Please also see, "On Being Dissected: 'The Pregnancy Cult' Reaction."

 Today, I am going to my 24-week appointment with one of the most respected doctors in the area and who my husband and I just love. She sweeps in and out of the room with brazen honesty, helping her patients through the progression to labor and delivery, and manages to keep a keen wit. She routinely jokes with me and my husband about putting up the stirrups and leaving us for a bit to have some fun. She is definitely our kind of doctor.

This pregnancy, compared to that of my son four and half years ago, is remarkably different. Aside from the horrible home life, my prenatal care was disastrous. I, maybe, had two doctors’ appointments that entire ten, yes TEN, months I was pregnant with my son. I struggled to get on Medicaid, but then found I had chosen the “wrong” Medicaid type and had no doctors to see in the state. I didn’t eat right, as there was no food in the house except for Fritos and bags and bags of candy bars. I wasn’t allowed out to the store. It was just a nightmare. The one bizarre half-blessing was “The Pregnancy Cult.” It was also known as The Pregnancy Resource Center.

For those not in the know, along side family planning clinics, such as Planned Parenthood, there is usually another office in the same building with a similar name. It is intentionally placed there to lure in unsuspecting preggos looking for abortions. These parallel clinics look on the outside like any good old Planned Parenthood, but they are run by avidly pro-life religious consortiums. They offer a broad spectrum of services and free goods, but are only available for unplanned pregnancies.

When I found this online, I decided to scam the pregnancy cult for all they were worth. I went in, faking that my pregnancy was accidental. I took a simple out-of-the-box pregnancy test and was immediately taken upstairs for an ultrasound. For the uninitiated – this is the part where they try to show you the baby’s eyes, toes, lungs, heart, etc in order to convince you to keep the baby. I, of course, had no plans to abort, especially as I was at 24 weeks. My ex-husband sat there with me, uncomfortably shifting in his seat as the Christian music blared in the background. That is when and where I found out I was having a boy.

After a suitable time of oo-ing and aw-ing over the ultrasound pictures, I had a “counseling session.” They gauged my belief in God, which was confusing to them to no end. Then, I was ask – do you feel safe in your home environment. I suddenly had that moment, where I knew this was my way out. I answered honestly – “No, it’s not safe. My husband is a fucking psychopath, and I need out.” This apparently was not the usual answer. I would love to tell you that the church group whisk me away to a safe place and got me and my unborn child away from that monster, but alas, no. I was given a lecture of wifely responsibilities and duties. I was told that I obviously was at fault for not letting him lead, and I was somehow aggressively subjugating his masculinity. I felt defeated, but this still seemed like a small escape to my otherwise closed-in and closely monitored existence.

I was given a schedule. I would come back every week for a three-hour session. I would watch videos on childbirth and pregnancy for an hour and a half, then I would be cornered in a small room with two lovely Christian ladies who would then tell me what a horrible person I was for being in such a marriage where I refused to accept my husband’s ruling with an iron fist. "Spare the rod and spoil the child is meant for the wife as well in some more difficult cases," they said. I was routinely told that if I did not accept Jesus Christ as my savior I would go to hell no matter how I had lived my life or what good deeds I did. For each session, I would get points. The points led to baby items. I was determined to get a pram (a stroller that is more for infants and kind of old fashioned).

I went through each session with a smile. After the first two months, they became increasingly frustrated at my stubborn refusal to admit I was my husband’s servant for eternity and that I had a relationship with God. Suddenly, I started to get worried – what if they wouldn’t give me my pram? I had wracked up more than enough points, but they just weren't happy with my "spiritual progress" and "motherly assetts," which seems to be the same thing. I would even take a walker or colorful mat for tummy time, but I was not spending my time being berated for nothing.

 On the upside – I went into labor feeling uber-prepared. I had watched enough videos on it, to feel I knew exactly what I was getting into. Between the pregnancy cult and the Health channels on cable, I was so ready.

I did everything their way. And, I even went to a car seat class they sponsored and got a free government-issued car seat, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted something tangible that I felt I had earned for all my efforts. After my son was born and after several attempts to claim the said pram, I had my mom drive me by their offices, and I threw a fit. Right there, out in the lobby waiting area. I also managed to get three of the young women, no more than 16 years old, to leave the waiting room, which they had mistaken for the Planned Parenthood next door. And, I got my pram damnit. Under the Director’s breath, I heard her call my outburst “un-Christian.” I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.

 I'm so excited to visit my doctor today, knowing there will be no videos to watch, no indoctrination speeches, no berating or belittling, no defending myself, but sitting there with my husband and my four year old as we get to listen to the heartbeat of the little one and know - that we're all ok, just as we are. And, my doctor will laugh and smile and crack jokes as she gives out advice on hospitals and birth plans today.