A Monster Within Me

Today I have been sick for 9 months.

Most of the time when I tell people how long it's been, people give me a really weird reaction. They extend pity and sympathy, which is kind, but it's not what I'm looking for. I see this as a milestone; while I'm not happy about my circumstances, the joy of the Lord penetrates the worst of circumstances. He redeems the worst people and the worst trials to make His beauty known. The nine month mark of being sick is evidence of that to me; I see not nine months of trial but nine months of grace.

My life has completely changed since getting sick. It started with a stabbing pain in my left foot in the way home from a road trip with friends, an unusual and alarming pain that wouldn't go away. I was then diagnosed with a neuroma. After a while it spread to two, three...six neuromas, an unheard of diagnosis. I was diagnosed with tarsal tunnel, a pinched nerve in my ankle. But the pain spread and became unilateral (both feet), then soon I had unilateral carpal, cubital, and tarsal tunnels--pinched nerves in both of my wrists, elbows, and ankles, respectively. Another unheard of diagnosis. It spread to my lower back, arms, and made half of my left hand numb. I was tested for frightening and untreatable autoimmune diseases. We ruled out rare conditions that cause a painful and short life. The pain got worse and continued to spread--my shoulders, my neck, my face. The doctors are stumped.

Daily life looks completely different now. It's structured around taking medications, putting everything on hold for doctors appointments, and canceling weeks of my life when I'm in too much pain to get out of bed. The braces around my back, elbows, and wrists restrain me like this disease has restricted my life. I know all too well the side effects of medications: getting dizzy and lost on an elevator, days of nausea, the cripling effect of brain fog, drunkenly falling out of bed, feeling like I'm losing my mind. Constant pain serves as a constant reminder for my imperfections.

I know the fear of not knowing what's happening to my body, if I'll ever be well again, or if I'll ever live a normal life. There's a monster inside of me, and I don't know its name. Is it eating me away? Or are the remedies I use to make it through each day what are destroying me? Should I fear liver damage from my medications or long term nerve damage from this disease? Should I fear for my life?

I hate this monster. I hate what it has done to my life. If I could kill him without destroying myself, I would.

But when I don't know what to fear, I learn not to fear.

I have lost many things from being sick. Opportunities, comfort, friendships, freedom, the ability to perform simple tasks, even my handwriting has changed. I say all of this because I have learned the following:

A thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:7-10) 

I am incredibly weak, in some of the most practical and obvious ways. Some days I am too physical weak to stand and must be carried to the bathroom. Other times my medication changes my ability to think so drastically that friends and family must take care of me, help feed me, and walk me across the street because I am too sick to notice the oncoming cars. I go days, even weeks feeling like a stranger with a different personality. Even in the midst of this trial, I still struggle with turning to God but instead react to pain with anger and sin--I am so spiritually weak in the simplest ways. And goodness gracious am I emotionally weak, like I never knew I could be. I feel frail and worn out, I'm exhausted and sometimes feel hopeless.

I am not complaining. I am boasting.

God has allowed this to happen. This does not make me angry at Him. I get angry sometimes that I am sick, but He has continually shown me that He is still good. He allowed me to be sick because somehow, in a way I cannot understand, me being sick for 9 months is what glorifies Him the most. I hate the monster that reminds me of my fallen state and the imperfections of this world. My eyes are opened to a new level of suffering that so many experience much worse than I can comprehend, and I long for the return of Christ when sin and evil and pain will end forever.

I hate this monster, but I love the Father who uses even the worst evil to teach us of His love. I now know what depending on Him for daily bread feels like. I have learned to not trust my own plans for the future, whether it's plans for the weekend or the summer or my life, I never know what my health will be doing. With so many misdiagnosises and now being undiagnosed, I have learned not to lean entirely on my own and my doctor's understanding but take comfort that God knows everything. My Maker holds my health, and I'm learning to let that be enough.

I've prayed Psalms from the inside of an MRI machine. I've joked with nurses while they draw my blood and hook me up to IVs. I've almost fainted in a professor's office. I've been carried through a McDonald's. I've had to ask for help. I've had to let others love and serve me. I've seen people fail me and had to forgive them.

This is not the life I would have chosen, but there is a Savior who has chosen me for it. There is a peace that passes all understanding. I am as undeserving of this peace as I am of the grace that gets me through each day and the love that surrounds me and overflows my cup.

