Choices

(content warning: consideration of abortion)

“Who are you?”

I carried you for six months. I agonized over whether to finish the race or stop it short. I rode the roller coaster of emotions fed by hormones, faith, and mistakes. I loved you, but I feared the responsibilities and changes that you represented. In the end, that decision was removed when my obstetrician informed me you were no longer a living entity inside of me.

Were you simply developing tissue or a growing living being? Did you have a soul already, or was there such thing as a soul? Were you a human being at conception, or was that waiting until birth? Should I have felt sad that you were no longer there, or mad, or glad? I felt a hodgepodge of feelings I could not even define.

I wanted to say I didn’t know how it all happened, but that would be a lie. I was stupid. I fell for a charmer. I had a good life with a loving husband. I loved Jesus. I enjoyed many of life’s comforts and kept myself content and desirable. I was restless. I was reckless.

When Dan turned his attention to me, I should have ignored him, but he had that chiseled look and lean body that draws every woman’s attention. He was chatty and outgoing, and I felt honored that he even noticed me. That should have been enough warning for a married woman with a husband who adored her and provided all she needed. I had no reason to wander, except that I coveted more.

We all became good friends after that church picnic three years ago. Dan and Sylvia, his mousey wife, frequently joined me and my doting husband, Ernie, for nights of cards or games over the next several months. As the days darkened and the air cooled, we enjoyed movie nights with popcorn. One of those nights was when our hands lingered in the popcorn bowl, mine and Dan’s. I was absorbed in the movie and had not noticed until I looked over. Dan was watching me. I hurriedly removed my hand, causing my husband to ask what the matter was. I made up some excuse—-I don’t even remember, but it was not difficult—-and we continued watching. I should not have done it, but I snuck a look at Dan--that handsome face--and saw he was grinning at me. I immediately turned away with warmth rising up my neck to my face.

Was it your fault I could not stop thinking about Dan? Was my desire to have a child wrapped up in my feelings? Did you have to pay the consequences of me overstepping the bounds? Did I even believe anymore that I overstepped bounds? Who came up with those bounds? When soul mates find each other, even though they are married to others, aren’t those others obligated to let go so that the true soul mates can join? I thought I read that somewhere, but after you, I wondered if I was going to hell.

Either way, Dan and I were not truly soul mates. Once I shared I was pregnant, Dan distanced himself. He had Sylvia to think about. I asked him how he could say that as if they had never thought about their respective spouses throughout their tryst. Dan clammed up and left. He would not answer text messages or emails—-I dared not call—-and eventually, Dan and Sylvia began attending another church.

Sylvia was probably happy with the change. I reasoned through that she suspected a little over a year ago when they stopped accepting invitations to join me and Ernie for anything anymore. At first, I thought their lives were busier, but I kept seeing them at church, and Dan never was stressed about work. When I asked him, Dan just mentioned things were tense at home, and he and I would need to tone it down a little. That irritated me, but I also understood. I certainly did not want to lose Ernie.

In all honesty, though, I suspected Ernie knew from the beginning. He was not a dumb man. He was very loyal, and he loved me unconditionally. He was very trusting. Sometimes I wished he were not so trusting, but I did enjoy the freedom. He did not require submission like other men in the church; he was quieter and more considerate with expressing his concerns. He enrolled us in marriage counseling and therapy once we discussed my pregnancy, which I could not hide after a while. I dutifully attended, a shell of myself, unfit for impending motherhood.

Dan told me to terminate the pregnancy. That was his demand. “Terminate it,” he demanded. I assumed that was easier to state than to kill it, to kill you. I knew the law told me I had the right to make this choice, that you were not human yet, but I didn’t want to make it alone. I didn’t really want to make this kind of choice at all. I felt God was being unfair.

In times of greater honesty, of course, I knew the problem was with me, not with Dan, not with Ernie, not with God. I didn’t know why I fell for Dan. I didn’t know why Dan…well, okay, I did know Dan liked the sex, but I realized later that it wasn’t about me. Dan just liked being man enough to sleep with more than one woman. He liked the power he had over me. I knew not all men were like that, but Dan was.

Ernie loved me for who I was. He married me because he wanted to live the rest of our lives together. He thought I was beautiful, not only physically attractive but also a woman of great character. He felt we made a good partnership.

How could I bring you into my world like this? You would have no real place in it. People would talk about you. You would be branded a bastard your entire life. Would that be fair to you?

Ernie got mad when he overheard someone at church referencing the book of Hosea after we had passed by. I was in my second trimester and starting to show. He did not get mad often, but he went back and gave the couple a piece of his mind. I was tempted to read Hosea but thought better of it. I figured it was maybe better that I didn’t know. At least no one called me Jezebel.

We began looking for a new church shortly after that incident. Dan and Sylvia were already gone, and I noticed Ernie never mentioned going to their new church. I never told Ernie who was the father of the baby, your father, but I suspected he knew.

I felt numb when I learned you were gone. A momentary relief washed over me, immediately flooded away by feelings of guilt and shame. I didn’t know if God was punishing me or showing me mercy by taking you. I knew I would no longer be required to make that horrible choice, but I kept pushing those thoughts to the background, knowing how inappropriate they were in that time of grief.

Since that day a couple of weeks ago, I found myself almost daily gazing into the mirror in our bathroom, asking the surreal reflection the same question and waiting like a freak for the response.

“Who are you?”