“No crying mama.”

“Mama has a booboo on her heart, Jack. She could probably go outside and flood that lake with her tears.”

“Then GO Mama! You go outside and flood the lake with tears!”

My son is the best therapy.

The BIrd is Born:

On August 11, at around 10:00 p.m. my labor started. We waited for about an hour, then I saw bleeding so I called the nurse, who told me to go to the hospital. When we got there we did the usual checking in stuff, and they brought me to a tiny room, strapped a monitor to my belly, and we waited. When finally the nurse came in, I was checked and told I was dilated to 2 cm and needed to go home. I was so bummed!!! I couldn’t believe I was being sent home, but oh well.

We got home at about 2:00 am. There was no way I was going to sleep through the contractions I was having, but I did try. Sleep was not in the stars for me, so I got up and took a bath. After that, Dan suggested we go for a walk around the block.

At this point it was probably about 5:00 am. The walk around the block, looking back on it now, was HILARIOUS. At the time, it was very very very painful. But when I look back on it now I can just imagine how we must have looked walking around the block. I was wearing a very comfy cami, with these huge wonderful gray sweatpants. Dan was actually dressed in normal clothes. With us, as always, was our trusty cocker spaniel, Karma. So here we are, looking like quite the goof troop, taking a walk around the neighborhood at 5 in the morning. The contractions were close at this point, I swear to you I had to stop every 2 minutes to let the pain pass. There was one point, when we were furthest away from our house, where I had a bit of an anxiety attack. I said to Dan “What the hell are we doing out here! I don’t think I can make it home! I can’t walk much longer, you are going to have to go get the car and pick me up, but you can’t leave me!” Somehow I made it back– by the time we got home the sun was rising. It was a very very very very long walk. Thinking about it makes me laugh.

As soon as we got home we got in the car to go back to the hospital. Many 4-letter words were uttered by me in regards to things like “they better keep me this time” and “this is incredible pain.” Through the pain, on the way there, I made all my required phone calls. Which were probably pretty funny. Of course I insisted on calling people, because Dan was driving and I wanted him to be focused on the road!

We got to the hospital at around 7, and of course they kept me. I was dilated to 4 cm when we arrived. By about 10 am I was settled into a really big, nice room. My nurse was soooooo nice. I will never ever forget her. She was an absolute sweetheart, and funny too. I had my husband, mom, aunt, dad, and a bunch of other people there with me. What a joy and pleasure it was to be surrounded by people I loved, and people who loved me. Everyone was talking, and focusing on me, making sure I felt ok, was comfortable, and making me laugh. My doctor visited me, and we discussed an epidural. I was in a lot of pain at that point, but wasn’t sure I needed it yet. She gave me a bit of pain medicine and said she would check back in with me in a half hour.

About 45 minutes later I decided to go ahead and get the epidural. I have to be honest: this was probably the scariest part for me. When the doctor arrived to actually administer the epidural, I was told that everyone had to leave the room. Oh man. Oh man. My nurse stayed with me, though, and held my hand throughout the process. I can’t express how grateful I was for that simple act. Because I was scared shitless to get that epidural. I wanted it, for sure, but I was terrified.

By about 12:30 p.m., I was comfortable and I faded in and out of sleep to the voices of loved ones. I would hear someone say something about me and would groggily answer in my usual smart-ass fashion. I remember feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience, looking down on me and my family. I couldn’t believe I was about to have a baby.

At 2:40 p.m. (I REMEMBER), I called my mom and nurse over to the bed and told them I felt like I had to push. I was having a lot of pressure in my back and I knew it was time. The nurse called the doctor, and she came up to check me. Indeed, I was fully dilated and Jack was ready to make his appearance. Everyone was cleared out of the room except for my mom and husband. By 3:00 p.m., we were all ready.

When I started to push, I remember being worried that I wasn’t doing it right. But then, in an instant, it was like something from somewhere was guiding me and telling me what to do. Yes, of course my doctor was telling me, my mom was telling me, and my husband was telling me. But it was a distinct, clear inner voice that I heard. You can do this. YOU CAN DO THIS. Soon after I started to push, my doctor asked me if I wanted mirrors set up so I could see myself giving birth. YES was my immediate and enthusiastic answer.

As soon as those mirrors were set up, I felt an inner power release and any lingering doubts I had left about my ability to bring this child into the world vanished. Watching myself give birth to my son was the single most amazing experience I have ever had. With my final push, at 3:25 p.m., my beautiful baby boy slipped out into this wild world with a scream.

I gave way to the rivers of tears that had pooled inside me. Dan cut the cord, and my boy was handed to me. There was no way I could control those emotions, not that I wanted to or that anyone asked me to. My husband was crying, my mother was crying, I was sobbing and Jack was screaming. It was so amazing. So real. So authentic.

There really aren’t words to describe this experience. This account feels lacking to me, and I don’t know how to adequately put into writing how this made me feel. I felt this same loss for words then, too. After all of the excitement, and everyone met my baby boy, and finally it was time to move me into my room, I was trying to verbalize to my husband how I felt. He was pushing me in the wheelchair through the hallways of the hospital and I looked up to him.

“Did you see that?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did you see what I can do? Did you see what I did do?”
(Light laughter and smile) “Yes, yes I was there, I did see what you can do.”
“I made that boy. I made him and I pushed him out, to share with all the world. Can you even believe it?”
“You are pretty amazing. It was pretty amazing.”
“It’s more then amazing. You witnessed me transform into the beautiful Mother Goddess that I am.”
(Smile) “Yup.”
“No, dude. I am powerful, do you understand that? I am an absolute power goddess right now, holding her sweet baby boy.”

