Dear Michelle Duggar,
Congratulations on being pregnant with your 20th child! Not only is TLC’s 19 Kids and Counting going to have to make a third name change to keep up with you and Jim Bob, but you also have to come up with a name starting with the letter “J” that your other 19 kids and husband don’t have already! What a conundrum, Michelle! But don’t worry, I have some good suggestions:
Jewel, Jacquelyn, Jared, Jeffrey, Julie, Jamison, Joan, June, Janette, Julian, Jasmine… hell, you can even catch the whole world off guard and give it a name like Jorge, Julio, or Juanita. What a twist!
Let me tell you, Mrs. Duggar—the alliteration is the only thing that’s cute about your situation. In all seriousness, you should be ashamed that you and your husband are putting your relationships with your entire family in jeopardy.
“I know that my mommy years are probably numbered and I don’t know how many more children God will see fit to give me,” you told RadarOnline.com last May. “We asked the Lord to give us a love of children the way he loves children. That is something that we’ve prayed about and we’ll just see what the Lord has in store for our family in the future.”
Do you realize how many things are wrong with this quote? I’m going to pick this fucking paragraph apart to make it easier for you to see the stupidity of your logic.
Your mommy years aren’t numbered, Michelle. You’re 45. Your mommy years are gone. That became blatantly obvious when you nearly lost your life giving birth to your last daughter. Your body is supposed to be reaching menopause, not preparing itself to pop out more children. If an emergency C-section wasn’t performed three and a half months early, you would have died.
You suffered from gall bladder complications and preeclampsia, where your blood pressure went through the roof and protein was found in your urine. Women who have suffered this in one pregnancy run a high risk of suffering it again in another pregnancy. On top of it, women who have had multiple pregnancies vaginally may have excessive bleeding when the uterus has difficulty contracting to its normal size, which can lead to an emergency hysterectomy. At your age, gestational diabetes is also a possibility.
If your reproductive system could talk, it would be screaming, “YOU ARE DONE, BITCH!” Why are you making the conscious decision to ignore it?
And for the record, if you have a greater education beyond middle school, you would know for a fact that God doesn’t give anyone children. He doesn’t give life. Mommy and Daddy do. The only thing God is responsible for is giving you the tools necessary for giving life. Jim Bob’s sperm planting a wiggling little flag in your egg was not an act of some higher deity—it’s a biological outcome. So leaving your family planning “in God’s hands” without a decent method of birth control that’s actually been proven to work is nothing short of moronic.
Yes, Jesus does love the little children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight, states the politically incorrect song. And I would hope that as a parent, you would have a strong love of children too. But do you really?
My parents know more than my name, age, what school I’m attending and where my place of employment is. They know that I have a strong hatred for the color pink. They remember who my best friend’s friend’s cousin’s friend is, and the drama that went down between us a few weeks ago. They know I like having my bedroom door closed during the day and open at night. They know I’m deathly afraid of the little white roots that sprout out of potatoes.
They also remember a couple hundred more insignificant facts about me—facts that don’t matter to anyone else in the long run, but facts that are vital to how I go about my life day to day. Can you remember each individual child’s favorite sport? Favorite food? Celebrity crush? Michelle, can you recall each child’s health history off the top of your head? Because if you did, you would remember your daughter Josie’s health history.
She was born about fourteen weeks premature. She suffered from a bowel perforation and had to be admitted to the hospital at least twice because her vital signs failed. She was lucky that was all she suffered, but we still have to wait and see how her mental state of mind is once she begins schooling. Children born to mothers over the age of 40 have a 1-in-30 chance of being born with Down syndrome, or another chromosomal disorder. It’s hard to believe you weren’t made aware of this by a doctor at least a few years ago.
When you know full well that your future child’s health—and possibly its life—could be at risk simply because of the way your body is aging, but you decide to go ahead and put your uterus “in God’s hands” anyway, is that love? If you truly want to love a child the way God loves children, you’ll focus on the abnormally large family you already have and understand that the rest of your eggs are better left unfertilized.
Oh, and let me tell you what the Lord will have in store for you and your family if the worst should happen. Let’s pretend the same scenario with Josie happened all over again with this child—only this time, the doctors weren’t able to save your life, or Kid No. 20’s. Actually, he won’t have much in store, surprisingly.
God won’t put band-aids on cut knees. God won’t drive your kids to soccer practice or attend theatre productions. God won’t make home-cooked meals. God won’t read your kids bedtime stories. God won’t be helping with financial burdens. God won’t be sitting in the front row at your next child’s wedding. God won’t hold and kiss your children and tell them how much he loves them. God won’t be the mother your children need right here, right now. God isn’t responsible for these little simplicities that mean the world to your children. They’re not your eldest children’s responsibilities. They’re yours and Jim Bob’s, and he would have one hell of a time figuring that mess out all by himself.
I’m not one to criticize another’s religious beliefs. But when those beliefs interfere with sound logic, that’s when someone should have the balls to stand up and say, “Enough is enough.”
Here’s some sound logic for you, Mrs. Duggar: If you can afford to take care of 20 children, you and Jim Bob can afford to get him a vasectomy.
Yours most sincerely,
Sister Of One