also trying something new with the voiceover option, which conveniently showed up in substack this week- let me know what you think!
If you’re reading this, we’ve made the announcement: we’re expecting, and we’re thrilled!
It’s a bittersweet announcement in light of last week’s Supreme Court decision, because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for the abortion I had in 2012. At 21, I wasn’t prepared to bring my own child into this world in less-than-ideal circumstances. Comparing these pregnancies is inevitable, especially as I pass the LMP week I reached previously this week. Both times, I’ve had a lack of morning sickness, but I remember thinking at the time, “Oh, pregnancy hormones are heightening my emotions and the way I think” and yet this time, I haven’t noticed anything particularly out of line. The major difference besides age are the circumstances: I’m not in a failing relationship with extreme pressure against my choices; I’m not facing my senior year of university and wondering what trajectory my future will take.
I took detailed notes during that time because I was asked to consider my options so I took that seriously. I made the right decision with no regrets (other than allowing an attempt to run the clock out on me with discussions). Let’s revisit those options because while I’ve discussed them previously, they’re recontextualized in a post-Roe America. And here’s the thing: I did seriously consider these options, as I was asked to by someone I dearly loved at the time despite our different conclusions. I cannot stress enough how frustrating it is to see anti-choice arguments act as if these are flippant decisions, as if we don’t feel the pit in our stomach drop and see our entire lives flash before our eyes.
Adoption
This is what my then-boyfriend and his parents would’ve preferred. We took a phone call from a family friend of his who happened to be an adoption lawyer to learn about what that process was like. At one point, he mentioned he just so happened to know a couple who was looking for an infant and offered to connect us. I was immediately creeped out and decided I did not want to pursue this further. Further reading, especially from adoptee and birth parent perspectives confirmed the gross feeling I had, because in so many cases well-intentioned parents really want an infant which is partly why there are so many minors in the system who need parents. The other aspect is that so many of these kids have families, but were taken for various reasons, and sometimes there’s no clear cut answer: do you separate a family, or take a child out of an unsafe environment? Notable cases like Adoptive Couple v Baby Girl shows that taking children from marginalized communities is not a thing of the past, and ICWA (Indian Child Welfare Act) may be in front of the Supreme Court again this fall. My ex and I are from the same hometown, so what are the odds that this lawyer friend and his prospective couple also lived in the region where my parents still live? I’m horrified by the thought they’d look at every transracial adoptee infant wondering if that was their grandchild. I do recognize that adoption can work, but the system as it currently is has a lot of drawbacks for all parties, and pursuing a closed option in the 21st century is barbaric. It’s not for me.
Reading Recommendations:
All You Can Ever Know by Nicole Chung
American Baby: A Mother, a Child, and the Shadow History of Adoption by Gabrielle Glaser
The Girls Who Went Away: The Hidden History of Women Who Surrendered Children for Adoption in the Decades Before Roe V. Wade by Ann Fessler
Breaking the Silence: On Living Pro-Lifers’ Choice for Women
Parenting
This was the first option crossed off in my first pregnancy as prior to it, my then-boyfriend indicated he wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue dating after graduating, already demonstrating that the relationship was failing. We didn’t break up specifically because of the abortion, but it acted as a catalyst, showing just how many cracks there were in the foundation. When his parents suggested we get married, it was an immediate no. I am forever grateful to my parents who said they’d support whatever I chose and meant it. If I decided to keep the pregnancy, they offered to raise it while I finished school (given it’d be unlikely for me to complete a 19 credit semester while pregnant) which is a huge sacrifice on their part, but unfair to everyone because why should they go back to childrearing in the years when they should be considering retirement? I had no job prospects, so they’d be heavily involved anyway. Parenting would also mean having to be connected with my ex, something he already wasn’t sure he wanted. Seriously considering becoming a parent made me realize I DID want to be one, but not like this. And if I viewed this pregnancy as a prospective parent, it wasn’t fair to bring a child into this world knowing either one or both parents didn’t want them, especially if I succumbed to suicidal ideation in post-partum. I chose not to set my child up with trauma from the start.
Mental Health
As mentioned earlier, my emotional health feels very different despite being at similar stages. A valid fear I had at the time was that hormones would enflame already volatile depression, and I would do something to myself, whether self-harm or suicide. I used to have suicidal ideation about once a month or so, so add a rocky relationship and an unplanned pregnancy and this could’ve broken me. With either the adoption or parenting routes, I’d still very likely have to face post-partum depression and I’m convinced that combined with adoption separation trauma, it would’ve killed me. Or, that I’d do something tragic like Andrea Yates.
