I had an abortion last month. It was probably the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make. I love children and I want to be a mother SO badly. Call me unfeminist if you will, but my dream is to have that white picket fenced house in the suburbs with a pack of kids, a husband, and a bunch of pets. I’m 21 years old, I don’t have a steady job or a car or my own house, my boyfriend and I have only been together for 6 months, my health is crap, I’m a borderline alcoholic, yada yada yada. So really, bad time to have a baby. I am not a fan of adoption – I’ve heard far too many horror stories, and I couldn’t send my baby out in the world to be raised by someone else who might not be a good parent. If anyone’s going to fuck up my kids, it’s going to be me!, and given my health and drinking, it would have been likely that I and/or my child would have been seriously damaged by the pregnancy.
So the choice was clear: abortion was the way to go.
We’re talking about a second-trimester abortion. Here’s the 14-week old fetus:
The writer of the post (who I assume is telling the truth, rather than coming up with some story to garner attention and approval at the website where she posted it – never discount that possibility), is an unemployed alcoholic. She’s already in the third decade of her life and ruining her health. Rather than go into explanations on
a. what adoption is like
b. having a conscience
c. the meaning of the phrase “regret comes with time,”
d. and other “yadda, yadda,” as she puts it,
let’s cut to the chase and give her some valuable advice she can actually understand:
Get your tubes tied now.
The life you save may be yours.