And now, three years later… I still feel the same way. All women should when they give birth, no matter how they give birth. Your power is overwhelming, beautiful, raw, and real. Do not ever forget that.

*The above conversation is verbatim, because I wrote the conversation down in my journal when we reached the room. I also have witnesses
Addendum: The Tigers game was on on the background while I was giving birth, WTF?! Forgot to turn it off in all the excitement!

When I had Jack, everyone but everyone wanted to hear about him. How is he, how was he, how much did he weigh, what time was he born, what is his feeding like, how are his night habits and on and on and on. Understandably so; I had just given birth to a new being, a brand new human for my family to love, coo over, cuddle with and count on.

But, the key here is that I had just given birth to him. Me. And don’t you want to hear my story? Don’t you want to hear about me? Sure, everyone also asked if I was ok, how was I doing? But only one person asked me to share my birth story. And when she did, my spirit soared and my heart ached a bit because it was what I had been waiting for. I was busting at the seams and chomping at the bit to tell someone about what birth had been like for me. It was only the most significant, important and meaningful event in my life– and yet only one person asked me to share my tale.

I think that not asking women about our birth stories is tied up with taking birthing away from women. Look at the situation: we do not give birth the way we did. I am not talking about technology, either. I am talking about the culture surrounding birth and birth experience. Unless you are extremely aware of how the medical establishment works, and you seek out what is termed an “alternative birthing experience” you do what practically every woman does: find a doctor and go to a hospital– without questions or thought. Do not get me wrong– I am definitely not saying that giving birth in a hospital (with a lot of drugs to make you as comfortable as you want to be) is not a valid choice. It wrinkles my feathers when I read some articles about natural birthing because there is a tendency to be so condescending and dismissive of women who choose to give birth in a hospital with an epidural. We need to embrace all choices of birthing style.

More then that, we need to change the climate and culture within which women give birth. We need to take this back. The first step in this process must be education. Women need to be aware of all their choices in giving birth. The medical establishment has taken birth from women, turned it into something we couldn’t possibly understand or know about; moreover, know what is best for ourselves.

Let me say this: it is my contention that women know, from the very depths of their souls, how to birth, how to bring that new, slippery wet life into this world. This is what we know deeply and innately. Without question. And if you are pregnant, reading this, scared shitless and shaking your head no, no, no, no I don’t know how to do this and I am scared out of my mind, I say that I was there. And let me tell you: it came. The knowledge came, from a place that I know intuitively was always there and will always be there. And so for you, too.

So, I will regal you with the story of the birth of Bird, and the birth of me as a mother, in my next post. Know this, women: birthing is yours, and you choose who you share it with and how.

An added note:  This applies to cesarean births as well.  Cesareans save lives, and you know when things are not going right and you must have a c-section.  I will admit, up front, my own feelings regarding scheduled c-sections because your doctor has a ski weekend in Aspen scheduled, or a c-section pressured on a woman when she knows it’s not time yet.  This last situations go back to the culture of birth the medical establishment has created.  When women are pressured to have a c-section simply because their doctor is inconvenienced, an irreversible injustice has been done to that woman, and shame on you, Doctor.

The word “choice” and what it entails for women’s reproductive rights has been bothering me lately. I don’t like that the majority of people equate “choice” with abortion. For me, that is a problem. Because what we are fighting for is so much more then the right to choose abortion if we deem it the best path for our lives. It is really about reproductive freedom, and true choice includes all viable options for a pregnant woman.

All you need to do is look at maternity/parental leave benefits around the world. Women and families in this country do not get what they NEED in order to adequately adjust to life as a family, with a newborn– whether it is their first or their 4th. The United States allows for only 12 weeks of unpaid maternity leave, and nothing for parental/father leave. You have to count on your own employer to allow a leave for that. And, if your employer doesn’t meet the threshold requirements for FMLA, then you only get 6 WEEKS of unpaid maternity leave! 6 Weeks?!!? As a victim of the 6 week rule, I speak from personal experience when I say that going back to work for this first time mom was the most painful experience I have been through. At a time when I was vulnerable and my newborn was vulnerable, I had to leave him and get to work. My experience is not unique. This happens to thousands of women in this country everyday. And at the same time, it’s not like many could even afford to stay at home for 12 weeks unpaid. Many cash in vacation time (if they are allowed to) or other PTO to still get some kind of pay while they are on leave.

We have no social support options for single women beyond medicaid/welfare/state programs for assistance. And these programs are woefully inadequate. In France, heavily subsidized childcare, home visits from a state nurse, state support in every corner you look for new moms and parents. In Sweden, a country often considered the gold standard in social safety nets, parental leave can be divided between mom, dad, and grandparents. They get 390 days of leave paid at 80% of their income, and 90 days at a flat standard rate (for more awesome info, check this out).

Why is it that here in the US, with probably the most violent and vehement “pro-life” movements, these issues aren’t at the top of their lists? Shouldn’t “pro-life” groups be up in arms about this sad state of affairs? I mean, they are so concerned about unborn children and what women decide to do with unplanned pregnancies. It would only make sense, if they value life so much, that they would be fighting (and fighting hard) for policies and social safety nets for women and families, to encourage healthy family connections and make it as stress-free as possible to continue a prgnancy.

