Sometime in the spring of 2015 I was going thru boxes of ancient papers stored in the shed. There wasn’t any reason for most of them to exist at all. They were just remnants of days past. They had been boxed up at various times, usually in preparation for a move, and never re-opened. Mostly, they consisted of 20 year old canceled checks, old power bills, and insurance policies to vehicles long ago sent to the crusher.
Still, I knew there were likely some important documents hidden within the rubbish so I was going thru them a page at a time, sorting them into boxes destined for disposal, and one box containing the ones that would require more scrutiny.
I picked up a folded yellow piece of paper, and instinctively knew it had some relevance. The parchment had a different weight and feel than all the others I had handled that day. In the end, it really doesn’t matter. I just knew it was significant. As I unfolded it, it was easy to identify as a medical document, and without further inspection, I started to place it in the box to be looked at more thoroughly later, but there were two other pieces stapled to the bottom that caught my eye. A quick glance revealed them to be ultrasound images of a child in the womb.
I needed to know that what I was looking at was what I imagined it to be, so I tried to find the date. It was a faded carbon copy, and hard to make out in the dim light, but it was there. Aug 24, 1995.
Tears welled in my eyes, and then gave way to uncontrolled sobbing. I could not wrap my mind around the images I was looking at. They were the first proof that I had ever seen that the secret I held hidden in my heart, was not just a piece of my imagination. I had never seen that document, nor any other relating to the child I had lost.
In fact, I had only spoken of it twice, in 20 years. One time was in a very brief, very angry, conversation with my wife, 20 years prior. I don’t clearly remember the words spoken. I remember the gist of it, and the reason she gave. The abortion wasn’t even the main subject in the argument. I don’t know if I immediately suppressed things, or if those feelings faded over time, but it’s almost as if the memory isn’t something I experienced myself, but rather something I observed, as if I was looking over my own shoulder.
The other time I spoke about it had only been weeks before I found the ultrasound, during a conversation with Dale. I had confessed my part in the events that led up to the abortion at some point during our conversations, but I almost immediately tucked it back into the dark recesses of my mind like I had done so well for 20 years.
That old faded scrap of paper changed things. It changed me. It was the undeniable proof that I had lost a child. It was no longer a faded memory of an “abortion”. It was a child. It was my child and I could no longer hide behind my denial.
I have given a lot of thought to why circumstances unfolded as they did. I can look at everything that took place in the months and weeks leading up to the discovery of the ultrasound. Only a short time before, I had become convicted to change who I was. I had surrendered to God after 20 years of outright rebellion. I wasn’t just at war with God, but with the entire world. In that surrender, I laid down my most powerful weapon, my anger, and that opened the door to truly feeling for the first time in so long I had forgotten how. I suppose I had to reach that point before I could deal honestly with the loss. I certainly had to reach that point before I could deal with the loss without the anger I carried hurting me and everyone around me
Whatever the reasons things played out as they did, I’m still trying to find my way. It hasn’t been an easy journey, and I suspect I have a long way to go yet, but I believe I am on the path I was meant to walk. Some days I get so frustrated, not knowing exactly where I am going, and I suppose that in a figurative sense, I tend to rest on the side of the path, unwilling to move forward. But just as God knew exactly when to reveal an old scrap of paper, he has also been faithful to put people in my path who encourage me to move forward and lift me up when I fall. I try to hang onto the belief that if I stay on the path, that someday I will see, and be able to rest in the purpose behind it all.
ManWithoutAMap 