Nurturing Choice

I've heard the argument for parental notification/consent laws that reasons, "Why shouldn't the parent be involved in the daughter's life and decisions and choices?" It sounds so innocuous and Norman Rockwellian when it's stated like that, but we Abortioneers all know that sometimes it's more like, "This girl is going to be beaten into next week and into the foster care system and into teenage parenthood if lawmakers require consent/notification."

But laws and barriers to reproductive justice aside, I wanted to give a shout out to the parents of all abortion patients (not just minors) who are so involved and so loving. I've always known that if I had an abortion, my mom would be my first choice as a driver/support person. Even when I was in a long-term relationship, I would have chosen her. Above anyone else, I would want her comfort and humor and company. And I have absolutely no doubt that even if it meant taking a day off from work and driving a few hours to my city, she would be there for me.

My friend had an abortion a few years ago, and she came to my clinic with her mom in tow. She, too, had a partner, and she was well above 18, but her mom was her first choice. I could tell her mom was glad to be at her side, but it wasn't easy for her. I knew from past conversations that my friend's mom was pro-choice, and she had even had an abortion and a D&C (for miscarriage management) herself, but that day was hard for her. Although I was friends with the mom, too, I didn't delve into it, but I can only assume that her tears were from memories of her experiences or from the fierce desire to protect her daughter. But whatever baggage she carried, she was at her daughter's side, trying not to cry and trying to make the day about her adult child.

I also remember fathers of clients who were or were not required to accompany their daughters to the clinic, but who were obviously distraught. They weren't distraught because their daughters were killing their grandchildren (anti-choice rhetoric, right there), but because their daughters were faced with their first major adult decisions or because it was the first time their adult daughters had come to them for help or support. They didn't have to say what was running through their minds, but it was evident from the way they softly asked me, "How is she doing?" or implored, "Take good care of her." More than one burly man had tears in his eyes.

I've also seen a mother who accompanied her very young daughter to the clinic and whose boyfriend was responsible for the pregnancy, unbeknownst (until now) to the mother. In another case, the mother's son had brokered the rape of her daughter, also unbeknownst to the mom. Both mothers were clearly heartbroken over the complexities of the situations, as well as the implications of blame that they shouldered. In each of those cases, I made it a point to take the mothers aside and hug them and whisper simply, "You're a good mom."

Thank you, endlessly, to all of the good parents who support their daughters who chose abortion or who chose parenthood or who chose adoption. And thank you to all the parents who chose abortion, parenting, or adoption in order to give better lives to their daughters and sons.

Some details of each of these stories have been changed in order to protect client privacy.

Accidents Will Happen

Oh, Canada!

I've been enjoying one of my guiltiest pleasures, Degrassi: The Next Generation, via Netflix. Not only do I enjoy the melodrama of teenage life in Toronto, but I was also in search of the missing link: an elusive episode that addresses abortion. This episode (of course!) was not aired in the States, so I was dying to know how it went.

Manny Santos, resident grade 9 hottie, has an affair with sensitive rocker Craig Manning, and becomes pregnant. There was the obligatory misunderstanding during the liaison - he thought she was on the pill, she didn't know she could get pregnant her first time/couldn't identify a condom. Manny's BFF is Emma Nelson, know-it-all and buttinsky supreme. Emma was born when her mother was 15, so of course she is an anti because she knows that teenage pregnancy results in pleasant children like herself. Manny and Craig consider running off to start a little family; Manny is sure that her mom would exile her to the Philippines if she hung around, and Craig wants to repair his own broken home. After more consideration, however, Manny starts leaning towards abortion when she realizes she wants to fulfill all her plans for the future. I don't have a video clip of the throwdown, but it goes like this:



Manny: I can't do this. I thought I could, but having a baby now is just....
Craig: You're not making any sense.
Manny: Someday you're gonna be a great dad, and someday I hope I'll be a mom. But now, now isn't someday yet.
Craig: No. No, you're not. Manny, stop! No, I won't let you!
Manny: Please!
Emma: Craig!
Craig: Emma, you butt out! What she's doing is wrong!
Emma: I agree with you, OK? If she was just some stranger I would be furious with her, but she's my friend. And it's her choice.
Craig: It's my baby!
Emma: In Manny's body; what about her?
Manny: I just...I just...I can't.

INTENSE!

Let's rehash my favorite part: If she was just some stranger I would be furious with her, but she's my friend.

God bless that little moral crusader. Emma is just so bright and insightful. She figured it out all on her own that abortion is OK, provided that you actually know and care about the person going through it. It's just so logical!

