I Vote Pro-Choice, But I’m A Personally Pro-Life Mom

pro-life momWhen I was in my early 20s, I was completely pro-choice with zero understanding of pro-lifers. Although I had women’s rights in mind, another primary, albeit callous, reason for thinking this way was because it would keep the human population in check. I also figured that if I got pregnant before I was married, I may very likely have an abortion, too.

Then it happened: I did get pregnant before I was ready.

I remember being 21 and going to the doctor thinking I had the flu. I’d been vomiting for three days straight, unable to go to work, barely able to get out of bed. I wasn’t sick, and as a last effort to diagnose me, they had me take a pregnancy test. Despite my being on birth control, I was pregnant. On my drive home, I didn’t know if I would get married to the baby’s father, go back to school or continue serving tables. But I did know that there was no way I was aborting the baby. It was just a gut feeling, a primal necessity to hold on to this little life that I was already eager to meet.

Calling my parents and telling them I was pregnant out of wedlock was the most nerve wracking thing I’ve ever done. My mom’s visceral response was a horrified gasp, and my dad’s was to ask, ”are you safe?” And being the eldest child, disappointing them was and will always be my worst nightmare (even knowing they may read this sends me into panic mode). But this is the very reason I know now that from a personal standpoint I’m pro-life. Instead of terminating the pregnancy and remaining in my parent’s good graces, I decided to keep the baby at the risk of losing my family’s respect.

Things very slowly got better. My parents even came and sat in the doctor’s office while my boyfriend and I went to our 12-week ultrasound. Once we were settled in the room, the image on the screen, an empty black hole, confused me. I thought the doctor needed to prod around more, that she just wasn’t good with the machine or something. I listened as the doctor said matter-of-factly that the embryo must not have developed. After I dressed and we left the room, my parents were smiling and awaiting good news. When I told them, their faces fell. My boyfriend and I spent the rest of the day walking around silently at the zoo, trying to make sense of our feelings.

Even though I’d never intended to be pregnant, I grieved for the lost baby and the hopes I’d had. It wrecked my relationship””my boyfriend and I broke up just months later. And it still chills me to remember the baby gifts from my sister (who had both celebrated and grieved with me): three Dr. Seuss books that I wound up donating to Goodwill.

Four years later, when I became pregnant intentionally with my husband, I could barely look at the screen at our first ultrasound for fear there wouldn’t be a baby. But there it was: a peanut with wriggly arms and legs. She was, and is, perfectly healthy, and she’s the cornerstone of our lives. The joy of my daughter and the distress of my failed first pregnancy are the reasons why I’m personally pro-life.

But here’s why I’m politically pro-choice. From a humanitarian standpoint, no human should ever be forced, especially by the government, to do something against his or her will””especially not something as life-altering as carrying and delivering a baby. Pregnancy is more than swollen ankles and awkwardly fitting clothes. It’s a reevaluation of who you are and how you fit into the world.

And childbirth is more intense than anyone can describe. My midwife, Judith, warned me early on: If you have anything traumatic in your history, it will resurface when you’re in labor. She told me of attending the birth of a sexually abused Mennonite woman who didn’t make a single noise during her long, grueling labor. Judith suspected the woman feared any loudness would unleash the pent-up horrors of her past. She recounted stories of other women whose bodies actually seemed to shut down because they so feared opening up to the pain. She saw stable women break down and become helpless little girls.

But imagine how horrifying the act of giving birth would be for a woman who didn’t want to have a baby in the first place, especially a woman who had become pregnant by abuse. Why should any human being have to have a reminder of that abuse for nine months and then, to top it off, relive the pain and anguish of it all during childbirth?

I chose not to abort my first pregnancy because I think, deep down, I wanted a baby and I knew I would be a good mother. But I’m not so brazen to assume all women feel this way. There are a million little arguments and mitigating circumstances on both sides of the abortion debate, and I’m not here to address them. Instead I hope that my story invokes a little more sympathy for this whole deal of carrying and birthing a baby. The process is felt differently for every woman, so every woman should be able to call the shots for herself.

(photo: Alexander Raths/ Shutterstock)

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