OH! Wait! I get it…

It’s because I value women and children completely. And “pro-life” organizations do not. The issue with them has always been about power and control over women. I have always found it fascinating that these groups don’t see the disconnect between their words and their actions. And I don’t think they care to see it. As soon as a woman decides to continue the pregnancy, these organizations move on. Because you are on your own. And this breaks my heart. As a society, we don’t value the choice of motherhood. It’s this weird, f-ed up thing where motherhood is raised to this almost saint-like status, but you have to do it on your own, with your own private support network. The majority of families, regardless of what these families look like, don’t have a tremendous amount of support. “It takes a village” is what they say, but that village for most is abandoned. I love the mommy blogs and groups like that that have developed over these past few years on the internet. They are a great source of support, however “virtual” support is not enough.

We need to fight for policies that support the choice of motherhood, too. Honestly, I see pro-women, pro-child, pro-choice groups fighting this fight. But for the wider audience of people, not involved in these issues, we need to be more clear that choice does not equal abortion. Choice is about ALL choices a woman has, and the support she needs and her family needs when a decision is made, no matter what the decision.

*disclaimer: I don’t want anyone to think I am judging them for using Pull-Ups as a “potty- training” tool, because as I type this my son is wearing Pull-Ups and, probably, has peed in them already. I am simply writing about my own observations about myself and Pull-Ups. If you identify with any of this, know you are not alone, and not a bad parent

Yes, this is a blog post about potty training.

In June I started potty training my Bird. So, of course, what did I do? I went out and stocked up on Pull-Ups. Bird and I had been having discussions about the potty, how cool using it was, how much fun it is, the big step into “Big Boy-ness”, for quite some time, and I knew the hold-up was me. I decided that if we started in June, that gives us 2 months and maybe he will be set by his birthday, which is in August. I felt like these were reasonable goals, especially since he had been giving me every sign in the book that he was ready for quite some time.

Hmm, but had I been giving every sign in the book that I was ready? Nope. Not at all. However, I didn’t pay attention to this.

When we started, we had a lot of early success! It happened so quickly, I thought “oh this is no big deal! He’s getting it!” And he was! In the backwards way he has of doing some things, he was exceedingly comfortable with doing, um, you know… number 2. And this actually made it easier for me, because I could help him identify the signs before hand (since it was so obvious). We were full on into it! He was telling me when he had to go, and using the potty for, um, number 2, regularly! YAY!! AWESOME!!! WOO-HOO!!!

Now, peeing was a different story. I couldn’t tell when he was peeing, so I couldn’t help him identify the signs. He would inadvertently go in the potty while he was doing the other. But we weren’t getting a handle on him telling me, like he was with the other, when he had to use the potty. No problem, I figured. We are getting somewhere fast, so we have time. All of this was happened in the short space of 2 weeks.

Then he got sick. And quickly following that we went on vacation. I stopped asking him if he needed to use the potty as much. And he, in turn, stopped telling me when he had to go.

…And I was ok with that. In fact, while he was sick and we were on vacation, I found myself thinking “Thank god he’s not asking to use the potty.” It would have been such an inconvenience. How annoying, to have to take my kid to the bathroom.

There. I said it. It was easier for me to let him do his thang in the Pull-Up. And as soon as he figured that out, guess what happened? We are back to square one in some respects. He knows he is not actually wearing big boy underwear. Even though I made a big deal about it at the beginning, when he was sick I stopped.

So there. Pull-Ups are for parents kinda ready for potty training. They don’t make a damn bit of difference for your kid. In fact, I think now all they do is confuse your kid. THEY ARE DIAPERS!!! So I don’t get angry of frustrated with him for not getting it yet. I am the one standing in the way.

They should market Pull-Ups directly to the parents: Do you know your child is ready for potty training, but not so sure you are? Do you feel like it is time to start potty training but you really just can’t quite get yourself committed? Then buy Pull-Ups! The step in between diapers and real underwear! Pull-Ups: For the uncommitted potty trainer, like you!!!

Next week, we go directly to real underwear. That’s right. I will let you know how I do.

*I know some enlightened parents already knew this, but each in their own time, right?

The NOW 2010 National Conference was really an amazing experience. It was exciting for me to witness first hand that NOW, as an organization, is reaching out to young feminist leadership and looking towards the future. The understanding that what we have tried in the past worked then, but we need to look towards the future and move forward towards true equality, true reproductive freedom and choice. I met a lot of amazing women and made connections that will surely move mountains on the path towards reproductive honesty.

I have had more opportunities and exposure to true feminist collaboration, ideas, concepts and teamwork in the past 4 months then I have in the last 10 years, and it has been both overwhelming and amazing. It has really got me thinking about a lot of different issues that women have to face and deal with, how different organizations tackle those issues (or don’t), the role of for-profit corporations in these issues, how organizations working towards the same goals (at least on the surface) often work against each other for many reasons… and a lot of other complicated issues.

These issues are ones that I hope to continue to muse upon and give light to, with you, over the next year and hopefully many more years to come. When I started this blog a year ago, I did it because I was so inspired by Obama’s Presidential campaign in 2008. The campaign lit a political fuse inside me that had been dormant for quite some time. It was always there, as I have always been interested in different social action issues, and I had done a lot of perfunctory volunteer work. But the Obama campaign really did something to me. I got actively involved in the campaign, holding 8 weeks of telephone banking, making flyers, registering voters, and knocking on doors. After Obama won the election, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I knew my work was not done– not by a long shot.

And then Dr. Tiller was murdered. And I was sucked into mourning, grief, anger and action. After organizing a Vigil for Dr. Tiller, I found myself frequently commenting on other social action blogs. I have always been a writer myself, privately. After a few months of this kind of involvement, I was struck by *whatever* and, over the July 4th holiday last year, was inspired to start Righteous Mom.

