three weeks and counting

no regrets

still bleeding on and off

did not go back for my follow up appointment today

still telling

TMI?

It is hard to believe that it has been just a week since my abortion. I saw my therapist, which while tearful, proved helpful.

Still I cannot resist posting that one of my fav blogs is contemplating the messy realities of women’s bodies and asking whether it is all TMI. Not surprisingly, as I blog my abortion, my answer is no. Truth to power as the Quakers used to say, or maybe you prefer the more contemporary, Our Bodies, Ourselves.

Anyway you put it, information is good, more information is better and there is no such thing as TMI. Women’s bodies have too long been shrouded in myths. Women need to speak their reality.

Double fail safe, or double bag it

So in the process of working my way through the abortion clinic, the staff not unreasonably queried my future birth control plans. At the time, I decided for the sake of symmetry, that my husband should get a vasectomy within the two week enforced abstinence period following the abortion [side not, in hilariously straightforward language, the post-op instructions state “do not put anything in your vagina for two weeks, including tampons, a diaphragm, douching, or sexual intercourse” as though a penis is yet another implement of feminine hygiene].

My husband dutifully made the appointment for the big V, although no openings were available within the two week window. However, since I have taken a vow of celibacy, the point seemed moot. Still I realized that I had several packs of unopened birth control pills from my last attempt to use them. Post abortion, a little nausea seemed a small price to pay for a double failsafe, as the engineers say, just in case, you know, his super swimmers miraculously managed to make it across the flannel sheets to me in the next few weeks. After that recent octuplet birth birth, I am not taking any chances.

Why I will continue to write

Many years ago, in an undergraduate women’s studies class I read Kristen Luker’s now classic Abortion and the Politics of Motherhood. Those were the hot days of the abortion wars, yet Luker’s careful nuanced analysis not of the rhetoric or of the leadership, but of the beliefs and attitudes of activists on both sides of the struggle made perfect sense to me. Luker showed that abortion is not about reproduction so much as it is about how individuals view the organization of society, the relationships between women and men, the function of religion in society, and the other beliefs that comprise what we often call a world view. Ruth Rosen, another fabulous scholar whose writings I have long admired, makes a similar point about contraception in her recent article about the exclusion of family planning funding from the economic stimulus package. It all comes down to how you define women’s primary function. Are women people just like men, or are they meant foremost to be mothers?

I have ruminated on how my blog must read to the “other side.” I do not think anything I say will change anyone’s mind, mostly because I still believe that beliefs about abortion are largely dictated by two fundamentally clashing views of the world. What I do hope is that by giving voice to one woman’s experience of abortion I can move beyond pithy slogans or religious injunctions to show the feelings and thoughts that accompany abortion. Because that is what abortion really is, a medical procedure that individual women understand in unique ways, filtered through life experiences, religious beliefs, philosophical underpinnings and all the other myriad factors that make up the way people make sense of the world. Banal generalizations and sweeping statements serve only to fan the flames of dissent.

So I have decided to continue to chronicle my abortion process. The professor in me cannot bear to let this teaching moment pass. I also think that the unfolding experience abortion is something few women have shared. There are many fine sites on which women can share their stories, but the longer process is invisible.

I already know that I am going to gradually break the silence and anonymity I have sought. As long as I hide, I will feel a sense of shame. I anticipate also that there may be moments, perhaps the monthly anniversaries, perhaps my first period, who knows, that revive the memories of my abortion.

The comment function is turned on. You cannot post anonymously. I reserve the right to eliminate any posts I find offensive. Start your own blog if you disagree :)

Day 2

I wake up full of dread, but in no pain. I focus on getting my children ready for the day and packing my bag.

I am anxious about the pain to come and I am feeling angry and resentful with my husband. We are both on edge and snap at each other. I lock myself in the bathroom to cry silently so my son will not hear me.

On the drive to the clinic, I decide I have to talk to my husband about the day before. I tell him how hard it was to absorb the intense experience. I tell how hard it was to know the exact moment my pregnancy ended and how difficult it was to go through that alone. I tell him that I am scared to go through the dilation by myself.

He is angry and scared as well. He is mad that he can’t help me, mad that he feels torn between my needs and taking care of our children.

As we drive over I realize that I am having contractions. They are not too painful, but they are frequent. I am not surprised given my medical history.