What Emma doesn't realize, and never will because she's stubborn and a brat and super annoying, is that Manny is a stranger to someone too. Even if you are supportive, someone out there is thinking that Manny is evil and is stomping on her right to choose. But that's cool, because people should only support their friends' abortions? Being selectively pro-choice is not pro-choice! You are still a jerk, Emma! Placenta Sandwich has also addressed this issue on a post referencing the clinic scene from "If These Walls Could Talk". Jada Pinkett plays a friend escorting a patient to the clinic, but is actually stewing in her juices about having to be there.

Granted, I can't blame Emma for this poor choice of words. She is not a real person. But there are plenty of folks out there who feel similarly. I've talked to dozens of them! Women who think that abortion is wrong except when it's herself or a close friend or relative. I exhort those women to consider that all those people outside the clinic, shouting slurs and harassing you or your loved one, might as well be you. Because guess what: YOU'RE STILL AN ANTI.

I think this clip, from the original Degrassi series, handles the topic much better. Lucy, the awesome one, makes my favorite point ever: "So women are just baby factories?" Ah, feminism! TRIVIA: The spiky-haired one is Emma's mom, who admits that just because she is a teen mom doesn't mean she knows what's best for other women. Hooray!

Nightmare

I was pregnant. Really pregnant.

I had found out early in my second trimester. I was 14, perhaps 15 weeks along. I didn't get an abortion. I had to think about it first. It wasn't an issue of money; that I had. I was confused. Was it a good idea or a bad idea to carry an unwanted pregnancy? Were the antis right? Would all my fears and insecurities melt away the instant that that tiny fist clenched my pinky finger? Would my petty needs be trumped, no questions asked, by those of my unborn child? Lord knows I want children; was this a sign from above that now is the time?

All that pondering made my head spin, my heart ache, and my uterus fuller by the day. All of a sudden I was 35 weeks.

Or so I approximated. I hadn't actually seen an OB-GYN, had a sono. I had been far too busy wracking my brain to the point of exhaustion that I eventually put the whole situation out of my head. I just thought, "Gee, I sure haven't put on very much weight for being so close to term." I was pretty excited about that. Small victories in a losing battle.

So I took a camping trip. I was one with nature and distinct from my body, just the way I wanted it. I was so in tune with nature even that I attributed the water puddling between my legs to a happy, bubbling spring. Soon enough, though, the contractions kicked in and I was drop-kicked back to reality, in which I was having a baby all by myself in the woods and there was nothing I could do about it. I ran to find some other folks in the camp who had a car. I needed a lift to the hospital, but the bearded man's yellow jalopy needed a jump. After a while he got it running, barely, and we sallied forth, his cronies in tow.

Then they got hungry. They wanted to stop for drinks and a bite to eat. "You've got some time left, right?" I started to freak out. There was only one person who could really help me now. I found a cab and made the hours-long trip back home to find my mommy. I manage to make it up the stairs to her room, where she was sitting in bed with book in hand. Out of breath, but relieved to see her, I told her to get up and take me to the hospital. I was about to have a baby! She barely looked up at me.

"Sweetie, you know I didn't support your having a baby to begin with. You should have had the abortion when you had the chance." Dumbfounded! Was this my mother?! "Mom", I shouted, "it's too late for that now! The baby is coming!" Without batting an eyelash, she instructed me to go to the hospital, have the baby, and we would discuss it later. She would not take me, she would not be there. I burst into tears, shouted some more things. What was I supposed to do? I had nobody. I didn't even have $10 for a cab. I walked to the hospital, crying all the way, where I delivered a perfect little baby. I held her, and she grabbed my little finger with her whole hand. But my heart did not feel warm, my insides fuzzy. I did not smile. I could only cry.

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I sat straight up in bed, felt my belly to make sure it was still flat (relatively speaking!). Not trusting my sense of touch I proceeded to the mirror, stood sideways to make sure I had no unusual uterine bulge. It took me a good 60 seconds to be satisfied that what had just happened was a sad, horrible, frightening dream. I got back in bed for a few more minutes trying to figure out how I had managed to dream up something like that, especially since I haven't talked to a pregnant woman in quite some time.

Subliminally, though, I had managed to stash all the horror stories I heard from women about their problem pregnancies and smush them all together into one huge clusterfuck. I had been:

-The dawdler who just can't decide what to do about her unplanned pregnancy
-The young girl who still believes, if only on the surface, that if you close your eyes all your problems will fade
-The lost woman who instinctively turns to her mother for guidance, but is knocked back by her indifference
-The wanderer who has only strangers to confide in, at best
-The Everywoman who inevitably feels, at some point, completely alone.

I don't think I have ever felt so depressed upon waking up. I have never actually dealt with a problem pregnancy, but after having walked in another woman's moccasins I am assured that a) I never want to go there, and b) I will never force a human being to endure it.