So thanks for sticking it out with me over this past year! It has been a lot of fun, and a learning experience. I have enjoyed getting to know some of you readers, and hearing all of your own commentary. I love learning this way, from others, and I hope you continue to enjoy rm!

The issues that I write about, I do so because I have a passion about them, I get fired up, I need to vent, teach, explain, learn. The emotions I feel serve me well on many of different issues I pay attention to.

However, I have avoided writing anything on the topic of the oil spill. It seems that, as far as this absolute disaster goes, my emotions are getting in the way of clear thinking. I usually try to distill my emotions and use them to find the lesson or pass on knowledge. I am having an extremely difficult time in doing so with this.

It keeps me up at night (among other things). I have stayed abreast of all the latest information. I know what is going on down there, I understand the issues. But I can’t talk about the F-ing Oil Spill without getting very worked up and lost in feeling. I feel panic and anxiety coming on.

You know what kills me? I don’t give a damn what your politics are. I really really don’t. This “spill” (which is a joke– it’s a bleeding, an opening of the Earth, a disensoulment) doesn’t belong to any one person (besides the f-ers who ignored safety violation upon safety violation in the name of greed). We MUST come together and get this FIXED. End of story.

Please, just fix it. I can’t take another story about burning sea turtles alive, dead whales or roving dolphins searching for a home. I can’t take any more of the pictures of the birds, the fish.

The people. God, the people whose lives have been ruined by this. Absolutely destroyed. Generations upon generations will have to find a way to live with the results of this catastrophe. We can’t even begin to fathom what the long term affects will be.

Have you seen the rain in Louisiana? It used to be beautiful. Now, it’s raining oil. What tragic symbolism for the greed of this nation.

You all know I love to read. Read read read I love to read. So I was both thrilled and humbled when I was asked to read the first draft of a new murder mystery, written by local authors Kevin and Jennifer Lill.

The new book, The Sleep of Souls, is set sometime in the near-future in Detroit. Harry Anderson is a psychology professor who finds himself embroiled in a classic whodunnit mystery, albeit with an updated and modern techno-twist. The prologue (which can be read here) sets the stage for a story with twists and turns that you don’t see coming.

This was really a thrilling experience for me because, if I can toot my own horn here, I was the first person to read the completed first draft (second only to the authors themselves). What a treat for an avid reader like myself to get to experience a story in a very raw and living-and-breathing way. What I mean by that is, I was able to read this book while it is growing, literally while the story is still feeling its way around for its organic roots and ends. And I was able to be a part of that growth! After I completed the novel (which I devoured– I read it in 2 days), I sat down with the authors to go over my notes on the story. We went through, literally page by page, and I got to express my feelings about the characters, what I felt was real, what might be a bit unbelievable, what moved me and where I saw holes that needed to be filled. This process was so much fun! Kevin and Jennifer took all my notes, and before my very eyes we went through together to outline a second draft, chapter by chapter. Ohhh my dork juices were flowing with excitement! And inspiration! I have always wanted to write my novel– I think it’s safe to say that I have certainly been inspired to start!

I can’t wait to read the second draft, and watch as this novel takes on its own life. Because it most certainly will. I have no doubt that, in about a year, murder mystery fans everywhere will be lined up at a local Barnes and Noble, waiting in line to have the Lills autograph their copy of The Sleep of Souls.

You can find more information on the book here: www.thesleepofsouls.com.
Also, become a fan on Facebook to follow the authors and their journey here: The Sleep of Souls Facebook Fan Page!

There is a meditation that I like to do, and I have been finding myself turning to it more and more. It is by Deepak Chopra, and throughout the meditation he reminds me “everyone is doing their best from their state of consciousness.” This reminder has helped me attempt to make sense of some of the more painful and hurtful relationships I have found myself, regrettably, involved in. Another saying I have heard repeated is something along the lines of a person’s perception is their reality. True, to an extent, I believe this to be. And yet, what happens when that other person’s perception is so warped, so out of line and misplaced, that it seeks to harm most and trap others? Sad, really. I trust that most will see the truth in most situations. Happily, this has turned out to be the case. With each setting of the moon, I come closer to that truth, and it feels good. I know I am not alone.

*********************************************************

Friday, my best friends came “to our rescue.” Simply put: they came over to our house, bringing dinner supplies with them, and cooked. Yet, together, we were able to make a meal. Breaking bread together, laughing, helping each other through our individual dramas simply by being present with each other. A beautiful thing, really.

Best Friends. Really, what does this mean? More then what it did when I was in 5th grade, that is for sure. It has taken time to learn what true friendship is, and until it is modeled to you, with you, something you are a part of, you probably don’t really understand. Sometimes, you think you have friends, but maybe they turn out to be mere “acquaintances.” Or rather, people who found it to be convenient to be friendly with you, to you. A passing relationship. A contract, I like to think, you needed to fulfill. If you take the time necessary, you learn from these relationships. It is my belief that every single relationship, every person we relate to, is “meant to be.” You just need to be open to the lesson. It can be very painful, but it is necessary. Otherwise the pain, without the lesson, at least for me, is unbearable.

