Today I was scrolling along Facebook and saw someone comment on a video about a fact checking experiment involving Planned Parenthood. The video involved a group of people anonymously calling the PP offices around the country and asking for the prenatal care that the company allegedly provides. They called 41 offices and only 5 offered prenatal care. This corporation that gets even the smallest amount of my paycheck every year, only five of those offices that were called offer what they claim those tax dollars are allocated for.
This video led to me agreeing with a comment that Abortions should not be used as a form of birth control. The agreement and my support for my argument about the expense of an abortion versus the expense of buying protection was called out for me to be more clear about why I felt my opinion on this subject mattered.
I had to excuse myself from the debate because the little girl I never got to hold was at the forefront of my mind and I refuse to use her as an argument resource against strangers. It felt wrong to do so. I had typed the message, had prepared to fight and then I realized the person with whom I was arguing doesn’t know.
They don’t know that I was so excited to be a mother when I thought I couldn’t be. They don’t know that I had outfits, diapers, bottles, a bassinet, a diaper bag and pacifiers already bought when I still had 28 weeks before I was going to get to hold my little one. They don’t know that I never got confirmation on her gender but Tim and I both just knew it was a girl. They don’t know that my husband ran around his workplace hooping and hollering that he was going to be a daddy, that we were adopting this kid. They don’t know that I broke down in my mother’s front yard when I got that phone call that said “Are you ready to be a mom?” They don’t know that when I got the message telling me to read a blog posted by the biological mother about the graphic details of my daughter being vacuumed out of her womb, I felt like all of the air had been sucked out of my lungs. They didn’t have to read about the medications used to make sure all the “parts” of my daughter were labored from her biological mother’s uterus safely. They don’t know how many nights I cried over the loss of a life I thought I was meant to mold and protect. They don’t know that when I think about the tax dollars that were put towards it, that I cry over the fact that maybe I funded that one. They don’t know that I can just look at my husband and know when we’re both wondering what our daughter would be like now, turning eight years old next month. They don’t know that I wonder what kind of party she would have had and what kind of cake I’d be stressing over making. They don’t know. They don’t know. They don’t know.
What I don’t know is, would telling them even help? Would they even care? Would they use it as a way to tell me I need to keep my opinions to myself because I’m personally biased against the idea of someone stopping a beating heart?
With all the hate being spread and slung around, I didn’t feel the need to add fuel to the fire and put my daughter’s name into the blaze.
I am a woman that didn’t agree with the reasons for the march a couple of weeks ago. I have the right to vote, I have the right to work, I have the right to stay home, I have the right to drive, to dress how I want, eat when I want, join the military, do construction, preach the word… I can do anything that I want. The “rights” the women were marching for… the rights to their own bodies… the right to terminate unwanted pregnancies.. I do understand that there are circumstances when termination is necessary. I am not so naive to think that it would never happen, but we also have the right to say ‘no’. We have the right to not have unprotected sex. We have the right to birth control. We have the right to spermicide. We have the right to diaphragms. We have the right to plan B. We have so many rights that would keep us out of abortion clinics, why were you marching for that? And if that isn’t what you were marching for, then the message wasn’t clear enough for me. Women held the world stage for that day and that was the message left behind in more minds than just mine. With the struggles women have earning respect, thinking we always have to prove ourselves…and women dressed in vagina costumes, carrying vulgar signs that they left littering the streets, and they demanded ‘my body my choice’. Women held the world stage, and that was the impression that was left behind.
I just… I saw those women marching and thought about the daughter I never got to hold. I thought about all the other women in the world who can’t have their own children and they were painted a picture of women who can reproduce and are so abundantly able to do it that they choose to go to clinics and “get rid of the mistake”. I’m also not so pigheaded or closed-minded to believe that every woman marching has that frame of mind to use abortion as birth control, but bare with me while I express what I need to express. I’m sure there was a number of women that were marching for so much more, for things we really needed the world to see, but it was drowned out by the things that are sticking out in people’s minds and in the media now.
I’m not arguing theology. I’m not beating people over the head with my religious beliefs. I’m stuck in this vicious loop of “My body, my choice.” Choose to be responsible. If you are responsible and end up in that small percentage of ineffective contraception, that is a completely different conversation, though I would be one to encourage other options to avoid abortion until I was blue in the face. Mostly, I’m sympathetic to the women who watched that march and their hearts broke.
Back in September, I had an online acquaintance that was forced to go on an all expenses paid trip around Europe for two weeks. I expected to get updates about how beautiful the Sistine Chapel was or what the food was like or how beautiful the weather was. Instead all she did was complain, about everything. The flight sucked, there was so much walking, everything was boring because she had seen it all before. She just wanted to go home and be in bed because this trip was awful.
I’ve never been out of the country and would love to see Paris, Rome, Venice, London… heck I’m excited about my trip to Canada in the spring. I can’t afford such a luxury trip and all she did was complain about one she didn’t even have to pay to enjoy. It felt insulting to have someone be so ungrateful for something they could just have when so many others would have been so happy to have taken her place. What made it worse was that she was complaining to two of those people who would have gladly gone to Europe while she stayed home and laid in bed.
I got that same feeling watching the women’s march when I thought about all of the women with empty arms because their bodies don’t work the way that they are supposed to. How heartbreaking it must’ve been for them to see people supporting the ending of little lives that they would’ve been happy to nurture?
If you agree that abortion should be a civil right, that is your opinion and you are very much entitled to it. I have heard several arguments for it and no matter how hard I argue against it, I fear there will never come a true truce on the matter. I just don’t agree with even a dime of my taxes paying for services that (for the most part) could be avoided with a little responsibility going a long way.