Every four weeks, my liberal value system is tested when I visit my OB/GYN for my monthly prenatal appointment.
Women of every age and varying states of fertility sit on one side of the hushed, tasteful waiting room of this private practice. Older women, clearly in menopause, with short sleeves in the middle of February and neat, graying hair. Women like me, who may or may not be pregnant. Women who are simply there for a quick annual exam and a pap smear.
Then there is the other side.
Near the door to the surgical center.
Women with red-rimmed eyes. Women laughing nervously with a friend. Young women, clearly college students, with their mothers. Women still slender, dressed in jeans and trendy tops or big baggy sweatshirts.
These women are waiting for an abortion.
My doctor is, I believe, the only physician in my area who performs abortions, with the exception of Planned Parenthood.
I did not know this when I joined her practice, hearing only that she was the best in the area. Our crappy insurance allows me to get charged an arm and a leg by any doctor I wish, and so I wished to have the best.
The knowledge that she is also a well-known reproductive rights advocate would never have swayed my decision to enroll as a patient. In fact, I am pleased to know that there is a place for women in need, a place for women who made a painful decision and deserve an excellent physician to guide them through the process of terminating their pregnancy.
But.
Sitting on the opposite side of the room during my last appointment, the phone rang. The terribly rude and indiscrete receptionist loudly questioned the caller for all of us to hear.
“When was your last period?” Pause. “That makes you about six weeks.” Pause. “The surgery is outpatient. If you take the pill, that is something you can do at home.” Pause. “Four-hundred dollars.” Pause. “That is six hundred.”
With each staccato sentence, I felt my hand creep ever nearer my small belly. She booked an appointment for the caller, and as she hung up I found myself staring at her, mouth agape and palm pressed against my womb.
My gaze strayed to the other side of the room, where one woman sat, alone and looking anywhere but at me or the receptionist.
She has a baby in her belly, I thought. Like my baby.
My heart lurched a little.
Judge her I did not; I understand that every circumstance is different. I understand there are reasons – good ones, valid ones – that women terminate pregnancy. I cannot understand, but can certainly imagine, what an agonizing decision it must be to take such a step.
And I fully, with every fiber of my being, support the right of all women to have control over their bodies. Being free to make the right choice for you – no matter how personally painful it is for the woman or how difficult it is for someone else to understand – is a basic human right.
Should anyone or any institution threaten that right even slightly, I will stand up with my sisters and declare it fundamental. I will fight to maintain this right.
But.
I have never been confronted so intimately with the knowledge that in the waiting room, there is a baby. And later, there is not.
Being human, and, specifically, being a woman, is sometimes uncomfortable. Sometimes we have to look in the face of our beliefs, the personification of those beliefs in their living, breathing form, and we are forced to review our value systems and evaluate how we really feel about certain core issues.
This is a true test.
My values remain intact. And because I, too, am human and therefore flawed, so does my unease.
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I’ve been on that side of the room. As well on the one where you sat today. Both sides have the potential to be dreadful, but the side opposite you today is, well, also a freeing place to sit. Not in the moment. No. Not then. It’s delirium-making in the moment. It’s fuzzy-logic’d. But. Before, and after, there is freedom, and safety, and there is the knowledge that someday, one may sit on the other side of the room and be happy to do so, cradling one’s belly with that spectrum of emotion as yet unknown to the one sitting on the non-baby-keeping side.
And I really, underscore, appreciate your supporting the rights of those who sit there. Even if you’ve never undergone the experience. *Especially* because of that. I truly despise those who judge women who have had abortions when they, the judgers, have never been faced with such a scenario, never been given that particular set of rotten circumstances to navigate. I dare them to walk a mile in those shoes before they judge such a life-altering thing.
Dare.
I have been on both sides of that choice. I have made it one way and then the other, with no child in my home to show for it.
I know which one settles well in my heart, but I also know which one kept me alive.
Tis just a question: when do the babies get a choice?
Krista, because I won’t take it low, I’ll go high, out of respect for Mrs. Chicken’s blog, I’ll say this:
If you were told that you were, in the immediate future, going to have someone, an adult, a brilliant Einstein-sort, attached physically to you for nine months out of necessity for this person’s health and well-being, because this person would not survive otherwise, and then after the nine months, you would be expected to continue to support this person for many, many months, possibly even years? Because it is crucial that this person remain alive in order to fulfill his/her destiny, to be a genius and provide some amazing thing for all life on Earth?
And you were not given a choice as to whether you would refrain from such a thing?
I understand the desire to defend the helpless. But what if the helpless one is the one whose life is being subsumed by another? Who rushes to her defense?
Me. I do. I defend the one whose life might be taken over, when she is not prepared for such an onslaught. And make no mistake, a child is an onslaught. I know. I have a 2 1/2 year old onslaughter.
It is not an easy choice, but it is a necessary one. And it is up to each woman to make that choice on her own, without interference by a court system or anyone else. It is her body to give up as chalice or to keep for her own use. Her right. Every. Single. Time.