Saturday I was able to spend a good deal of time with some of the most amazing women I have the honor of calling “friends.” We don’t get to see each other very often, as we are all in different places in our lives, so when we get together it is always a treat. We have a special bond that goes beyond a normal friendship– we met doing the very difficult, heart work we all believe in, and we stay bonded through the trials and tribulations that we survived, and the strength and comfort we found in each other. It is a special kind of “club” and we toasted to our success. That felt really great. These days, finding something to be excited about and feel community over has been difficult, but not impossible. It has made moments like this even sweeter. And my new community is one that is true, honest, all-accepting and loving.

When you go through difficult times, there is a tendency for the true nature of people to come out. This applies, really, to everyone. Families grow stronger, or tear apart, friendships break or bloom. I have been a part of all of the above, and hope for the rest of us to have as positive an experience as I have, overall.

I really do have much to be grateful for. In between the heartaches and struggles, life is beautiful. Cliche? Whatever. I believe it to be so. The special moments I am able to carve out of the mundane– these have been my favorite. I am so lucky to be able to have this time with my son, my husband, to be searching myself for the truth of things, to explore my own potentials and limits.

My most favorite Deepak meditation states, “Every decision I make is a choice between a grievance and a miracle. I relinquish all regrets, grievances and resentments and choose the miracle.”

This is how I live my life. And I am so so grateful for that.

Last year at this time I was reeling, along with many many others. I remember the phone call I received on May 31st 2009, to give me the news that Dr. Tiller had been murdered in his church. I could not believe it. I vacillated between disbelief, anger, shock and back again. Over and over and over the feelings waved onto me.

This lasted for a good month, if not longer. And what I know is that, were it not for the amazingly supportive prochoice community I find myself a part of, I would not have made it through the grief intact. The most difficult part was that my closest friends and family (who are not so involved in choice issues) could not grasp what I was feeling. My husband was very confused. He understood why I was upset, but he couldn’t grasp the depth of my grief. Lucky for me, I was still working in the clinic and found the support I so desperately needed– that we all so desperately needed. We leaned on each other, told stories about having met Dr. Tiller, and all the great work he did. We told our own stories about helping women. We sat in silence.

I was terrified. I used to go into work very early in the morning by myself. And for several weeks, I was very nervous about going in to work.

And I was pissed. LIVID. That they could do this to us. That they could take this man away from the world. That they could rock my world so wholly and completely. That they could make me feel unsafe in the most loving place I had ever been to.

I turned to the online community in a big way. I became obsessed with information on the murder. Because eventually, people went back to life as usual. But I couldn’t see how that was possible. And I didn’t think the response was big enough. People were just going to let this go. As long as I found support with people who were still talking about it, I could heal.

All over the country, people mourned for this man that literally saved women’s lives. But nothing was happening in Michigan. Not one vigil, not one memorial service. People were scared. Planned Parenthood was scared. MARAL no longer existed. There was no one to organize a vigil.

So I did. I found support through a feminist student group at my alma matter, the University of Michigan. Together we secured the Diag as the space for our vigil. I contacted every group I could think of, made a flyer, and wrote a ceremony. We gathered, shared, spoke, and supported. And together, we heal and move forward.

In honor of Dr. Tiller, I repost the ceremony here again. This blog started on the 4th of July, 2009, with the Dr. Tiller vigil. Here we remember him, a year after his murder. you are not forgotten, Dr. Tiller.

CANDLELIGHT VIGIL TO HONOR AND CELEBRATE DR. GEROGE TILLER
 
OPENING AND WELCOME:
 
Good evening, and welcome everyone.  We have come together tonight to find comfort in each other… to mourn… grieve… honor… and celebrate the life of Dr. George Tiller. 
 
Dr. Tiller was assassinated on Sunday May 31st while serving as an usher in his church… He was targeted because of his unwavering commitment and passionate belief in providing abortion services to women from all over the country. 
 
Tonight I am honored to welcome Rabbi Robert Levy, from Temple Beth Emeth on Packard Road, to come forward and offer the opening blessing… 
 
 
Thank you Rabbi Levy. 
 
All of us know of Dr. Tiller as a man who was dedicated to kindness… courtesy… justice… love… and respect.  We all know that he provided women and families who found themselves in unthinkable situations with a last resort—a late term abortion with compassion and love.  Dr. Tiller was a rare gem, a man who understood deeply the complexity of an abortion decision, and who ministered to the hearts and souls of women. 
 
But Dr. Tiller was not just that.  He was a husband…a father…a grandfather and a dear friend to many.  He was a veteran – a US Navy flight surgeon.  When he was young he wanted to be a dermatologist.  But life had different plans for Dr. Tiller.
 
Dr. Tiller’s father, a family physician, his mother, sister and brother-in-law were killed in a plane crash in 1970… Dr. Tiller went back to Wichita to run his father’s office before closing it down to pursue dermatology.  It was then that he learned from his patients that his father had been performing illegal abortions for women who needed them…Dr. Tiller decided to keep his father’s office open.  In 1973, after Roe v Wade was passed, Dr. Tiller began performing abortions. 
 
I would now like to welcome Renee Chelian, Executive Director of Northland Family Planning Centers, to come forward and speak.  Renee was a friend of Dr. Tiller’s and a cofounder of the Abortion Care Network (formerly the National Coalition of Abortion Providers) with Dr. Tiller.  I would like her to share some of her own stories about Dr. Tiller as a man, and the spirit in which he served his patients.
 
RENEE:
There are so many things I want to say here tonight.  I am honored to have known and been a friend of George Tillers for 30 years.
 
