very adamant that they have the baby, when the parents were really wanting them to opt for adoption or abortion. And then there was one girl in particular, who chose adoption because she knew the baby's father wouldn't be involved. I saw her eyes light up when she chose a private adoption and told me about the family and how excited she was to be placing her child with them. Her mother was so torn up, ready to raise that grand baby in spite of her daughter's wishes, but this 17 year old girl blew my mind with her generosity and wisdom. I had a newfound love and respect for what I was able to do- to be a part of an organization that made it possible for girls to be supported in their decisions in such a crazy and scary time- regardless of what they chose.

But as happy as I was to be on the volunteering side- I just never pictured my newlywed self with a crisis pregnancy. I mean, I was already married. The worst that could happen was that I miscarry, which I had already experienced, so I'd always be behind the desk at a resource center... right?

Ha. One thing I learned last year was that unplanned pregnancies do not discriminate. High school girls, college athletes on a scholarship, doctors, lawyers, and... me... somewhere in between having a lot to learn and having a lot to lose.

After Husband and I separated, I was adamant that I show myself that my romantic life was no where near over. I wanted to "fake it 'til I made it" and smile while I sipped on some hipster local craft beer, with fresh makeup and a cute outfit on, at almost any local bar. I didn't really want to search for a life partner, or even a sexual partner. I just wanted to hear someone call me pretty. I wanted to know that as a single mom, I still had something about me that other men found attractive, and that when I was ready to date that it'd all be just fine. Better than fine. Maybe it could even be exciting?! Who knew?! I just needed to know it'd all be ok, and this was one of the ways I tried to force it to be okay. It was all I knew to do for a quick (albeit, fleeting) affirmation those days.

I also saw it as an opportunity to get off work, disconnect, and not think about my issues. I could either run into girlfriends (which I often did) or I could have a couple drinks and just quell my anxiety about the fact that my life was turned on its head. Sometimes I needed to get out and feel attractive and know that there were other fish in the sea. I was terrified I would cave into Husband's statements about me not being loyal and that I had given up on my family. I feared that I'd never be brave enough to stand my ground and continue to ask for what I wanted, knowing time and again, he refused. I had set my boundaries, and now I had to stay motivated to stick to them. Going out and looking forward to friends, a buzz, and attention was how I met that need.

And that's really the beginning of 2015, the best worst year of my life. The year I'd never take for granted. The year of the most painful and costly education I'd receive to date. The year that began with the death of my marriage and ended with the birth of sweet Abigail.