I am not ashamed.
And ~we~ are not alone.
I am a mother-by-choice. Four times actually. There’s the generation of girls I raised to married adulthood, my daughter and my stepdaughter. And now I have two fifteen-year-old boys in my house, one of whom is our nephew. I’ve been a mom since I was twenty years old. I chose my daughter. I chose motherhood. And I raised her alone for the first six years of her life with no child support.
But motherhood is complicated.
Before we gave birth to you, believe it or not, we were fully formed human beings with hopes and dreams and futures of our own. And my young adult life includes an abortion story, too. I was nineteen when I had my abortion at the Planned Parenthood clinic in Kalamazoo, Michigan, in 1985. The following year that clinic was firebombed by anti-abortion terrorists. I remember clearly hearing the news on my car radio. I had to pull over to collect myself and all I could think was, ‘Thank God. No one ever has to know.’
(...Continue reading over on Planned Parenthood's Tumblr....)