When we arrive at the clinic, there are two people waving brochures at us as we drive into the parking lot. It takes a minute for me to realize that they are anti-abortion protesters. My husband is angry and wants to confront them. They are two old people just standing there. They do not yell anything at us or try to harass us, so I tell him to calm down.

I walk in the clinic and see the head of counseling. She knows why I am there and asks if I want to come in the back to lie down where it is more comfortable. I know this means I will have to leave my husband, but since we have already decided there is little point in him waiting all day, I decide to do it now. Still I tear up as I hug him goodbye.

As I walk into the back, the counselor asks how I am feeling. I tell her I am contracting. I am brought into a room with those weird medical recliners that are ironically what they often provide for new fathers. The crying woman from the previous day is already there. She is already crying. We talk a little bit about how we are hungry. I say that I cannot believe we have to be back here without our support people and she agrees. The young woman from the day before comes in. She is obviously in pain and is completely silent. A nurse comes in and asks them some questions, but she cannot find my chart. I soon find out why. The head of counseling comes to get me. At first I do not understand. I ask if it is time for the cytotec. She explains that the doctor has decided to take me straight to the OR since I am contracting. I am relieved. I quickly text my husband. I am glad that I have pretyped the message that the surgery is about to start since I have no time before they take my bag away.

I am taken into a dressing room and given a gown, booties and a cap to put on. I am jumped to the head of the queue. I walk into the OR and see my doctor. He tells me this is the top OR staff and tells them I am a professor and advocate for the cause. While they prep me the OR nurse tells me about life before Roe and what she saw. This is why she works at the clinic a day a week. The scrub nurse tells me about the protesters when I ask about them. She says that while the clinic has escorts for the weekends, the protesters are usually these old people who are quite civil. We talk about how lucky they are not to have the awful situations that exist elsewhere.

The anesthesiologist gives me an injection and the next thing I know I am in recovery and it is 10 o’clock. I am in pain, cramping. The nurses are kind and bring me a heating pad. I call my husband to tell him I am out of surgery. Recovery is a huge room with women continually being wheeled in and walking out. The nurses offer me pain meds once they have checked my blood pressure and taken out my IV.

I walk back over to the first room where I am given a drink and some crackers. The crying woman is gone, but the young girl is still there. Obviously she is still dilating and in pain. I get dressed and wait for my husband. Women come and go and I just sort of zone out, dozing. . My husband needed to pick up my son so it takes him about an hour and fifteen minutes to get back.

In the car I take the pain pill I packed. I feel strange, relieved, exhausted, and drained. We stop for some food since I have not been able to eat. We talk a little. We had a friend to take my son for the afternoon in anticipation of a much later discharge, and we decide that since he has been looking forward to it, we will stick with that plan.

My husband and I stay in our bed all afternoon as per my recovery instructions to take it easy. He watches the new Batman movie on TV while I intermittently sleep, play on the computer and finish listening to my audiobook. I am not in any pain. By the time my children are home I feel well enough to get up and make them dinner. I give my daughter her bath. The only difficult part is the restriction to not lift anything that weighs more than ten pounds, but my husband lifts her out of the bath and into her crib later that night.

It is all oddly anticlimactic.

I am going to be fine

Tthat was my first thought this morning.

I have always been a person who dreams vividly. During difficult experiences my dreams often reflect my anxieties. I wondered if I would have dreams about my abortion, or being pregnant, or having a baby, but I have not.

I realized that it is simply going to take time for me to process this very intense experience that occurred in a relatively short amount of time.

I read a really interesting interview with Jennifer Baumgardner, feminist activist and creator of the "I had an abortion" campaign about how women continually reassess their experiences of abortion at different stages of their lives. That seems right to me based on my experience of miscarriage. At each subsequent pregnancy and then birth, the miscarriage carried different weight for me.

Other than some awful gas pains late last night, I feel fine. I have almost no bleeding at all and no pain. I will take an pill with me to school in case I start to cramp again, but as of right now I feel perfectly normal. The most difficult part is the weight lifting limitation since my two year old still likes to be picked up.

breathe

Just got off the phone with my sister. It helped so much to talk to someone who has also experienced an abortion.

I wish every woman had someone close the her with whom she could share her feelings about her abortion, but the reality is that some women have no one.

A wonderful service exists however to serves women who have abortions, and their partners, friends and family. Exhale respects the cultural, social and religious beliefs of all our callers. All calls are confidential.