It's been nine months. Nine hard months, but nine of the richest months I've ever experienced. This isn't the anniversary of the day I lost something, but the day God moved my life in a direction I hadn't anticipated. As a Puritan prayer puts it:

"I rejoice to know that all things are at Thy disposal, and it delights me to leave them there."

Resting in the sovereignty of our Lord,
Happy 9 months.

Water is the New Sidewalk

The past six months have been phenomenal--I've learned so much, depended on God in new ways, made new friends, transitioned to a new phase of life, and grown up a lot. I love my life right now. 

About a week ago, I passed the six month mark on when a weird pain started in my foot. Since then the pain has moved to nearly every other area of my body; it has manifested in many different ways, I've been to more doctors than I can remember, tried more medications than I care to think about, and been tested for diseases I hadn't known existed. It's funny, though, how normal this all seems. Wearing braces, keeping track what of time I take what medication, limping, and planning out my days to avoid walking as much as possible is routine for me now. 

You can get used to doing what it takes to get by, but not the pain itself. I don't think you can ever get used to chronic pain--the stabbing pain with each step, the sudden sharp cramps, the numbness, the tingling, or the worry of noticing when something else is wrong. There are times when I feel almost hopeless--like my body is refusing to work, falling apart, shutting down on me and no one can figure out why. But I'm not hopeless, and I never will be. There really is a "peace that passes all understanding," a God-given ability to "rejoice in the Lord always," and a "joy [that] comes in the morning." 

Yesterday my pastor talked about Jesus walking on water and storms in our lives. He said that God allows storms for a reason, and when the reason is fulfilled the storm will end. He showed how when Peter focused on Jesus the storm was not important, and only when he his attention strayed from Jesus did he sink. Whatever the purpose of this particular storm, apparently it is not fulfilled. That is encouraging to me--I have learned so much already, and there is more yet to be learned. I look forward to the day when I can walk normally, run around and be goofy, not have to worry about having my orthotics and braces and all my medications each morning, wear whatever shoes I want, serve others instead of always being served, stand on my toes, prop myself up on my elbows, and not have to take breaks from sitting up to go lay down. But there is purpose for pain, there is joy in suffering, and every flare has that beautiful moment when I realize my pain has subsided. 

I've learned to depend on others. I've learned to discern when to ask for help when I need it and to suck it up. I've stopped caring about what other people think while I adjust my noisy back brace, limp, shake the bottle of Tums in my backpack with each step, look terrible because it took all my energy to get out of bed, and miss out on fun events because of my pain. Well, I should say, I'm learning to do all of these things. It's still a struggle, but one day I will get there. There is a time when the purpose of the storm will be fulfilled and the seas will calm. Until then, I will keep looking at Jesus and walking on water.

Well, limping on water. 

Tonya Reaves

***Update*** The local CBS television station received new documents regarding the death of Tonya Reaves. Her D&E abortion was performed at Planned Parenthood at 11 am, but after the procedure she began bleeding heavily. The bleeding continued for five and a half hours at Planned Parenthood until she was taken to the emergency room at 4:30 pm. There the doctors had to start from scratch to figure out what was wrong with her. They performed an ultrasound then another D&E. When the heavy bleeding continued they performed a second ultrasound and discovered a perforation. Tonya was taken to emergency surgery at 10:12 pm, but the bleeding was uncontrollable. Her death was completely avoidable, but after bleeding heavily for over five hours at Planned Parenthood before receiving medical treatment was too much. Once she was moved from Planned Parenthood to a hospital, even more valuable time was lost while the doctors started from scratch to discover the severity of her injuries.

LifeNews quotes an emergency room doctor with 30 years of experience named Dr. James C. Anderson, M.D. He pointed out the habit of abortion clinics sending injured patients to the emergency room without giving the doctors appropriate information concerning their condition. "I have always had to evaluate the situation, come to my own conclusions, and initiate what I thought was appropriate treatment. This definitely created some time delays that were not in the patient's best interest," stated Dr. Anderson. "These delays can have life-threatening implications when dealing with hemorrhage or infection." (More)

**Update** Tonya's family have found an attorney who is looking into a civil lawsuit against Planned Parenthood. (More)

*Update* Congressman Cliff Stearns has been looking into an investigation of Planned Parenthood regarding hiding sexual abuse and Medicaid fraud, and he is now pressing for an investigation regarding Tonya's death. (More)

Last Friday, a health young woman named Tonya Reaves went to a Planned Parenthood in Chicago for a second trimester D&E abortion. She was 24, engaged to be married, and had a son who had just turned one. She was transported to a hospital for hemorrhage. She was pronounced dead at the hospital at 11:20 PM. The autopsy Saturday determined that she died from hemorrhage caused by the abortion. Troy Newman, the head of Operation Rescue, explained, "Abortion deaths like this are completely avoidable. When a woman bleeds to death after an abortion, it is usually an indication of error on the part of the abortionist coupled with a delay in calling for emergency assistance. Planned Parenthood should be held accountable." Abortion clinics are not equipped for such emergency complications, and when an emergency does happen, calling an ambulance is avoided because it brings such bad publicity.

