I remember the day I found out I was pregnant. I remember it vividly. I was 28 and fresh off of NYC, living in a three bedroom apartment, in Wilmington NC. Those who questioned my choice of apartment didn’t understand the closeness of NYC. I rented three bedrooms so I could breathe and because it was 500.00. I was most recently paying 1500.00 for one bedroom 20 minutes outside of Manhattan. I gleefully moved in, spread out and suddenly had room for a new choice.
The circumstances were not ideal, the road ahead wasn’t at all clear, but the choice was mine. Could I put this being’s well-being ahead of my own for, well…. ever? ? ? Me alone in the bathroom with a stick covered in pee, could answer that question definitively almost immediately. I felt that space in my heart and soul could be rented out permanently. I knew that if I was not able to give it the best of me, I had options. It is because of these options that I could willingly and excitedly make that choice.
Imagine the same scenario, but that young woman doesn’t have a choice. It can become forced, coerced, unwanted. Months later that child is brought into this world by a woman who didn’t get to decide those answers for herself. The consequences are unknown.
The now Teenager and I have a great relationship, I trust her, and she trusts me. I respect her and she respects me in return. She isn’t the cleanest person in the world, but she is kind, self-assured, smart and emotionally intelligent. I looked at her the other day and said “I am glad I didn’t abort you.” she replied “thanks mom!” I put everything I could into that human, let’s make sure she has the same choice.