It is a pink stucco, two-story building with gray shutters situated on a corner lot in the heart of the Medical District. As the eastern sky turns pink, announcing the arrival of the sun over the mountain tops in this northeastern Alabama city, the cars with different county and state tags circle the building, allowing young girls…ladies…mothers…to enter through the back door.

Protesters carrying signs proclaiming “Abortion is Murder” shout with loud angry voices obscenities to the girls…ladies…mothers. The door, opened by an off duty police officer, gun loosened in holster,  allows  entrance to the Clinic.

Reviewing the Medical History Form with the mother and daughter, I ask:“Have you considered continuing the pregnancy and placing the child up for adoption?”

The mother says, “I have eight chillren…I can’t raise no mo’…she’s my baby…only twelve, ya’know.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the police?” I ask. “ She is a minor…this is a crime,” I state.

“No’mum, I jest want this over today,” she says, twisting her soiled handkerchief in her gnarled hands.

I look at the child/woman sitting before me…lovely doe-shaped, wide-set brown eyes, straight slender nose, soft full mouth…a cross between two races…not even knowing what a cold, speculum feels like, much less what I mean by a para-cervical block.

Looking directly into those eyes, I ask “Tell me what happened.”

She looks at me, then looks out the dusty window beyond the noisy protesters…speaking softly, almost in a whisper, she tells her story haltingly:

“I was at my sister’s house, ya’know. I went next door to…um…use the phone. Ya’know, this boy, he likes me…umm…he was there. I goes down the hall to where the phone is and he ketches my elbow…umm…pulls me in this dark room, ya’know and ummmmm…,” trailing off in mid thought, lost in her own conflicting thoughts about her first sexual act and the consequences of that brief encounter in a dark room.

Having heard in her voice the anxiety of not knowing what came next, the fears enveloping the lovely facial features in anticipation, the hopelessness of her situation, I felt it unnecessary to have her go on…her mother breaks the silence…

“If I ketch him, I’ll kill’m.”

© 2011

7 thoughts on “Abortion

  1. And the story above is supposed to…what? Bring about sympathy? It rather sounds like rape to me; most pro-lifers make exceptions for rape, so what I think you’re doing is poorly explaining the mindset of less than 1% of women seeking abortion, attempting – again, poorly – to ascribe said mindset to the rest of women, thus making abortion sound rather charitable. It’s absurd, and a clear failure.


  2. You are welcome to trash what I wrote. I was not trying to make a point of anything. I simply wrote a true story, not revealing all the details, because frankly you had no need to know.


  3. You write whatever you choose and I do not question why? So why are you here at my page questioning me? I have the right to write my stories without answering to you. I do not have to have a reason nor point.

    Perhaps if you had read, without judgment, you would have read that: 1) it was pointed out that a crime had been committed; and (2) an option was given. Why do many abused women not leave their abusive husbands? They have a choice and exercise their right to make that choice.

    In this situation, the mother of the minor exercised the choice she had a right to make for her daughter.

    I looked at your site but did not feel a need to comment nor curse. I request the same courtesy from you.


  4. I think you were writing a story, seeking to make abortion out to be some sort of saving grace, and that’s absurd.

    You have your jive posted on a public blog, so expect it to be found, and from time to time, expect criticism.

    If you weren’t writing it for the public to see, then write it in a journal, and if you don’t want critical comments, then shut off commenting.

    It’s that simple.


    1. Thanks for your comment. I was only writing a story. Don’t care about the criticism as long as it is as straight forward and sensible as yours. Abortion is not some sort of saving grace for everyone but for the couple with a dead fetus, it was and for this mother is was but it isn’t if used as a means of birth control.


  5. This was so well written. You brought me right into the story and sadness and tragedy and multitude of layers. I am prolife with a deep desire for dialogue and as I read this it struck me the complexity of humans and our choices. Thank you so much for relaying this difficult story with so much compassion.


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