Dear Advocates for Life,
I have quietly listened to your perspectives, and I feel the weight of every assumption made about me. You draw a clear distinction between right and wrong, as if you fully understand the emotional toll of facing life-altering decisions. The reality you envision does not reflect my experience.
On January 5, 2021, I underwent a second-trimester abortion at 18 weeks and 3 days along. My situation was not born from circumstances of rape or incest, nor was I an unwed teenager. Financial issues were not a factor, and I was not using abortion as a method of birth control. My child was not unloved or unwanted; she was deeply cherished.
My daughter, whom my partner and I named Grace—meaning “gift from God”—was not merely a “fetus.” She was a beloved little girl, a sister, a daughter, a niece, and a granddaughter. During an ultrasound at 17 ½ weeks, our world shattered when we learned that she was critically ill.
Grace was diagnosed with trisomy 21 and nonimmune hydrops fetalis. Her body was accumulating fluid, and her organs were progressively failing. Everyone we consulted informed us that survival was impossible beyond a few more weeks. The dreams we held for our family evaporated in an instant.
As a Christian who believes in miracles, I also have faith in modern medicine. The thought of my daughter enduring suffering in what should be the safest place for her was unbearable. I could not imagine bonding with her, only to face the heart-wrenching goodbye that lay ahead. The day my son was born remains the happiest of my life, and I wanted to protect those memories from being overshadowed by grief.
My doctor advised that waiting for Grace to pass on her own would heighten my risks of infection and other complications, potentially endangering my life. I still had responsibilities to my son and my husband. The most agonizing decision of my life was thrust upon me, one I never wished to confront. I made the heartbreaking decision to end a pregnancy I had desperately wanted.
Due to the laws you supported, I discovered I could not access abortion services in my home state of Tennessee. Planned Parenthood could not perform the procedure past the 15-week mark, and local hospitals denied my request.
When my doctor, who had delivered my son, informed me she was legally unable to help, I was engulfed in shame. The lawmakers in my state didn’t trust me, the mother, to make the best choice for my family. I felt like a fugitive, seeking care in another state while grappling with my grief. Until that moment, I hadn’t given much thought to the pro-life or pro-choice debate, but the laws in place left me feeling isolated, frightened, and, frankly, angry.
I have hesitated to speak the word “abortion” because of the stigma surrounding it. With the upcoming elections, it seems to loom over me, complicating my grief. Not only do I mourn the loss of my daughter, but I also carry the burden of public judgment.
Many pro-life friends and family members have told me, “But your situation is different.” Initially, this felt comforting, but I have come to see this mindset as problematic. I am not different; my experience is not unique. Avoiding the term “abortion” allows misconceptions to persist, and the laws will remain unchanged.
It is painful, but I must acknowledge that I had an abortion, and this is how it unfolded for me. Life is not always a matter of black and white; many of us exist in the gray, concealing our stories to avoid shame and judgment. We often refrain from advocating for our rights, trying to shield our already shattered hearts from further pain. This silence enables a cycle where your voices dominate, laws tighten, and we, the grieving mothers, lose our rights to make choices for our families.
While you were advocating for a pro-life stance, my husband and I were saying goodbye to our daughter in an unfamiliar hospital surrounded by strangers. While you protested outside a clinic, my husband was alone at a distant funeral home selecting a tiny urn for our daughter’s ashes. While you shared anti-abortion articles online, I was praying for my sweet angel, hoping she was safe in God’s arms. To speak of abortion as a selfish act overlooks the profound loss experienced by mothers like myself.
I urge you to include our voices in the abortion conversation. Contemplate the complexities before supporting restrictive laws. Do not turn away simply because it makes you uncomfortable. We are mothers who have made the decision to terminate pregnancies due to severe prenatal diagnoses. Our choices stem from love, and we are doing our utmost with the challenges we face.
If you’re looking to learn more about at-home fertility options, consider exploring resources like this excellent guide on IVF or checking out Make a Mom’s insights for couples navigating their fertility journey. And for those interested in the process of home insemination, you can also find valuable information here.
In summary, my experience with abortion was a complex and painful decision made out of love for my daughter. I ask that you recognize the shades of gray in this debate and acknowledge the stories of mothers like me who are often silenced. We deserve to have our realities heard and understood.