I Would Have An Abortion
I am pro-choice, but I have always told people that I don’t know whether or not I would have an abortion. I always said that it would depend on circumstances, the man, the place, etc.
That was never strictly true. I always knew, deep down, that I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t something I could emotionally deal with, I knew some instinct would take over and I would accept my new life with grace, knowing plans were just coming early rather than out of the blue.
In light of these recent Planned Parenthood debates, my boyfriend and I had a long and frank conversation a few days ago about both our stances on the subject. He asked me what I would do if I woke up tomorrow and my IUD had failed and I was pregnant with our child. I furrowed my forehead and looked down at the nest of sheets we were sitting in.
“I would keep it,” I said. “I don’t want to have a kid right now, but I have no reason not to. It’s something I want eventually and I don’t think it would damage anything I have in my life right now. It would be a change, maybe a really good one.”
I quickly then added that of course, if I were offered a big promotion or a job at a bigger company then I would end the pregnancy, trying to make it clear that I’m an independent strong career woman whose job is important right now, family later. Lest I reveal myself as a bad feminist who secretly wants to house and kids and quiet life of domesticity.
When told me he wasn’t ready for kids yet, I told him that would certainly factor into my decision, and he looked at me funny and said, “it shouldn’t. It’s your body, it’s not my choice.” And I thought of what would happen if he couldn’t handle it and split, and smiled realizing that I had a interconnected and loving community of friends and family that would clearly come to my aid and help me raise my child, everyone pitching in and taking babysitting shifts. I knew it would be okay. I finally definitively knew that I would never have an abortion for a non-health reason. My mind rested easy.
This week had also caught me in a number of high emotion scenarios, including a stressful confrontation with a friend, trouble at work, my boyfriend living in my house, my period signaling its arrival with pain and mood swings, and the topper: I was on a clean eating cleanse. I was mostly enjoying it, despite my complaining. It was giving me good recipes and keeping me from watching Netflix all night. The thing that sucked was that I constantly had to turn down or bail on plans since I had only specific foods I could eat and a strict cooking schedule. But I compensated, spending a lot more time at home with my boyfriend and playing video games with my roommates while my kale roasted.
This past Sunday, I had just rounded into the second week. I was past the halfway point and dedicated to finishing, sure to come out the other side healthy and culinarily adept, talking about how rewarding and challenging it was over a giant plate of nachos and pitcher of beer I would devour immediately. Since we had the day to kill, the boyfriend and I decided to tackle the giant pile of laundry that had slowly seeped over my entire bedroom floor, symptomatic of my hatred to putting away the folded clothes in my hamper and his lack of place to put any of this things. As 6pm rolled around, we started the loads and I strolled into the kitchen, about the undertake the task of cooking my dinner and every meal I’d eat the next day since I wouldn’t have time tomorrow.
Just as I was starting up, an old friend dropped by the apartment, someone I hadn’t seen in forever. I threw my arms around him and babbled, “I’m so glad you’re here! Can’t hang out yet, doing this silly cleanse thing, whatever I think it’s an okay idea but it’s so much cooking! I’ll be in as soon as I can love you love you.” My roommates and friend gathered in the living room and as I bustled through the kitchen, I listened to them shriek with laughter and enjoy the living hell out of each other. Every time I thought I had a moment to join them, I’d remember the laundry and rush downstairs to change it over, selflessly and secretly like a martyr deciding that my boyfriend should enjoy himself. I got increasingly upset through the evening, thinking, “Man, is this what being a mom is like? Do you miss everything because there’s just too much to do?” I had felt stress like this before at work, but that was doing something I loved, and it had always been made okay by sheer fact that I was willing to let it take over.
Just as I was finishing up, the friend came into the kitchen to say goodbye. I was crestfallen. He was moving in three weeks and I had blown my chance to hang out with him one last time. As he walked out of the room, the thought hit me like a brick, “I would definitely have an abortion.”
It was such an incredible moment of clarity, one that I’ve rarely had before. I suddenly realized that while I wanted kids, while I knew I could take care of one, and that I would have a good life, I just didn’t want to. I wanted to drink root beer floats and go out and shriek with laughter and enjoy the hell out of being 24 and living in a big city. Before this moment, I had intellectually understood the articles and posts I’d been reading in the last few months about how abortion shouldn’t be something we frame as tragic or difficult but as a medical necessity and a force of good in the world. But I had never really agreed with them, at least for me. Abortion for me would be difficult and hard, a decision that needed good reasoning and extreme circumstances.
But I just don’t want to have a child right now. Full stop. End of sentence. The fact that I’m a healthy, happy, college education 20-something with a good job and a steady loving relationship might mean I’m capable of it, but that’s not a reason to start a family. Just because I might be ready logistically isn’t a reason to bring a human being into the world.
Not wanting a kid right now is a good enough reason to have an abortion.
Deciding that a child is not right for you at all is a good enough reason.
Wanting an abortion is a good enough reason.
I would have an abortion tomorrow if I got pregnant. I am lucky enough to have that choice, and I deserve it as a human being. Defunding Planned Parenthood takes that choice away, a choice that every woman should be able to make, no matter if she was raped, or skipped a birth control pill, or would die if she went into labor, or wouldn’t want to jeopardize her career, or doesn't have the financial stability, or just plain doesn’t want a kid within the next year or at all.
I would have an abortion. And I shouldn’t have to write 1250 words explaining why.