Yesterday, in an incredibly insensitive move, Obama called for more government funding for Planned Parenthood. "Mr. Romney wants to get rid of funding for Planned Parenthood. I think that's a bad idea," the president explained. "I've got two daughters. I want them to control their own health care choices."

Really, Obama? You want your daughters to be cared for by Planned Parenthood? I don't often get angry, but I'm angry about this one. How many more women like Tonya have to die before things change? What will it take for the government to stop funding organizations with blood on their hands?

Tonya Reaves 

Life and Death and Apollo 13

I'm really becoming a fan of finding places in our culture where human life is valuable.

I'm a little behind on things, but I only saw Apollo 13 for the first time a few weeks ago. Anyways, it was great, and one thing in particular really struck me. When it looked as if Apollo 13 wouldn't be able to land back on earth, the entire world was captivated by the story. People put their normal lives on hold, gathered around their televisions, and prayed for these lives that hung in the balance. For three lives. Yet how often do we not care about far more than three lives that are hanging in the balance? While it's discouraging sometimes when people don't care about stopping the thousands of deaths each day from abortion, it's refreshing to see the world care about the lives of these three men.

Life and Death and...the AVENGERS!!

I'm not usually one for action movies. While they can be fun, completely lacking a plot is one of the most annoying things a movie can do. Even if there is a plot, not having good characters or character development or anything at all realistic is really annoying. Well, I don't know if the Avengers somehow managed all of that perfectly or if I was just in a super good movie-watching mood when I watched it, but I loved it.

Maybe I just liked all different superheroes with all different back stories, habits, styles, and struggles all trying to put aside their differences and work together. Iron Man's arrogance, the Hulk's anger issues, Captain America feeling outdated, Thor being a mythical god...ect, it made for an interesting plot.

Or maybe I just like the idea of superheroes.

Or maybe I realized just how much superhero movies appeal to the part of us that wants the good guys to win, that wants evil to lose, that wants human life to be spared.

I'm beginning to realize the parts of our culture that does value life. The Avengers have to work together in order to protect millions of people from dying at the hands of evil. Near the end of the movie, New York City is under a huge attack and many authorities wanted to drop a nuclear bomb on the city in order to keep the attack from spreading. The Avengers want to spare as much human life as they can, so they have to find a way to save the world as well as the city.

I like superhero movies, cause with each daring and incredibly act they are protecting the lives of the human beings. Too many action movies show thousands of people dying during a really cool shot of a building blowing up. Superheroes value and protect human life.

Life and Death and Parks and Rec

Last week's episode of the best TV show ever, Parks and Recreation, brought up some interesting questions. When City Counsel candidate Leslie Knope accidentally insulted a man in a speech, only to find he had just died, people were horrified. What she said would have been fine if he had been living, but because he had recently passed away it was unacceptable. Now me, being the Parks and Rec fan and nerd that I am, couldn't help but ask questions.

What is it about death that makes us respect those who have passed?

We go to funerals of people we barely knew or aren't even fond of. Why is that? Why is insulting a deceased person extra offensive, even if it's the truth? Why do we honor the dead, even those whose life we never honored?

I think this has to do with our understanding and value of life. Which leads to more questions.

How much do you value life? If you had to put a price on it, what would it be? To what extent would you go to save the life of someone you love, somebody you know, or a stranger? Saving a life could mean jumping in a frozen lake to save a drowning person, pushing someone out of the path of an oncoming car, stepping in when a person is being mugged, preventing suicide, performing life saving surgery, being at the right place at the right time to call 911, or sending money to developing countries to provide food, water, and medicine to the poor. Whatever it may be, is it worth you sacrificing your time, energy, and resources for?

We all value life to some extent. It's not entirely about courage, bravery, or sacrificing. While that's definitely part of it, I think it's mostly about our value of life. Do we ever not value life enough? That's an extremely dangerous mistake to make, but I do it all the time. Where do we need to value life more? Whose life am I not valuing?