It’s only clear in hindsight, but having a loving, supportive partner makes a WORLD of difference. I’m not being coerced to wreck my mind and body for something I don’t want to make him happy in the short term. I’m not being told, “I’ll follow where you lead” only to hear “I can’t financially support something I consider murder” at the billing office. In some ways, having an abortion actually strengthened me- I realized my own self worth, and that my whole self didn’t need to be thrown away for a hypothetical person, an undeveloped concept.
Social Implications
While I’ve always been outspoken about reproductive rights, I was initially silent at large on my personal experience because my ex and I had a lot of mutual friends, many of whom were Catholic. Personal choices like this SHOULD be private, but unfortunately activists have been chipping away at access rights for the last 50 years so my voice becomes necessary lest I abandon those who come after. While we did disclose to close friends, there were others that he was convinced would be devastated should they learn I committed murder in their eyes (and that he kind of aided and abetted). I’ve since learned some of them found out anyway, so I feel like I gagged myself to stifle my own screams into the void. Even putting this together feels weird- I don’t want to relitigate old relationships and would prefer to let them sink into memory, but I’m not allowed to forget because this scenario is going to play out for the worse over and over, across the country in states with abortion restrictions.
With this second pregnancy, we tell friends with joy, to watch their faces as they recognize what we’re saying (with maybe a nod to noticing how I stopped drinking a while ago). There is no shame here; I can simply state my status and people get it. I remember my dad telling me at the time that it should be a joyous occasion instead of a grim decision with no good outcome, and I’m reveling in finally getting to experience that.
There’s also the fact I wouldn’t have met my now-husband were I forced into a pregnancy. If I wasn’t dead, I’d either have dropped out and moved back to Idaho, or I would’ve been the one to drive my roommate and friends out on her birthday instead of one of them calling Syl. Even if we had met, he likely wouldn’t romantically pursue a pregnant woman, and therefore he wouldn’t have followed me out west. This entire life of ours wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t chose abortion.
On that note about shame, from a letter I wrote in the breakup fallout:
Speaking of the situation that brought us to this point, I hope your words about my attitude towards sex were said in anger/flippancy and not actually what you think of me. Eschewing sex because of the possibility of a pregnancy is like avoiding restaurants because of the possibility of food poisoning: do I deny myself pleasure because there's a statistically small chance bad things could happen? Denial of desire would only lead to unhappiness, which is why precautions are necessary. Not even all sexual activities result in pregnancy, but then, I'm not really sure why I'm telling you this other than to explain my point of view. I'm a little insulted that you think I'd be cavalier and immediately choose abortion if I have the misfortune to be a statistical minority again- every situation is different.
Why access still matters to me now
Of course, we’re still early. We’re statistically okay, but better to be prepared for the worst while hoping for the best. Some state laws have no exceptions for abortion; others have exceptions that include rape, incest, and/or the health of the mother but define those exceptions in such a way to create more hurdles for access. For my home state of Idaho, rape exceptions must have a police report for documentation, which requires filing a report and having it investigated in the first place. Sexual assaults are already underreported, so depending on official reports makes this less of an option. Likewise, the wording for health of the mother is ambiguous, as a lawyer from Twin Falls points out. How much do I need to bleed before I can receive care? I refuse to be America’s Savita Halappanavar, and for the duration of this pregnancy I will not travel to states with abortion bans (the coronavirus pandemic is also still ongoing, which adds more risk to travel).
Even if I have access, I cannot guarantee my safety in some places. As I mentioned in an earlier post, miscarriages have been prosecuted in the United States under suspicion of feticide. In California, perceived to be a blue state, a district attorney has prosecuted two women and is willing to do it again because he thinks they risked their children due to drugs in their system. I have been vocal about my stance on choice for over a decade; I fear cruelty from religious medical staff should I miscarry and be unable to pass the remains. Maybe they wouldn’t check my public twitter, but you never know.
I’ll admit: this isn’t the rosiest of pregnancy announcement posts, but it feels so wonderous to me after the first one, so completely different. I can’t help but notice how drastically different they are, and that if certain parties had their way, I likely wouldn’t have even survived to this point. When someone celebrates abortion bans, I hear, “Your life doesn’t matter, and I think you should be jailed or die.” I live out of spite because I deserve to exist. I chose life, alright- my own, and that of my future family over a dead end.