Since I had known about abortion, I had been for a woman’s right to choose abortion if she felt it necessary. I had been lukewarm on the issue, not really vocal or anything, but I was certainly pro-choice. I was a self-proclaimed feminist, after all, and I had left behind the morals my parents had tried to teach me when I was younger to live a life of freedom and self-determination. But my steadfast position on women’s choice withered away in the space of a few terrifyingly long days in my sophomore year of high school.
I was 16. I was scared and I felt so alone and I didn’t know what to do. I had “skipped” one month and I was waiting anxiously for Aunt Flo to arrive on my doorstep. I had been gaining weight, and I was starting to feel sick. I was mortified. What would my parents think? What would my friends think? What would the guy think? What if I was really pregnant?
And in that moment I began to think, “It’s not a baby, I can get rid of this problem like that.”
But me and the guy, we had talked about this. We said we were going to be together — if we had a child, we’d raise it together. We’d work for that.
I didn’t know what to do or to think, and my friends were picking up that something wasn’t right. A few days later in my drafting class, I was brooding terribly, and the guy walks in. He pulls me out of class to talk. We’re speaking low in the hallway and I haven’t seen him in three days — since I intimated to him that I might be pregnant. I was infuriated that he would pull me out of class to talk about this now, after he’d ignored me for days. We spoke calmly for a few minutes before it came out.
“You need to get an abortion, Aimee. I can take you and we’ll get it taken care of. I can’t possibly tell my mom what we’ve been doing. I can’t…”
“But you said that we’d work it out–!”
“I know, but we can’t. Honestly, I’ve been thinking… I dunno… I might kill you and then myself.”
“Leave–. Go–. Now. I have to go back to class. We’ll talk about this some other time.”
My mind was reeling. I might kill you and then myself. If I had the presence of mind, I suppose I would have run to the police or at least the vice principal. But I was shocked and scared and I felt so utterly alone.
And yet, in that moment, I knew something else, too: if I was indeed with child, that preborn human life within would be worthy of the same protections as me. If I were to be killed, we would both be the victims of the same violence. So what right have I to inflict the same harm that was being threatened against me upon an innocent human being? How much better would I be than the guy if I chose the path of violence to reach my goals in life?
So I looked up fetal development and I searched resources on pregnancy and adoption. And I educated myself and looked at the science and prenatal biology. It was so utterly apparent that even after everything I had been through I was not being a mere sentimentalist. My decision to become pro-life was based in science and reason and logical conclusions. The impetus, of course, was a very twisted situation which no woman should ever have to endure — but it helped to turn the light on, and it charged my research with even greater cause.
Now seven years later, the work that I do with the Life Matters Journal is to bring non-partisan, non-sectarian discussion on all life issues to the fore; whether it be about the ethics of abortion, unjust war, capital punishment, or euthanasia or other human life issues. I do hope to bring an end to aggressive violence. Becoming pro-life for me wasn’t just about being against abortion, but about beginning the fight to stand up for all human life. And I would not be here but for a terrible threat that brought the reality to me: this is about equality, this is about all human rights.Share on Facebook