I’m going to relate a personal story because, why the hell not? It took place quite a long time ago, during the second term of the Clinton administration, probably well before some of you crazy kids were even born.
The mister and I found out we were going to have a baby, and damn, we were so excited! We had an ultrasound at one point and found out we were having a girl, and we (well, at least I) rejoiced at dodging the circumcision debate bullet.
Everything was going along fine until sometime well into the second trimester, when I started getting these weird headaches and crippling nausea and swollen, balloon-like feet. Because we had decent healthcare coverage, we were able to quickly learn that I had preeclampsia.
No one knows why. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You don’t get it from drinking or pot or slut-pills or laziness. It’s just one of those random-ass things that can happen when you undertake the complex process of assembling a separate human being inside your hoo-hah.
Anyhoo, the little parasite that was causing all this trouble was already dear to the mister and me, but the doctor explained to us all the ways that this thing could go south. Preeclampsia poses a risk to the fetus but can also cause the mother to stroke out and die. Seriously, that shit happens.
So the doctor ordered bed rest, which wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounds since this was in the pre-tablet, smartphone and streaming TV era, so I had nothing but daytime television and books to while away the dreary hours.
I had to have my blood pressure taken a lot and go to the hospital for high-res ultrasounds weekly to monitor the fetus and make sure things weren’t getting worse. The high-res ultrasounds were pretty cool, because we could see details such as that our future child had lots of hair. She took after her dad on that score; I was bald as an egg as a baby.
Anyhoo, this all has a happy ending: The little parasite who tried to kill her host is now a senior in high school and is finding alternative ways to suck the life out of me, such as driving a car and requiring astonishing sums of money for various necessities.
But I was reminded of our first ordeal together last night when we were watching the GOP debate and Scott Walker proudly affirmed that he’s in favor of abolishing abortion altogether with no exceptions, not even to save the life of the mother.
My husband, doctor and I white-knuckled our way through a high-risk pregnancy where death — of myself or the fetus — was a remote but ever-present possibility. It was about as fraught and emotional a situation as you’d guess.
But you want to know what would have made it a thousand times worse? If a vile, officious, ignorant, beady-eyed little worm like Scott Walker had inserted himself into our intensely private business and restricted our choices.
The nerve. The temerity. The unmitigated fucking gall of these motherfuckers. And so-called moderate Jeb Bush is no better. Just ask Mr. Schiavo. So yeah, fuck those fucking pricks, with every rusty implement in the tool shed. The end.
PS: Open thread!