(Also, congratulations to Leslie for winning the campaign.) 

The Weight

This was originally posted in July of 2011 using tumblr. 

I can already tell this post is going to be very hard to write. This is a question that I still struggle with every day, though I have no idea how to answer it. I’ve been facing it for over two years and I still feel like I deal with it by improvising. Though I don’t have it anywhere near figured out, I’m learning a lot about what works and what doesn’t. Going through daily life with the weight of abortion is possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I choose the word “weight” carefully—feeling the emotional pain of so many children dying and women hurting who you can’t help and seeing such a huge battle ahead when you’re already tired, the only way to describe it is a weight. It wears you down, makes everything else seem tedious, exhausting, and so insignificant, and I’ve found it to even wear me out physically. There are so many people dying, they all need someone to grieve for them. There are so many women hurting, they all need someone to cry with them. How do I handle that while doing homework, babysitting, hanging out with family and friends, and doing chores?

I’ve had many dark days where the weight consumes me. I’ve had many days that are dark in another way because the weight seems to no longer matter. How I handle this weight effects my family, friends, performance in school, my productivity with book stuff, and my relationship with God. I don’t think it is humanly possible to excel in all of these areas—however, there is a way to prioritize and do my best at what matters. I just have to figure that out, now.

So how do I handle the weight of abortion? A very simple answer is to use it as fuel. People often tell me after I explain abortion that “that’s so sad” and “that makes me want to cry.” While it is heart-wrenching, I do not believe simple sadness is the answer. The Bible distinguishes the difference between anger and righteous anger; anger is a sinful, irrational, self-centered emotion, and righteous anger is joining God in a strong negative emotion toward something unjust that leads to action. Abortion does not call for sitting back and pitying the children being ripped limb from limb in their mother’s womb, but a fiery, passionate, righteous anger that leads to swift action to bring justice. Turn the weight into righteous anger, and let that fuel our work of bringing justice.

What Does That Look Like? 

Here’s the all-annoying question I ask myself way too much: how does this practically play out? How do I write a paper on Hamlet when I’d much rather do something to save another precious child’s life? How can I let the weight fuel my righteous anger and let that lead to action when I’m supposed to unload the dishwasher? (Speaking of which…) How do I comfort a friend who’s having personal issues when tens of thousands of lives are on the line every single day?

It’s an obvious tension we must walk in. I feel like Paul when He said, “To live is Christ and to die is gain.” He wanted to continue to serve God’s people, but he also longed to be rid of this world and meet his Savior in Heaven. There are days when I feel like I’m called to two lives, the “normal one” and the passionate one, and I can’t handle them both. I oftentimes find myself picking one or the other, but either way it ends up disastrous. All I can do is trust God. Trust Him to provide me the strength to live with this weight, trust Him to give me the ability to remain sane another day longer, trust Him that He knows the end of abortion and how we play into it, trust Him in everything. That’s my big and grand answer. I’ve been told by many caring people that I’m not made to carry this burden, and I believe that’s true to some extent. I’m not carrying it, Jesus carried abortion to the grave and left it there. However, I do believe there is incredible value in feeling it. There is value in feeling the weight. We are called to walk this tension, feel the pain abortion brings, mourn for the dead, mourn with those who feel it too, and let it fuel our righteous anger.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Matthew 5:8

Why the Heck Are You Writing a Book?

Originally posted in February, 2011 on tumblr. 

Woo-hoo. Little Book Girl’s got herself a blog. 

For my first blog post ever, I wanted to explain the question I get asked more than any other: “Why the heck are you writing a book?” I’m a sixteen year old highschool girl who’s setting out on the ridiculous mission of writing a book. For teenagers. About abortion. Believe me, I’m still in shock too. It’s still an absurd thought that I would be doing something like this, and I laugh about it frequently. Let me try to explain why I’m doing this. 

In the Beginning, There Was a Research Paper

It started with a research paper, assigned to me in early 2009. The assignment was a 7-9 page paper on an American “anti-hero;” certainly a daunting task for ninth-grade me. The list of people we could choose from included Betty Friedan, Karl Marx, Charles Darwin, Margaret Sanger, and many more. While my topic was still undecided, one day my teacher came up to me at church and asked me about my paper. She told me, “You should write your paper on Margaret Sanger!” For some reason, I completely agreed with her and just took her word for it. From that moment on, I knew that’s what my paper needed to be about. It’s odd explaining it, but I felt as if it had already been decided. 