Call Exhale to talk freely about your experience with abortion.

1-866-4 EXHALE (1-866-439–4253)

Monday – Friday:
5 p.m. – 10 p.m. Pacific
Saturday – Sunday:
12 p.m. – 10 p.m. Pacific

The Hardest Part

The counselor at a clinic is always the sort of job I hope my students will get and indeed this woman was a women’s studies minor. She is wonderful, training an intern, so I dutifully answer all the questions. She then walks me through what will happen next. She tells me that tomorrow I will be giving cytotec, ironically the drug in both the abortion pill as well as the drug used to induce labor in pregnant women. She warns me that it can be quite painful, cause nausea or the shakes. The worst part is that in a clinic setting, you cannot take a support person back with you, so I will be alone during this experience, which can take up to four hours.

I am aware that the two day procedure involves the slow, gradual dilation of the cervix to about 2 cm and that before I leave today sea sponges will be placed in my cervix to begin dilation. However, What she tells me next is sort of surprising. She tells me that the shot of digoxin to stop the fetal heart will happen today. While I knew this would happen, I thought it occurred in the OR immediately prior to the abortion. I admit to being somewhat startled. My husband has returned home to pick up our children since the appointments have run so late. There will be no one there to hold my hand at the moment this pregnancy ends. It is a sobering thought, to know the exact moment, but perhaps that is how it should be.

The insertion of the laminaria is painful. No point in elaborating, but painful is accurate. Immediately menstrual type cramps begin. I am barely aware of the quick shot through to the amniotic sac. I am grateful for the distraction, but also happy that before the sonographer and the physician came into the room, I had taken a moment to say goodbye to this pregnancy that I had know for only 12 days. I thought I might share here exactly what I said, but I think I will keep that private for myself.

After that I return to the waiting room for my husband to return. I am now in constant pain. It is not awful, like bad period cramps, but definitely not comfortable.

The ride home feels long and I am grateful that our car has heated seats. I take a pain pill as soon as I get in the car. I am relieved that I had the foresight to put one in the car from an older prescription.

When I get home, I use the techniques they teach you for early labor. I turn on the heating pad and head for a shower. I let the hot water hit the small of my back for a long while. I then curl up in bed with the heating pad. It takes about six hours for the cramping to stop. About four hours in, I take another pain pill.

In the meantime, my husband cares for my children. After they are in bed he goes out to meet students, pick up my antibiotics, and get dinner for himself. I stay awake until almost midnight, drinking as much water as I can, and to take one last pain pill.

Miraculously I manage to sleep on and off throughout the night. I am not plagued by nightmares, but I am definitely restless.

Day 1 The Waiting Room

When I arrive I cannot believe how crowded it is; young women mostly, many African American. Some wait with friends, others with boyfriends, a few with their mothers, which heartens me. I am closer to the age of most of the mothers and I am insanely grateful that it is me undergoing this procedure, not my daughter.

I am taken into the back for an ultrasound. It becomes clear how exceptional my case is when the physician is called in to look at the images. He is a wonderful man, calm, competent and clearly an advocate of a woman’s right to choose. I like him immensely and we have a great conversation about what an eye opener this experience has been to me as a professor, a life long feminist and pro-choice activist. He treats me with dignity and as if I have the intelligence to make my own decisions.

My gestational dates are further than I thought. I suppose what I took for a period one month must not have been. I’m still confused as to when I conceived since I bled every month until the last, but I suppose it does not really matter. Although I had not wanted any concrete details, I am not upset when I learn the exact date. I am more worried that because of my complicated medical history the doctor decides I must have a two day procedure. I know this means pre-dilation of the cervix today.

I then begin the long queue. I see a nurse who checks my vitals, pricks my finger to check for blood type and anemia. I see a financial counselor where I learn that had my insurance not covered the procedure, it would have cost around $1800. I wonder where some of these young women are getting the money.

I then somehow get lost in the shift from the one day to the two day schedule, so I spend three hours in the waiting room. During that time I have ample opportunity to observe the other patients. Most of the women look serious, but calm. A few are crying, or closing their eyes. One woman in particular catches my eye. She is visibly pregnant, accompanied not only by her husband but her parents. She cries silently the entire time. She so obviously does not want to be terminating this pregnancy that I can only conclude that it must be for medical reasons. I wonder what she is doing at this clinic rather than in a hospital. One of the ironies of my situation is had I undergone genetic testing and decided to “terminate for medical reasons” as they say in medical lingo, my physician would have performed the procedure in the hospital. Because I “elected” to terminate my pregnancy, she would not.