Being an abortion provider and in my case, an activist as well, carries a host of blessings and challenges –that is what makes it compelling and wonderful and the life work that I and many others have chosen. We are privileged to serve, care for and be constantly challenged by very complex patients at very complex points in their lives–we move on the edges of life and death and when we do things well, we ease passages, provide space for transformation and second chances, provide safe haven, and treat many who have never been treated as so with dignity, respect and deep compassion.  We believe women can be trusted with the most difficult moral challenges and we live this belief every day. Dr. Tiller lived by and recited many axioms and one of the many was TRUST WOMEN.  In fact at Dr. Tiller’s funeral, next to a large portrait of him, was a wreath with a banner that read “TRUST WOMEN.”  (Point to button)
 
My daughter Lara and I attended the funeral.  I would like to share with you a bit of the Man —George Tiller – as we experienced him at his funeral.  

As we pulled up to the church, not the one he was killed in but the large one that always had a service for patients and volunteers when his clinic was the target of ”operation rescue” summers of terror, we saw about 50 Patriot guards lining the streets with their gleaming motorcycles and large American Flags flying.  They did not care one way or another about the abortion issue, but Dr. Tiller was a United States Navy Veteran and they were there to help honor him and keep protestors away.  There were also about 100 volunteers lining the streets with bright blue shirts on that read ‘National Organization for Women’ on the front and on the back ‘ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING’, a very favorite saying of Georges –separating media and possible protestors.  When we entered the church we were given long stem white carnations, as a sign of Hope and Love. 
 
We got there early because a crowd of more than 1,000 were expected.  Lara and I got separated from the friends we walked and while we were not happy about being separated from close friends we could grieve with, we stayed put.  To my left were 3 kids roughly between 16 and 19 years of age.  I leaned over and politely asked them if they knew Dr. Tillers family.  The oldest one spoke and said “No Ma’am, we are members of his congregation.” I said “I am so sorry that you all had to witness something so horrible and tragic”.  He told me that his younger sister was standing very near Dr. Tiller and had seen the entire thing, she and her family are in counseling and they would in time, heal.  I told him I was so sorry again, and introduced myself and told him where I was from and why I was there.  He seemed shocked that I had traveled so far.  I pointed out some friends and the distant cities they had traveled from.  About 10 minutes later he tapped me on the shoulder and said” Dr. Tiller was a kind and good man.  I don’t know much about abortion but I know that if he did them, there was a reason and I hope that you do not quit what you do because of what happened here”.  Another 10 minutes and the lady behind me tapped me on the shoulder and essentially gave me a prayer for safety and the same encouragement and thanked me for coming, apparently having spoken with the 3 kids next to me. 

I saw Lara engaged in a conversation with the woman next to her. Lara told me she had told her that ”she did not know if she belonged there or not, but Dr. Tiller had done an abortion for her–when she was suicidal a number of years ago.  She was now healthy and had recently adopted a little girl.  She told Lara that Dr. Tiller had not only saved her life but that her present life, including being a mother, was only possible because of his compassion.  Lara told her that she belonged at this church service as much as anyone who knew him well—–she was the reason he chose his life work.  Before we left the church I heard her tell Lara, I don’t believe that it was an accident that we sat together and she wished us many blessings.
 
The family decided to keep this service about George the man, not the doctor.  His best friend of 50 years, Larry, made us laugh and cry as he told personal stories of their long friendship as boys, men and as married couples. I would like to repeat 2 of those as I think they really illustrate George, the man.  
 
1.  When George was living in student housing with his wife Jeanne, they got on their bicycle and rode about an hour to where ever Larry and his wife lived.  When they arrived, the surprised couple met them at the door and joyously told them” we are so glad you came over we have good news to share”.  They told the Tillers that they were expecting their first child and the 4 spent the day together celebrating and dreaming. 
The next morning the Tillers got on their bicycles and rode the hour again and rang the doorbell.  When Larry and his wife let them in, the Tillers said “we have good news to share also” we are expecting our first baby.  Larry explained to us that they never let on that first day as they did not want to diminish the joy of their friends; they let them have their day and came back the next to share their own happy baby news.
I don’t know about any of you but that made me really think of how I wanted to BE with other people for the remainder of my life.
 
2   The second was when Larry lost his job in the 90′s and told George I lost my job and don’t know what I will do.  George told him, you will find another job but don’t take the first one–take the best one.  Then George told him that he was now assigned Federal Marshall 24 hour protection, and he lived with it for more than 3 years, He said Larry you have lost your job and I have lost my freedom. Larry told the gatherers “today George is a free man”.
 
Larry finished his eulogy with these words “Dear God, get heaven ready, because Mr. Enthusiasm is coming.  Heaven will never be the same.”
 
His four children all spoke, each telling a different story about their dad. Before they began they gave a big group hug and after each one finished, they did another group hug.
 
One told of letters he had written her while she was growing up, and read one that was particularly moving.  She had lost a race at 13 years old and was pretty upset. She read
“I am proud of the ways you handled yourself—no whining or complaining today.  One race does not spoil the entire racing season.  Remember, nobody wins all the time, not Dad, not Mom.
Be gracious in victory, never arrogant. Share the credit and the praise. And the sting and the loneliness and the depression of defeat or setback will be less severe. Because the friends with whom you have shared the good times will not abandon you in the bad times.  Love dad and underlined several times
 
One daughter told us of their shared “warped sense of humor”, action movies and especially Star Trek. She read from a poster he bought her of Star Trek axioms as he told her “read these every day before you go out and you will be successful in life”.
 
The third daughter told of the prior week vacation to Disney world with George, Jeanne and her husband and children. How much fun he was and what a geeky kind of grandpa and tourist he enjoyed being.  She also told us a story about how he shared some life lessons with her recently.
 
