But here is my story. Somehow, it doesn't quite fit what I'm sure your definition of a slut is.
21 years ago I went through an experience that I would never wish on anyone. I'll never forget the events of March 1 and 2, 1991 for as long as I live.
My husband and I found out in late November of 1990 that I was pregnant for a second time. Our first child, a son, was two and a half, a good age for having a brother or sister, we thought. A few weeks after finding out about the pregnancy, the doctor decided that since our son was born six weeks early, I should have an ultrasound to determine the fetal age. During that ultrasound it was discovered that there wasn't just one baby, but two. I was going to have twins.
The news took us by surprise, but we were happy that at Christmas we could tell our families there would be twins coming in July. For the next two months things seemed to be going well.
But then things started to go wrong.
Follow me below the squiggle if you so desire. I may get a little explicit about things, but when the government starts wanting to get up into my vagina, I can't help but get explicit.
The last week in February, I was working on a big presentation that was to be given on March 1. The big guys from Japan were going to be coming to our office to get the status of our project directly from the engineers doing the work.
For a few days I thought that the stress was causing me to feel a little off, that after the presentation my pregnancy would get back to 'normal', at least normal for twins.
The day of the presentation, my husband had to get up early and head for the state capitol, as he was going to represent the union position on some upcoming legislation that was being voted on. I went to work and prepared for the big meeting. After introductions, I began to feel that something was extremely wrong, and soon I could no longer ignore what I was feeling. I had to get up and leave the room in the middle of the speech being given by the head Japanese guy. When I got to the restroom and investigated, I didn't need a doctor to know that what I was seeing was cause for alarm. I was bleeding, but not the bright red or even a dark red that you might expect. No, this was black, ugly stuff, and I knew that my babies and I were in trouble.
Upon leaving the restroom, I signaled to one of the administrative assistants and told her what was happening. She was kind enough to call my sister-in-law and have her meet me at the closest clinic that was run by the HMO to which I belonged. She told me under no circumstances was I to drive, that she would call a cab to take me, and the company would pay for it. I had enough to worry about without driving.
When I got to the clinic, my sister-in-law was waiting for me. I met with the doctor for a few minutes, but then I was told to go to the hospital for a trans-vaginal ultrasound so that the doctor could determine what was happening. Before I left he told me that he was unable to detect any heartbeats.
Now I was getting really scared. When I arrived at the hospital, I had to drink about a gallon of water in order for my bladder to be large enough to help with the ultrasound. The technician tried to be as soothing as she could given what she had to do. It was the longest twenty minutes I think I have ever experienced. The rest of the day was slow as well, but not that slow, and certainly not as uncomfortable as those twenty minutes. First, there is the cold gel that was 'warmed' so as not to be too uncomfortable. Then, I began to realize that the probe was going to probe around inside every possible crevice that could be found, all to look at what was going on inside my vagina. For twenty minutes it was moved and pushed and put into places that I had not imagined it could go. All while having a gallon of water inside my bladder that I couldn't release.
About a half hour after the ultrasound was completed, I was called into the office of the doctor who had interpreted it. I'm not sure that I ever heard too much of what he had to say except for the words that both of the babies had died. The placenta hadn't properly attached properly during the early pregnancy, and as the twins had tried to grow, they just couldn't get enough nourishment because of the bad placenta. Both of our girls had starved to death.
I don't know if you can possibly imagine the horror that I felt at that moment, knowing how they had died. I slowly became aware, thanks to my SIL, that the doctor was trying to tell me more. I had two choices (choices? hah!) for going forward. One was to continue on, and hope that my body would properly miscarry. He was doubtful of this option, because he indicated that with twins, the body is more likely to keep going until full term, and for me, that would carry a huge danger of sepsis. The other option was to have a D&C, in order to remove the babies. He seemed to indicate that it wasn't really an abortion, as the babies were already dead.
All I knew was that there was no way that I could remain pregnant and wait. What had been a joyous time of my life would now be minute after minute of living hell as I continued to view my pregnant body, knowing that there would be no live birth from it. I asked how soon it could be arranged, and was told that it would need to wait until the next day, but they would work me in as quickly as they could.
My SIL took me home, made some tea, and waited with me for my dear husband to finally make it back. That night, we sat and cried, but tried to be as gentle as we could with our son. We had to tell him that he wasn't going to be able to have his sisters after all, and that Mommy had to go to the hospital the next day.
While the memory is always fresh, I've also never really talked about it since it happened. It went into a Dead Zone, if you will, where I really didn't want to remember much about it.
Now, thanks to Rush Limbaugh and his insane rantings on contraception and being sluts, and the push by so many states to forcibly rape women by ultrasound wand, this has all come flooding back.
In some states now, I might not have been able to get the option for a D&C, and I would have to go through so many hoops to be able to get it, that had I needed to do those things at the time, I might well have gone mad. It seems overly dramatic now, but I really do remember how long each minute felt after I'd been told that the girls had died.
This is why I joined the group Sluts, and this is why I fight against what is happening throughout this country where conservatives think that they know so much better than the women living through these events. Here's a clue - if you haven't had to go through this, and had to make a choice, than you don't know shit about what you're talking about.
It's none of your god-damned business what happens during someone else's pregnancy, and it's none of your god-damned business what happens in anyone else's bedroom, either. You don't like something - fine - don't do it. But don't tell anyone else that they have to follow your same moral compass.
So Rush, yes, to you I'm a slut. To any caring person on the planet, I'm someone who had to go through a tough time and make a hard decision. Get over it.