After waiting quite a while and speaking first to the nurse, then to the receptionist, they realize I am still waiting. I see the nurse who reviews my medical history. I thank her, as I do every staff member I meet that day, for doing the work that they do. I tell them that I understand how lucky I am to have access to such a place staffed by people committed to women. Like many of the staff, she tells me her reasons for working at the clinic. She is a committed pro-choice activist, who believes in her work. We review my history and she is thorough and calm, explains that I will need to take antibiotics starting tonight and that she will also give me a prescription for pain medication. She advises me to hydrate today to make it easier tomorrow when I will not be able to eat or drink. She laughs as I leave and tells me that she needs more patients like me.

I’m back into the waiting room, which is almost empty. By now I have identified the other patients who are also undergoing the two day procedure today. The crying woman and a young African American woman, also visibly pregnant, who has waited with her mother for most of the day. I hear her mother asking the nurse how much the prescriptions will cost. I hear the nurse tell her that the antibiotic is most important and then the pain pills. I wish that I had my wallet so I could slip her the money. This process is grueling enough without financial worries weighing too and I hate to think of the young woman in pain tonight. I hear the nurse explain to her that the ibuprofen rx is really just the equivalent of 4 OTC ibuprofen and that she can buy whatever brand is cheapest.


Next the counselor

home again

I was quite dreading the painful part of today, but because I started having contractions I got to jump the queue and have everything done in the OR under anesthesia just in case anything went wrong

Mostly just feeling relieved that it is over.
I'm zonked out of percocet, not that they give you anything more than Tylenol with codeine but I had some l left over

pain update day 1

cramping stopped around 10PM last night and I got some sleep.

Just anxious about today. Want things over.

will post soon, so much to write about

change of plans

turns out I need a two day procedure

spent 8 hours mostly waiting a clinic today

will blog more later

unforseen complication

due to snow/ice my son's school is CLOSED today. We decide to drop my daughter at the sitter, have my son and husband drop me off (with hubby running into the clinic to sign the form for anesthesia) and then he will come back home, by which time our son's babysitter will hopefully be here.

At this point, I don't care if I have to do the whole procedure alone, I'm not postponing.

I try to call the clinic to make sure they are open, but there is no answer yet.

Money, Money Money

I am incredibly lucky in that I am well insured. I just got a call from the clinic telling me that I am covered 100%, no co-pay, no deductible. My husband, the primary insured, needs to call to confirm my benefits (I think the annual thing that tells them I have no other insurance of my own), but once I have the name and reference number, we should be golden.

This clearly is not the case for most women.

According to the Guttmacher Institute, in 2005, the last year for which they have compiled statistics, the cost of a non-hospital abortion with local anesthesia at 10 weeks’ gestation ranged from $90 to $1,800; the average amount paid was $413.

In 17 states, pregnant women qualify for medicaid and can receive public funds for abortion for any reason. Sounds good, but scarily, 13 of those states do so only because they are compelled to by court order. Other states provide funding for abortion only in specific instances.

On the flip side, restricting insurance coverage for abortion is a roundabout way to circumvent legalized abortion. Could it happen to you?

Thing to Pack for your abortion

1. comfy clothing including granny underwear
2. warm socks – medical settings are always cold and you will be in a ridiculously flimsy gown
3. a sweater or blanket – ditto above
4. lip balm – medical facilities are always dry sterile places
5. hand lotion – ditto above
6. something to entertain yourself with (books, MP3 player etc) – you will be waiting a lot, for your turn, to dilate, to be deemed “recovered,” to be picked up
7. fully charged cell phone – to call your escort or other support folks
8. in the car have a snack, as you will be starved from not eating all day. I’m taking yogurt and a granola bar, and pain killers in case the anesthesia is wearing off. I’ll also be popping a prophylactic Gas X pill.

If you’ve ever given birth, the above list will look quite familiar as it is pretty much the “mommy” part of the “going to the hospital to give birth” packing list.

