I had an abortion when I needed to. I did so at Planned Parenthood and paid the maximum of what I could, which was a couple of hundred dollars. I was grateful for that resource and their support.

 

Some years later – married with a job, and an apartment, and student loan debt under control – I gave birth to my first child. And regret about my abortion pushed its way into my psyche. How could I reconcile the joy and miracle of birth with the fact that I had terminated my first pregnancy as soon as I was able to? It is a conundrum, perhaps similar to loving a pet but eating meat. We humans are inconsistent in our ways of rationalizing and loving.

 

I struggled with the fact of the abortion for some years, and when I was delightfully pregnant with our second child and was advised to get genetic testing, I refused to do so, knowing that I would not have another abortion under any other circumstances. I felt I had a pact with the universe and with karma: I could kind of rationalize the abortion that had felt necessary, but a second abortion would be unforgivable. For God… maybe? I’m not deeply religious. But most importantly, unforgivable for me. I no longer had any circumstances that could justify an abortion. And fortunately, my husband supported this decision, so we were both on the same page about possibly raising a child with Down’s Syndrome or such. In any case, our second child was healthy by all accounts.

 

I finally found a way to come to terms with the fact that I had terminated a pregnancy which could have led to the birth of a human: I was like a soldier in war. In that period of time, I was in a fight for my own life. The life I had built through study, work, and borrowing. So it was my life, or somebody else’s. And I chose mine.

 

Do soldiers regret that they’ve killed? Often. Do they forget? No. Are they sometimes haunted by it? Yes.

 

This is how I view my abortion.

 

I am pro-military; I am pro-peace. I am pro-life; I am pro-choice. Such is the human condition.