He said “life is like an Impressionist painting. When you are up close to it, it can be confusing and not make any sense. ……Only when you stand back from it can you see the broad, masterful strokes of the artist.  And then he laughed at himself, she said.
 
After her father’s death and the out pouring of condolences, sympathy and stories, she said ” I thought, Well if life is a painting, then dad, you’re the artist.  As I look out on you today—all of you, in many colors—I see all the brush strokes, I see all the dots.  I see all the people, the color, the canvas of my dad’s life.  I can stand back from it and I can see the plan. I can see the whole picture.  He really did paint an incredible masterpiece, and it’s you.  It’s all of you. You are my dad’s living masterpiece.
 
George’s son, Maury, the son of his sister who he and Jeanne had  adopted when his mother and father along with Dr Tiller’s mother and father were killed in a plane crash when he was one year old was the only one of his children  who made reference to how George died.  He said
 
“I struggle with the manner in which he was welcomed into heaven. I believe that God decided you have done everything I asked a person to do here on earth.  Now I will show the world what a loving, compassionate, courageous, selfless man you are. And so it happened.”  He said “his dad was in a much safer place now, where he can see his family every day. You cannot see him with your eyes but if you close your eyes and take a deep breath, you feel him right next to you”. But please, don’t do this while you are driving.” 
This kind of statement seemed so “Tiller children”. 
 
The emotional high point came near the end of the service when Jeanne Tiller stood before the gathering and sang the “The Lord’s Prayer” in a strong unwavering voice dedicating it to “the love of my life and my best buddy”. 
 
As we sat for lunch with the 1000 or so family, friends and colleagues –on big screens were power point pictures of George from a child all thru his life complete with his 10 beloved grandchildren. 
 
Several of us, who though we knew him so very well, were blown away by this extraordinary family and really how little we knew of so many parts of his life.  It seems that he was teaching us yet another lesson. One lawyer friend of many of ours remarked “I really need to get a life” Dr. Tiller lived as fully with his family as he fully worked with his patients.
 
George was really PRESENT with anyone he spoke with.  His attention or eyes did not wander.  He asked questions and listened to your answers.  He was or seemed genuinely interested, even telling a new employee of a friend recently that as she answered the phones in the clinic she worked in to remember that she had the most important job in the clinic as she was the first person to be able to help women who were calling looking for their help.
He really listened to people because he cared and then he often shared one of his famous axioms. I will try hard to remember this lesson and live my life in the PRESENT with my friends and loved ones. 
 
SO
How do we make sense of this horrible event? It is my job to help navigate the hardest things…..to frame them in some way we can respond, get better, and grow through our challenges. But I cannot make sense of this. I am heartbroken. Part of this is the violent way in which he was killed. I am sure anyone who loses someone suddenly to violence feels there is no sense to it, no good. This is magnified by Dr. Tiller’s real work with patients, his leadership and courage for all of us. But does this mean we are without hope, the ability to take action, a path of direction.  NO. Absolutely Not.
 
Why do we do this work? Why are we abortion providers? Abortion is about the reality. There is nothing theoretical about being faced with the decision to terminate a pregnancy.  Dr. Tiller lived this reality and he said OFTEN and so very beautifully:
 
 ”Abortion is not a cerebral or a reproductive issue. Abortion is a matter of the heart. For until one understands the heart of a woman, nothing else about abortion makes any sense at all.”
 
I have heard many times —and this message was reinforced in the tone of the media coverage immediately following Dr Tillers murder.–that the risk of violence comes with the territory of being an abortion provider. I do not accept this.  
I will live with it–as do the incredible people around the world who work in abortion care, at much higher risk than I do every day. But, I do not accept that this risk comes with the territory. I do not accept that I have become an unwilling expert in combating domestic terrorism, that my gut instincts are so finely honed doe to a concerted expenditure of effort and energy and fear.  I do not accept that this is our lot. I challenge this expectation and I ask you to do the same.  I can live with it, but I cannot accept it.
 
This is often –incorrectly –framed as a war. This thing is –in a war both sides have weapons. Our only weapons are dedication, knowledge, courage, compassion, trust, justice, and dignity–the bedrock’s of care Dr. Tiller preached to us.
 
How did we end up here?  We are health care providers already signed up to do something complicated and difficult without the threat of violence lurking. We ended up here because a concerted, real effort on the parts of thousands of people who mask benignly under the guise of being “prolife” as they proliferate violence with constant threats, the dehumanization of all of us who work in abortion care, funding activity that goes far beyond simple, legal and harmless protest.
 
But I believe that goodness will reign-that this outrage will spark change.  I believe in the possibility of 45 million women, and their partners, living in the United States who have had an abortion sharing their story and breaking their unspoken code of silence. I believe in each of you here tonight, honoring Dr. Tiller.  I believe in humanity, just like Dr Tiller did–and that is why I am an abortion provider.
 
I want to thank all of you for coming tonight and thank you Jennifer for organizing this event. It would not have happened in Michigan, had you not almost single handed, followed your heart, stepped up and did the right thing to honor George Tiller
 
 
 
…………………………………………………..
Thank you, Renee.
 
It is important to say out loud that we understand the full target of the bullet that killed Dr. Tiller.  That bullet was not only meant to kill Dr. Tiller, but to intimidate…terrorize… and silence all who work for reproductive rights.  Tonight we break that silence.  Tonight we are here to say out loud that we will not be terrorized, and we will not be intimidated. 
 
But most importantly we will not be silent. 
 