(with sincere apologies to Mrs. Chicken for the soap-boxing.)
Oh boy.. You know where this is going don’t you? Maybe if I can actually get some sleep tonight I’ll be able to come back and reply intelligently, before the back and forth and righteous indignation forces you to shut your site down.
Having children changes our feelings on abortion — it just does. It may not change our beliefs, but it changes our emotional reactions.
It becomes all the harder and more important to stand by a woman’s right to choose when we know that the choice bothers us so much.
I will not get into the debate above, except to say that people get to choose when they are legally recognized human beings, with things like names and social security numbers.
Why wouldn’t they separate the two a little better, a little more privacy? It seems very callous for both sides. If I was going for either, prenatal or abortion, being confronted, either way, with the consequences of my choice would be heartwrenching. I was weepy enough during pregnancy as it was.
I don’t know if I could have gone through with it, but dammit I’ll stand in the lines so every woman HAS the choice over her body.
Having my third child growing in my belly and having lost people I love to death, i am so much more aware of the preciousness of life. I ache for the power we have been given in so many ways – prolonging life, ending life, morphing faces and shape. It is both tragic and miraculous.
Wonderful post, chickadee.
Imagine too if sitting in that same room are women trying but failing to have children. Or women who are facing — unwillingly — the end of their reproductive careers. Or women who are in the process of miscarrying.
There should be better separation of these groups. Yes, it would require work on the part of the practice, but it would be the right thing to do.
And yes, I’m pro-choice. And would STILL share your unease when faced with your situation.
I have a dear friend who was on that side of the room at 16, I always sympathized with her. But now all of these years later, as a mother, I can understand her agony at making that choice…and how she still lives with it every day of her life.
My heart breaks all over again.
I am not as eloquent as you, Mrs. Chicken, or those who have already commented. But I agree whole-heartedly. It’s a choice and a right I am willing to defend.
(Are you looking forward to the 500 comments you are about to receive?)
While I don’t agree with you regarding abortion, I appreciate your views and am glad that you went ahead and posted this one.
I thank God that I never had to face those tough choices. Thank you for your post, it was well written and thought provoking.It is unfortunate that the practice doesn’t give more privacy to all, that receptionist should perhaps look for another job, one that doesn’t require sensitivity or compassion. I am pro-choice and I will stand up for and support women in whatever choice they make, my heart goes out to the women on the other side of the room.
Mrs. C., my views are exactly in line with yours on this one, up to and including the compassion for those making the choice as well as the unease and heartache that goes along with it. You wrote an incredibly balanced and eloquent post on one of the most controversial topics there is, and I’m glad you chose to go ahead and write it.
I used to go to that practice, too. It was where I had my last annual before I became pregnant. While in the waiting room, I also overheard a similar phone call. Once I conceived my son, I chose a different practice because I couldn’t bear to be around the consequences of my pro-choice beliefs. It is an impossible topic, and I commend you for your strength in confronting it. I could not.
I’m more taken aback by the rude receptionist and her disregard for privacy.
Any decision is never easy. It’s the person’s choice (argue as your commenters may), and therefore should be treated with great care.
Great post! And although uncomfy at times at that office she is the best around and I know exactly what you mean.
Thank you for writing this post.
no judgment here. but I sit in another part of the room (not literally)
the infertility part. i’ve been sitting there for MANY MANY YEARS. . . so this just breaks my heart.
Wow.
This was an exceptionally written post. Thank you for having the cajones to write this post and to write it so well.
I can’t say it any better than KDF did.
Well done, Mrs. C. I am surprised at the lack of sensitivity and confidentiality of the waiting area and office staff. There is so much pain associated with both sides – those in the terrible position of making a choice no one wants to have to make and those not able to have the children they so desperately want. Becoming a mom has changed my personal feelings and I can relate to your unease while also supporting the decision those other women are making.
Thank you for writing this.
I am a very conservative person with very liberal politics. And, yes, having children does change your perspective. I don’t agree with segrgating the different types of women. I don’t think it would change the attitudes or the fear: “She just went in THAT room.” I could imagine people thinking. I would talk to the doctor at the next visit and state your concern over the receptionist’s behavior. THAT is an issue. For me, sometimes being in these uncomfortable situations is very important. When your thoughts and beliefs are challenged, you grow from that experience. If you build a wall, there’s a lot you are missing. My little diddy on this topic (from a different angle): http://miscthing.blogspot.com/2007/07/not-ideal.html
What a provocative post. I, too, am a total advocate of a woman’s right to choose, but it must have been very weird in your situation to have it hit you full frontal like that.
You know, I guess I’m more a “women have the right to choose, but I wish they’d choose a different doctor” kinda girl. Sigh. Pardon me, while I stick my head back in the sand.
