I grew up quite defiant, fiercely independent, and an Atheist by choice throughout my teenage years. I rejected the idea of God completely. Not out of anger, but out of naive and ignorant confidence. I believed in myself. I believed in the Universe. I believed in an unseen force that silently helped me along, without rules, without judgment, without doctrine.
Hearing about God, especially when it was forced upon me unsolicited, only made me grow increasingly more resistant. When it came from people closest to me, like my mother or any other close family member, it only pushed me further away and created more distance. It felt intrusive, suffocating, and completely misaligned with who I was. I stood heavy on the fact that no “God” would ever determine my fate, other than myself.
Motherhood cracked me open.
In my early to mid-twenties, after becoming a mother to my daughter, something began to shift. Motherhood cracked me open. I became more open to spirituality. Not religion, but consciousness, energy, and the Universe itself. I immersed myself in Dr. Joe Dispenza’s work. Believing deeply in self-healing, meditation, manifestation, and the power of the mind with strong and disciplined analytical thinking. I never believed in a God, but I believed in the Universe working with me and for me. If the Universe knew I was fully dedicated to putting in the work, I would always be provided with all the tools and resources needed to succeed at whatever it may be that I was aiming towards.
However, during that same timeframe, I also became very open-minded about everything. Religion, politics, and any controversial or sensitive topic. I have always believed whatever choice someone has made within their own life has to be the right one for themselves. Therefore, who was I to judge or have an opinion, especially when it had nothing to do with me? I respected people of faith, sometimes even envied them. I used to say quite often that I wished I believed in anything as strongly as the way some people believed in God. To have that kind of devotion, faith, and certainty.
I also never really had any opinions on abortion. I knew people personally who had them, and I trusted that it was the best decision for them, even if I couldn’t understand it myself. All I knew was that it was never for me. It was never something I would choose, or a choice I would be able to make and follow through with. It wasn’t even an option for myself in my mind. Until it was.
I found out I was pregnant again.
Fast forward to thirty-years-old, in a newer relationship, I found out I was pregnant. Something I had been wishing for since my daughter, especially during this time. It was something that was actually a personal goal of mine, to hopefully have by the end of that year. After discovering my pregnancy, I felt everything all at once, as most people do. Joy, disbelief, shock, fear, gratefulness, all the feelings. After six years of solo parenting and surviving a deeply traumatic and tumultuous on-and-off again relationship with my daughter’s father who was never fully physically or emotionally present for either of us, I was terrified of the same possibility happening again. My past immediately flooded in and was coming back to haunt me in what should have been such a moment of gratitude. In the back of my mind, I knew there were options, but there was only one option for me. I never questioned the pregnancy. I believed this was my time; that was owed to me by the Universe for all it had put me through thus far. I believed I would make it work, somehow, someway.
Then everything unraveled.
Stay tuned for Part 2 next month…
* Mia is name used to protect the identity of the client and author.