2.5 billion: Dead. 

I soon began researching the life and legacy of Margaret Sanger, the founder of Planned Parenthood. In my research I read books like Killer Angel by George Grant, Why Can’t We Love Them Both by Dr and Mrs Willke, and Won by Love by Norma McCorvey. I read dozens of pamphlets and brochures about everything related to abortion. I read websites like theunchoice,justfacts, and afterabortion. Everything I read lead me to one conclusion: abortion is a heinous act of murder and treachery, and somebody has to stop it. I clearly remember the moment, sitting at my desk in my room, reading Grant’s Killer Angel, when I read that 2.5 billion children have been killed by abortion. That has left far more than 2.5 billion people scarred by the abortion—mothers, fathers, siblings, family members, doctors, nurses…billions of people. I was stunned. I felt helpless against such a huge evil; there was nothing I could do. 

Do Hard Things 

Soon, I finished my paper and turned it in. I hadn’t totally forgotten about abortion, it seemed to lurk in the very back of my mind. I didn’t start thinking about it daily until later that summer. I read Do Hard Things by Alex and Brett Harris and suddenly I could believe that teenagers could do big things too. Teenagers can, and are, changing the world. I attended their Rebelutionconference where I heard of Abort73. I looked them up when I got home, and the horrors of abortion became fresh in my mind again. Despite lots of other things going on in my life, abortion became the front and foremost thought in my mind. I memorized statistics. I littered my room with sticky notes. I read anything I could get my hands on about it. Finally, I emailed my teacher who I wrote my research paper for and asked her what to do about it. 

“Hey Becca, Write a Book”

A few weeks later, she came up to me at school and said something that, since that moment, has completely changed my life. “Becca, I think you should write a book.” She went on to explain how much teenagers need to know about this; it directly effects our lives and we have the power to do something about it. I knew right away this is what I had been waiting for; this is what I needed to do. I continued to pray about it. I was incredibly hesitant to tell even my friends and family for fear I would fail. But God gave me an incredible peace about it, and more faith than I had ever experienced before. This is what I was made to do. This is why I am here. I’ve become more comfortable with the thought of writing a book, it’s gone from terrifying to hilarious. God has provided for me in so many ways for this book—from giving me a free laptop right after first telling me to write a book, to people frequently sending me links to things right when I need them the most. It’s been an incredible growing experience for me, and I hope to share some of that with you as God moves, I write, and life goes on. I’m still figuring out how in the world you’re supposed to write a book (much less as a teenager and about abortion), and I’m blown away over and over again by God’s grace in the midst of this chaos. 

That is the condensed version of why I’m writing a book. God works in such mysterious ways, I could never write all of them in a blog. I don’t think even I will fully understand why I’m doing this—other than because God said to. Nothing brings me greater joy than doing this. I’m hoping I can share that with you through this blog. Let’s hope I actually update it :) 

Here are some more FAQs (I’ve always wanted to say that. Ha.) 

Q: What is your book going to be called? 

A: The Unborn and the Uninformed. Snazzy, huh? 

Q: How long will it be? 

A: 30,000 words. Give or take a lot. Right now it’s looking like 10 chapters,between 3,000 and 5,000 words each, which is approximately 15-20 pages each. That means the book could run between 150-300 pages. But all of that depends on font, font size, page size, publishing company, how editing goes, ect. Basically: ask me when I’m done. I don’t really have a clue. 

Q: Are you going to get it published? 

A: That’s the plan. 

Q: How will that work? 

A: Ideally, I’ll find a publisher. But that’s unlikely and very difficult to do, especially because my book is so unique. If publishing doesn’t work, I’ll self publish. 

Q: When will you be done? 

A: I’d love to be done by the time I graduate highschool, but I don’t have much control over that. The more I research, the more there is to write. The more I write, the more there is to edit. I’m relying on God’s timing for all of this, so whenever He decides He wants it done it’ll be done. James 4:13-17. 

Q: What’s the significance behind “twopointfive”?

A: 2.5 billion lives have been lost to abortion. That was the statistic that first hit me and has stuck with me the most. Long story short, when I sat down and tried writing for the first time, I named the document “2.5,” and the name just stuck. (For those of you who don’t know, twopointfive was the name of my survey project a year ago.) 

Thanks for reading :) 

“Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world” James 1:27, ESV.