There’s this enforced idea in society that womanhood equals motherhood. That naturally down the line, every person will end up wanting to be a parent, and will eventually become one. Maybe it’s because I’m only 22 and haven’t gotten to that point yet — and maybe not — but I’ve never wanted to be a parent. I’ve never felt any sort of maternal instinct, and I’m generally very awkward around kids — I guess I’m just not great at communicating with them. It’s not that I have something against the idea of parenthood. I think all of my friends’ and cousins’ kids are adorable, and I’m totally down for being the cool (yet awkward) aunt to any of them. I’ve just never been provided with sufficient enough reason to want children or have children. I don’t believe in bringing an unwanted child into this world simply because I’m expected to do so by society. Truth be told, I’ve been freaked out by the very concept of pregnancy for a long time now, and I resolved that if I ever became pregnant while still unwilling to be a parent, I would get an abortion.
One month ago, that resolution became a reality.
I got an abortion one month ago, and with very few exceptions, I haven’t talked about it. I haven’t known how. I’ve even been advised by some family members simply not to. Writing about this, however, is not about seeking attention (or possibly forgiveness). It’s about how I heal — I heal by using my hurt to (hopefully) help others. Because the truth is, I am hurting. I always figured it would be an easy decision to make, and to an extent, it was. I don’t regret the decision at all, and I know I made the right one, but I’m still experiencing grief — grief that I put myself in the position of having to make that decision at all, and yes, grief for what could have been. I’ve never wanted to be a mother, and I recognize that at six weeks, it was not a child. But had I let it grow, it would have become one, and I can’t help but wonder what that potential child might have been like. For the most part, I try to avoid going down that road, but 2am thoughts have a way of getting to you when you stay up just a little too late. I am grieving, and I have been scared to talk about it because I feared it would be damaging to the pro-choice movement. But pro-choice is not pro-abortion, and living with consequences is a reality of being able to make a choice. The fact is, while I may be grieving, the relief and gratitude that I feel at having been able to make that choice at all when so many legislators are trying to take it away from me and people like me — I feel those ten-fold to the grief I am experiencing. I would much rather live with this grief than raise a child I never wanted in the first place. Every child deserves to be wanted, and even being pregnant was not a sufficient enough reason to me to bring a child into this world that I wasn’t ready for.
Some politicians like to take about “exceptions” when outright banning abortion. They talk about rape, abuse, lack of support, or physical danger to the person carrying the fetus (though, let’s be honest, even those aren’t exceptions for far too many ignorant men who feel they have the right to deny people with uteruses bodily autonomy). I wasn’t raped. The conception happened during enthusiastically consensual sex. I wasn’t abused. Cliff has only ever been supportive of me, and he was supportive of the decision I made as well. I had support. I never would have been able to afford an abortion (and subsequent IUD insertion) on my own, and I was financially helped by someone I love dearly (though whose identity and story is not mine to tell). My life was not in any physical danger — though it wasn’t far along at all, it was, for all we could tell at the time, a very healthy pregnancy. What it ultimately came down to was that I did not want a child. I did not want a child, and that was a valid enough reason to get an abortion.
I should not have to qualify my decision. It was mine to make. I should not have to qualify my grief. It is mine to experience. And I write this not to qualify or justify, but to reassure any other person who has been in my place, that it was your decision to make, and that whatever your choice, it was valid. Whatever your reason, it was valid. Your life, and your dreams, and hopes and aspirations matter, and you should not have to sacrifice them for a child you are not ready to have. You should not have church ladies confront you and assault you with false images outside of Planned Parenthood. It doesn’t matter if you even have someone willing to adopt — if you do not want to carry a pregnancy to term, that is your right, and your choice to make. No one else’s. You should not have old white men who know nothing about your life try to take your rights to your body and your life away from you. You don’t deserve any of that. And whatever happens after you make your choice — whether it be relief, regret, grief, joy, or nothing at all — that’s yours, too. No one gets to take that from you. No one gets to take that from us. And if I know anyone who has been through this decision — if you ever need to talk, I’m here. This was your decision to make, but you don’t have to go through it alone.
Marina's Musings 