Pre-abortion instructions and Preparation

Things I am told by the clinic
• Do not take any medications containing aspirin for 4 days prior
• The day prior, do not drink or eat anything after midnight
• The day prior, do not do any illegal drugs, including marijuana
• The day of do not wear any of the following, make up, nail polish, jewelry, or contact lenses
• Do not bring anything of value or any children with you to the clinic
• Do bring your insurance card, a current pay stub for the insuree, and a person to sign for the responsibility of picking you up after you receive general anesthesia.
• Plan to be at the clinic for 5-7 hours

Things I do to prepare
• Buy new yoga pants
• Color my hair
• shave my legs
• touch up my toe nail polish
• I want to get a manicure, but the place is closed due to snow, so I file my own nails
• Eat whatever the hell I want since I will not get to eat for most of tomorrow. I give myself a stomach ache eating brownies for breakfast.
• For good measure, I buy some new underwear, socks, and a cute a-line sweater dress to wear Friday to work with tights, boots and beads. No reason to look frumpy and it will hopefully hide the stupid pads I will have to wear.

Things I stock up on
• Gas x (having had 3 prior uterine surgeries I know the gas pains are terrible after)
• yogurt (because you get pumped full of antibiotics which kills the good bacteria in your body)
• Naproxen (my OTC pain killer of choice), although I am also relieved to see that I have some Rx analgesics still in the medicine cabinet,
• Pads of all sorts since I assume you bleed a lot. You do after birth and a miscarriage.

An open letter to my Doctor

Dear Doctor

First I want to thank you for the things you did to assist me in securing my second trimester elective abortion. You kindly arranged for an immediate ultrasound and made the circumstances clear so I would not have to explain once again that I planned to terminate the pregnancy. Most importantly, you secured a competent and capable physician to perform the procedure.

However, I need to tell you that I was uncomfortable with the fact that you allowed your ethical problems with my decision to be so apparent. The credo of the physician is to “first do no harm,” and I felt harmed by your attitude.

You said “well I have good news and bad news. The good news is that you are not 24 weeks yet. The bad news is that you are probably 17-18 week and I do not normally do abortions that far. I know one guy who might agree to do it, but I do not know given your medical history if he will. If it has to be performed in a hospital setting then it is back on me.”

Perhaps next time, and yes there will be a next time because I am not the only woman to choose to terminate a second trimester pregnancy, you might say the following:

"Good news! You are not 24 weeks, so abortion is still your legal option. I am going to arrange for an ultrasound so that we will have exact gestational dating, since manual examination and LMP are only estimates [in fact I was closer to 15 weeks]. The best place for you to get your abortion is at X clinic which handles a high volume of elective second trimester abortions. Let me make a few calls and come right back."

Since the doctor who does support a woman’s full legal right to choose was willing to perform my abortion on an outpatient basis I could have been spared the above. Instead, on the 30 minute drive to the ultrasound appointment I got to worry that
1. I was actually 17-18 weeks along in my pregnancy, or maybe even further, which means a far more complicated medical procedure.
2. I would be put in the position of having my abortion performed by a physician who did not believe it was ethical.

I recognize your right to draw ethical lines in the sand. What I do not recognize is your right to share your ethical lines with me. Right now, in this country, at this time, I have the legal right to an abortion up to 24 weeks. As long as the procedure is safe, that is all that should matter to you as my physician.

Again, I do thank you for the care that you do give. I am happy to know that you do perform elective second trimester abortions at earlier gestation dates since there are fewer providers willing to perform any abortions in the second trimester. I also appreciate that it seemed that you would perform the procedure if you were the only physician possible. However, I do no think that I will remain your patient any longer. From the moment I made my intentions clear I felt like everyone in your office wanted only to be rid of me as quickly as possible.

Sincerely

cry #3

just started crying as I told my husband how pissed and grumpy I am today.

I just feel stupid, stupid, stupid for
... not using birth control that one time
... for not realizing I was pregnant sooner
... for not getting my blood work done the day after my internist appointment
... for letting the ob/gyn receptionist make me wait a week for an appointment after I found out I was pregnant

Only good thing is that my husband reassured me that the ultrasound report was only comforting (I told him I did not want to know any specific information) so reading through the lines I would say it matched my gestational dates by LMP.

I just want this over

I'm tired of seeing spots every time I stand up. I have to break my cardio workout into fourths because I get breathless.

