Opinions

When my mother was 19 years old, she found out she was pregnant. Being unmarried, she hid this fact from her parents as long as was physically possible. Friends and family encouraged her to do the “right” thing—either have an abortion or give me up for adoption. My mother refused. I was her baby, and she was determined to raise me, alone if necessary, the best she could.

Because of this, I grew up with the knowledge that I could never have an abortion if I were to get pregnant. I didn’t care what other pregnant women decided to do, but I knew I could never choose to give up my baby.

About a year and a half ago, when I was attending UGA, my best friend in the world came to me in tears to tell me she was pregnant. She knew she wasn’t in a position to have a baby—her parents would kill her, her boyfriend was an immature frat boy whose goal in life was to get drunk every night, and so on.

So she asked me to drive her to Atlanta to have an abortion.
On the ride to Atlanta, we were both terrified, but when we got to the clinic, I think I was in a worse state than my friend was.

I sat in the waiting area, trying to concentrate on my magazine, but it wasn’t working. I kept thinking back to nearly twenty years before. My mother was exactly the same age as my friend was when she found out she was pregnant.

I was absolutely torn—I did not resent my friend at all for the decision she had made, but at the same time, I couldn’t say she was making the right decision. It was only then that I realized how much courage my mother had shown by going through with her pregnancy.

For at least two tedious hours, I sat there. I saw girls who could not have been more than 12 years old disappearing through the double doors, red-eyed boyfriends twiddling their thumbs, mothers who sat there, staring straight ahead and avoiding eye contact with anyone else.

Finally, finally, they called my name and told me to drive around to the side exit. My friend was helped into the car, and we slowly started out of the driveway.

“Thank you so much, Clarissa,” she said as her tears started falling. She closed her eyes.

Never have I been more grateful for someone falling asleep than I was at that moment. I was about to turn out of the parking lot when I saw them. It was just like the movies—a mob of people carrying crosses, holding signs that read, “We love babies,” and shouting. But what killed me were the parents who had their children standing there with them. I couldn’t understand why they would do such a thing.
I started to cry, out of fear, relief that it was over, and sorrow for what my friend had just gone through.

Later that night, her boyfriend (who could not drive her to Atlanta because it conflicted with the first Bulldog football game of the season, and was quite put out by the fact that he had to find a date for the game since my friend was unavailable) showed up completely trashed. He just wanted to make sure she was okay and to thank me for taking her.

She asked him to leave, and then told me about her experience. “Do you know what the worst part of it was?” she asked me. “I didn’t even have to think when I found out I was pregnant. I just asked when I could schedule an appointment.”

I wish I could say that this shocked me, but it didn’t. If I had been her, I would have done the same thing. Since I’m me, however, I still don’t think I could have an abortion. If I decided to, though, I’ve got plenty of people who would support me in every possible way.

The next time you want to criticize someone for making a personal decision about their own bodies, remember this quote:

“I passed their hand held signs / I went thru their picket lines / They gathered when they saw me coming / They shouted when they saw me cross / I said why don’t you go home / Just leave me alone / I’m just another woman lost / You are like fish in the water who don’t know they are wet / As far as I can tell / The world isn’t perfect yet / . . . They keep pounding their fists on reality / Hoping it will break / But I don’t think there’s one of them that leads a life / Free of mistakes”

Ani Difranco
“Lost Woman Song”