The post:
I was laying in bed reading a book when she walked in. My 12 year old daughter climbed right up on top of me and started chatting. She’s reserved, not as open with me as her sister. I treasure these times when she grabs my attention and we get to connect. “Mom, I found this website. It’s really cool, but it’s sad. It shows numbers, like how many people have been born and die, and how many have had abortions.”
She’s speaking my language.Now I’m all in. Fully present.
With extra caution not to make assumptions I ask “Why is that sad?” and she replies, “Like 300,00 people have had abortions this year already.” And I ask again, “Why is that sad? I had an abortion.” This is when her body language shifts. She knew, but she didn’t really know. It’s been laid in front of her in multiple ways, but she was clearly still in the processing stage. This was her way of opening the door again. This was an opportunity to get some new clarity. And so we keep talking, she hopes she’s not one of the 1 in 4 who will have an abortion in her life and I hope that for her too. I remind her that no matter what she will be ok, we can do hard things. It’s hard for me to stay at her level, I want to go all in. I want to tell her all the things, but this is her path. I’m following. She’s in the lead.
Her sister now 15, was also 12 when I had my abortion. It strikes me that this might be the age when they are ready to have these hard conversations. I remember it, almost like it was yesterday. Then, I was in bed still bleeding after my abortion. She laid down with me and I asked her, “Do you want to know why I’ve been in bed?”
Her reply was unsure, but open, “Maybe... I don’t know… do I? Ok, tell me.”
“So I was using an IUD for birth control. It’s over 99% effective, but I got pregnant. Now I’m in bed because I’m not pregnant anymore. So I’m bleeding and crampy.”“Oh. OK. Every time you called me all week I was afraid you were going to tell me you were pregnant. I’m glad you’re not now.” I could feel the relief rise from her shoulders, and we left it at that. I let her hold the lead.
The next day she initiated another step into the conversation. “I was thinking it must be really hard to decide not to have a baby.” “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” I replied.To this date it might be the most emotionally intimate moment I’ve ever had with a child. We were in it together, present, aware, grateful… human. I’m not sure how she came to the conclusion. I didn’t ask. It didn’t seem relevant at the time. What mattered is that there was space for her to share and for me to respond, and that we both felt comfortable in the uncomfortable.
This isn’t over. The conversations don’t stop here. They will weave their way into our futures. My kids, especially the girls, will someday face these big life lessons: late periods, pregnant girlfriends, unplanned pregnancies, reproductive health choices…
I am committed to being accessible, open, and vulnerable. It’s scary, just because they have a mom who is comfortable with abortion, doesn’t mean they will choose the same. Chances are good that they’ll carry my same pro-choice values, but I can’t say for sure. I will love and accept them no matter how they care for their bodies and their futures.
My job is to be an example of love, no matter where our conversations take us, because I want for them a life that is as vibrantly delicious and intentional as the one I’ve chosen for myself.