My husband just came in and said he intercepted the ultrasound report in the mail yesterday and opened it. I am pissed. He opened it. Stupid paternalistic gesture although I suppose it is his fetus too. I had a plan in place already. While I do not even see why I need the ultrasound report as I will have an ultrasound guided abortion due to previous c-sections, I planned to take it unopened in case the clinic asked for it. I tell him to take the damn thing with him to work and bring it tomorrow. I do not want any more information than that I feel in my body. I do not want to walk by it all day sitting on the front hall desk.

I am grumpy, edgy, anxious and would like to just zone out for the entire day, but no I have to go to Target to print out pictures for my son to use in a class project this week, finish prepping my work for the week in case I do not feel well on Thursday. I plan to teach Friday.

Next up, what to bring to your abortion (hint, a lot of the stuff you take to give birth)

To share or not share

People I have told
My husband
My sister
My oldest friend
My best friend
My geographically closest friend
One colleague at work

People I have not told
My parents (although my husband told his parents!)
The members of my online mothers groups with whom I post daily
Friends who live close by

Why I told

My geographically closest friend was the first person I told. I found out while driving home from work. While stopped at a gas station, I picked up my voice mail. I had a message from my internist. Not my internist’s office, but my internist himself. He said “I got your test results back, are you sitting down? You are pregnant.” My legs literally began to shake. I don’t think I could have driven the rest of the commute home, and my friend lives about 5 minutes away. She is also helping with the childcare logistics on the day of my abortion. Sadly her husband has inoperable brain cancer and he has an MRI scheduled for that day. I know that wait for those MRIs is a huge emotional drain for her, so I am trying not to rely on her for emotional support.

My sister has had two elective abortions. I helped her through the first one when she was just out of college. She tells me that I will get through this and not be haunted by my decision. She calls to check in on me and offers to fly back for the abortion, but I know taking off time in the middle of the week mid-school year is almost impossible for her.

My best friend, who is also a physician, had an abortion for a very different reason. Her second pregnancy pre-natal testing revealed trisomy 18 and she made the agonizing decision to terminate. I tried to offer support, but had recently moved across the country so was only there somewhat for her. She is mostly concerned with the medical aspects of an abortion at this stage of gestation and tries to talk me through it. She has two children of her own, so long emotional conversations coast to coast are not really possible.

I reach my oldest friend while she is on the ski slopes. She knows how conflicted I am as a mother and is 100% behind my decision. She is perhaps the person with whom I am most honest about the negative aspects of motherhood, mostly because she has no children of her own and plans none. Still she has not experienced abortion and other than telling me she supports me, there is little she can offer.

My colleague at work is perhaps the person I am closest to there, which is odd since she is a woman my mother’s age. I am fully aware that she is pro-choice and since I need her to take my Friday classes so I can go to the ob/gyn, I decide to tell her the truth. Everyone at work gets the slightly euphemistic “I had some abnormal test results that require follow up and possibly an outpatient procedure.” I work at a religiously affiliated institution and besides it is not really anyone’s business.

Although I have lived in my geographic location for four years, I do not have many close friends here. I have at least two women friends who I sense would rally to me, but I feel uncomfortable sharing with them since it seems like information that belongs to a deeper level of friendship. Maybe sharing this crisis would take us to that level, but I do not have the energy for drama, so I do not risk telling.

Why I did not tell

Although I have come to peace with my parents as people who did the best they could raising me, and I think they are largely pro-choice, this is not a level of information I would ever care to share with them. They know nothing about my miscarriage either. My mother has a tendency to get overly emotionally involved and I do not need her feelings to think about in addition to my own. That my husband told his parents still baffles me. I know his mother had an abortion, and he says that they are supportive of our decision, but I find it ironic that I speak with my parents almost daily and did not tell them, while he seldom calls his parents, yet as far as I know they are the only people he has told. He has a close friend who is a single adoptive mother who would love to be pregnant herself, so she is not a good person to lean on. He has his own therapist and I trust him to get the support he needs.

Perhaps the strangest thing for me is not telling my online mothers group. This online group formed during the pregnancy of my first son and we have been posting together for over four years. I am on our discussion board numerous times a day. However, I know that the issue of abortion is a divisive one. We have both pro-choice and pro-life members. I also know that there are members who would happily switch places with me now since they desire more children and that there are women battling various levels of infertility. I have simply stopped posting of late. When members email me privately to find out why I have not been on the board, I offer a vague non-answer. I am sure several of the members will figure out the situation from my response, and I know that at least two of the people who emailed me are pro-choice, but it just does not seem fair to burden them with the knowledge when other members of the group are unaware.