This week Guiding Star blogger, Chaunie Brusie shares some of her experiences of being pregnant and not married. Her experiences support a comment I read from someone who worked at a crisis pregnancy center. The worker stated that it usually isn’t too difficult to convince someone who isn’t religious not to abort, because what most women want and need is support to carry the child to term. If we can offer practical support, they are relieved at being able to keep their child. For teens and young women who have a religious upbringing however,they are more difficult to convince. They know it’s a child, but they are terrified of the shame and judgement they may face. Guiding Star has fans and supporters of various religious backgrounds (and non-religious), and it is our hope that people of all belief-systems will encourage and celebrate the potential and dignity of every new life, because the truth is, one can’t be both pro-life and be judgmental of unwed mothers.
Throughout my pregnancy, I struggled so much with feeling like I was being judged by other people throughout my pregnancy, especially at church. Like a scarlet letter, I felt like my pregnant belly stuck out like a giant reminder of my sin, an open invitation for others to assume that they knew just what type of girl I was.
Try as hard as I might, for a girl that was so used to being the “good girl” and being judged for my smarts and my impressive extracurricular activities and my seemingly perfect life, nothing could overcome what I felt was the stigma of walking around with that belly, especially sans ring on my left hand.
But around Christmastime, just when I was starting to pop and feeling particularly sorry for myself, Ben and I went to a Christmas Mass and the priest gave an entirely different sort of talk that night.
That night, sneaking a few direct looks at me, although I may or may not have met his eyes, it felt like he was addressing me with a speech he gave about how, although God could have chosen any way to bring his son into the world, he chose one woman–
One, young, poor, unmarried woman.
And I realized in that moment, that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. It didn’t matter if people nudged each other and whispered when I walked by; it didn’t matter if people thought I was a person of illicit morals.
I realized that Mary (no matter your beliefs on her or not, imagine this scene with me) must have felt the same way I did–slowly picking her way to the water hole, indignantly holding her head up while the elders of the village shook their heads at her.
The judgement, the stares, the feelings of shame–those didn’t matter.
What mattered was between me and my God, and the message I heard loud and clear?
Keep your judgements to yourself.
photo credit: Helga Weber via photopin cc