Mama, What Does Abortion Mean?
A conversation.
On the way to school this morning, in those six minutes, I explained the concept of abortion, and the current events surrounding it, to my 10-year-old daughter.
“Why are they walking out of school today at one o’clock?” she asked, eyeing her two teenage brothers sitting next to her in the car. “And why are they wearing green?”
I sighed and considered my responsibility, her age, and how much to expose her to. Being the youngest of three, and the only girl, aging up has been the easiest way to keep up.
“I’ve heard of divortion,” she stated. “Like as in divorce.” Brothers laughed, and I giggled too.
“As in, your parents are going through divortion?” I inferred. This is also true. But I was stalling. She needed to know.
I began to explain, starting from the perspective of a woman who is pregnant and knows she isn’t able to care for the baby. Her brothers, ages 15 and 17, listened intently and quietly. One had green pants on, and the other a green hat; the color that represents solidarity for the school’s walk-out protest planned for later that afternoon.
Her closest brother, my 15-year-old, explained the pro-life point of view. We explained together that it’s often paired with a religious perspective. And that it’s hard to argue with the point that an innocent, pure baby has no choice but death in the matter.
But no one argued that point. We didn’t bring up rape and incest, or the finite weeks into the development of the baby. I did bring up that the state she lives in will not deny the choice, but that many other states will, and those women will have to drive to another state to get the healthcare they need.
Before I was born, my mother became pregnant. She wasn’t ready; young and unmarried, and hadn’t started her career yet. Abortion was illegal, and so she had her brother drive her across state lines to Chicago. There she found herself in a motel room with a doctor. My mother would fit today’s demographic of who is facing the decision: a twenty-something who doesn’t have a stable income. This isn’t my story to tell, but my mom is no longer here. She would have been proud of my boys for participating in a walk-out to protest abortion rights.
My 17-year-old has had a girlfriend for six months, and I can’t help but see how relevant this is for him. My 15-year-old is right behind him. And then there’s my ten-year-old daughter, who will be rising into womanhood in the next few years.
I’m aware that these changes my boys will protest may not immediately affect my kids, being that they live in a liberal state and are growing up relatively privileged. But it’s so much larger than my sons and daughter being denied a right: it’s about human rights. The more the courts and leadership take away, the more we suffer.
I didn’t pontificate this morning as we pulled into school. But I can’t help but draw the line between my mother and her experience sixty years ago, to my daughter and sons and the state of the country today.
“It’s a-bortion,” I told my daughter, “with an a.” And with that, a little more of her innocence was chipped away, and a little more understanding of the way the world works was introduced.