In the United State since 1973 there have been more then 45 million women who have chosen to have safe, legal abortions.  They have received excellent care from physicians like Dr. Tiller and have done the best they know how to for themselves and their families.  Yet they are silent.  What does it take to keep 45 million women, and their families and partners, their significant others and friends, silent?  They have to spend millions and millions of dollars to shame us.  To tell us we are murderers over and over until we almost believe it ourselves.  It is time to break the silence.  Speak out to someone you love.  Tell someone “I had an abortion.”………I had an abortion, and I am not ashamed of my decision…and I will always protect the rights of women to choose. 
 
I would like to invite Lara Chelian to come forward and share with us a poem.  
An Open Letter to 21 Million Women by B.J. Isaacson-Jones ( 1988 )
Where are you?

For over 16 years we have provided

you with choices

Painful choices

I remember—
I sometimes cried with you.

Choices, nevertheless, when you were desperate.
 
Remember how we protected your privacy

and treated you with dignity and respect

when you

were famous

had been brought to us in shackles

with an armed guard, or

were terrified

that you would run into

one of your students?

I remember each of you.
 
Our clinic was firebombed.

Do you recall?

Exhausted and terrified we had

been up all night.

We rerouted you to another clinic

because you wanted an abortion that day.

Where are you?
 
Priding ourselves on providing abortions for

those who cannot pay, we have spent millions

of dollars that we never really

had caring for you. We wanted

to give a choice.

I also gave you cab fare and

money for dinner from my own pocket.

Have you forgotten?
 
I remember you cried and asked me how

you could carry this pregnancy to term when

you

were abusing the children you had,

were having an affair,

tested positive for AIDS,

could not handle another,

were raped by your mother’s boyfriend,

pregnant by your father and

shocked and torn apart when

your very much wanted and loved

fetus was found to be

severely deformed.
 
Your mother picketed our clinic

regularly. We brought you in after dark.

Have you mustered the courage

to tell her that you are pro-choice?

You are.

Aren’t you?
 
I recall shielding your shaking body, guiding you

and you husband through the picket lines.

They screamed adoption, not abortion!

You wondered how you could explain your

choice to your young children.
 
You broke our hearts.

You had just celebrated your twelfth birthday

when you came to us. You clutched

your teddy bear, sucked your thumb

and cried out for your mom who asked

you why you had gotten yourself pregnant.

You replied that you just wanted to be grown.

You’re twenty today.

Where are you?
 
I pretend I don’t know you in the market,

at social gatherings and on the street.

I told you I would.

After your procedure you told me that you would

fight for reproductive choices (parenthood,

adoption, and abortion) for your mother, daughters,

and grandchildren. You will . . . won’t you?
 
I have no regrets. I care about

each and every one of you and

treasure all that you’ve taught me.

But I’m angry. I can’t do this alone.

I’m not asking you to speak about your abortion, but

You need to speak out and you need to speak

out now. Where are you?
 
……………………………………………….
Thank you, Lara.
 
 
By now we all understand the power of silence.  Let us take that power back and use it to heal our hearts and reflect on the courageous life of Dr. George Tiller.  For the next 2 minutes, let us observe a time to silently reflect and honor Dr. Tiller.  At the end of our silent reflection, I will invite everyone back for a closing prayer.
 
2 MINUTES SILENCE.
 
I would like to end this service with a few of Dr. Tiller’s own words, and a prayer.
 
In 2001 Dr. Tiller said, “This battle is about self-determination by women of the direction and course of their lives and their family’s lives.  Abortion is about women’s hopes and dreams.  Abortion is a matter of survival for all women.”
 
In his own words:
“I am a woman educated physician…  I have been given the gifts of understanding from women who have had terminations of pregnancy.  Abortion is about a woman’s hopes, dreams, potential… the rest of their lives.  We expect our daughters to be dynamic, bright, growing, aggressive women.  What sense does it make to tell you that you’re not smart enough, because that’s what it is; you’re not smart enough to make a decision about the rest of your life.  Abortion is not a reproductive issue.  It is a matter of the heart.  Until you understand the heart of a woman, let me say that again, until you understand the heart of a woman, nothing else makes any sense about abortion at all.”
 
In closing, I would like to invite Kimberly Leung to read a prayer written by Reverend Rebecca Turner, executive director of Faith Aloud.  Faith Aloud is the religious and ethical voice for reproductive justice. 
 
Blessed be our numb spirits.
Blessed be our aching hearts.
Blessed be our fearful journeys.
Blessed be our happy memories.
Blessed be our loving families.
Blessed be our wounded dreams.
Blessed be our enduring friendships.
Blessed be our tearful disappointments.
Blessed be our righteous outrage.
Blessed be our courageous mission.
Blessed be our unwavering commitment.
Blessed be the women of the world.
Blessed be the legacy of Dr. George Tiller.
AMEN.
 
I want to thank Rabbi Levy for opening our vigil with the blessing.  Thank you to Renee and Lara Chelian for sharing with us tonight.  I also want to thank from the bottom of my heart Kimberly Leung and Ruthi Hortsch from The F-Word, a student feminist organization on campus.  We would literally not be standing here if it were not for them and I thank you for your dedication.
 
I would welcome you to stay and find comfort in each other.  We do have permission to gather here on the diag until 9:30pm, so let’s take advantage of it.  I have handouts on what you can do to help; there is a Dr. Tiller Fund.  Also there is information about the Abortion Care Network’s “Enough! Basta! Stop Sidewalk Bullying at Women’s Clinics” Campaign.