I so whole-heartedly agree. Children are beautiful, wonderful blessings. Miracles even. But also parasites, burdens, and life changing events. It’s such a christen-centered view that even has this debate. For some religions, life doesn’t begin until the first breath is taken. It’s really all semantics, though. It still must be painful and traumatic for the woman involved. And, until we live in a world where women get the full support they need to have, raise, and support a child, until women are not punished socially and professionally for having a child, I can’t imagine being anything but pro-choice. I think, though, that people forget that pro-choice isn’t the same thing as pro-abortion.
Having held my daughter in my arms and then watched her die, and later suffer through a miscarriage, abortion, to me, is still a matter of choice, albeit not one I understand easily having endured the loss of two much wanted children. But it’s a choice, and I have to respect that.
terrific post, love. i know for me, i am so very happy the choice exists. and at the same time, i know i would never make that choice. and yet i am glad it’s there.
I think you eloquently captured how many pro-choice women feel.
Great post.
first i sat with my best friend on the other side of the room. i still don’t know how she did it and my heart broke while holding her hand. the next time i was in the room, i was with the husband beyond devastated by our loss. and then finally one day i was in that room filled with utter joy. it’s amazing the range of emotions you can feel in that one room.
beautiful post.
You’re a brave Mama, a compassionate soul, and a spectacular writer.
I too have been on both sides of the room. First on your side, and then on the other, 17 months later, still suffering from post-partum depression, in a bad marriage, and unable to imagine living with a second child. I am so thankful that I was able to make the choice I did.
I have sat on both sides of the room and I must say I rather be on the side where in the end you get a baby.
The baby might be gone, but the nagging that I am responsible for a life not lived will never go away.
What struck me the most about this post was the receptionist and the way she spoke to that woman, and the lack of privacy in that office that should be surrounding such a sensitive decision.
I hate to play devil’s advocate here, but I have to take a moment and look at things from the receptionist’s point of view. Here is a woman with her own story. Her own trials and joys. You only have to sit in the room once a month. She is there every day. She by mere geography is put in the middle of extreme joys, devastating lows and decidedly bleak choices. I used to work in a doctor’s office (not an OBGYN) and found myself often caring so much about the patients it would tear me up inside. Perhaps she needs to maintain her distance and appear cold. She didn’t reveal the caller’s identity or do anything unethical. She didn’t get emotionally involved and I would think that for the person making that call that would be the best possible response. If she were to whisper quietly she will have implied shame, if she says “good for you” she would be crossing a line since she isn’t a trained counselor, if she said “there now poor thing” she crosses another line. She’s a woman who by working at the job she works at defends the choice you care so much about.
You get the brave mom of the week award for this post.
lildb,
I too have an “onslaughter” who’s 11 months old. And I gave up a career that I may not be able to get back into because he came along. At times I hate it. At times I love it. I also know I am blessed to be able to stay home and not have to work and take care of him as well.
However, (to reference Emily’s comment) I find it funny that in our society a person who kills a pregnant woman can be charged with 2 murders. Why is it that when a child is wanted anyone else killing it is a murderer, but abortion is perfectly fine? Why the double standard? And please don’t think I’m calling mothers murderers. That is the furthest thing from my mind.
I understand that our society doesn’t protect and help women through pregnancy and child-rearing. I know that until we have the systems and most importantly the RESPECT in place there will continue to be abortions because the women don’t feel like they have any other choice.
Do I still feel like abortion should be illegal? Yes. But I know that it would make life incredibly more difficult for some people and I wish I could do something about that.
A very powerful post. And I agree with your sentiments. I believe in choice and women’s ability to have control over their bodies. Still, it’s hard to think about the actual act of it.
Beautiful post on what can be such an ugly topic (or at least the way we treat one another over it can be ugly).
I have only sat on the infertility side and then the pregnant and wanting the baby side. HOWEVER, my much older half-sister had an abortion with a coat hanger back in 1969. It was a botched job in that she was physically damaged from it and emotionally scarred by not having true professionals by her side.
Ladies, in one of the recent editions of “Our Bodies Ourselves” there is a picture of what happens when women do not have access to a safe legal abortion. My heart stopped when I saw that picture. The woman was dead and that is all I will say. I won’t go into the details on Mrs. Chicken’s blog.
I have studied Christian ethics where this issue is concerned and have concluded that there is a difference between life and potential for life. Still, I respect the passion on each side, the passion to protect the vulnerable — whether that is the woman or the zygote, embryo, fetus, baby inside her.
Thanks again, Mrs. Chicky
Thanks for tackling this.
For a topic so concrete, it’s certainly not black and white.
Initially, I was going to say I’d opt for separating the areas better, but on second thought, I’m not sure that insulating ourselves against that which makes us uncomfortable is the right direction to head.
What is an unplanned pregnancy these days? A broken condom and refusal to take the morning-after-pill? A lapsed birth control prescription? A night of drunken indiscretion and once again refusal to take the morning-after-pill?
It all seems like a consequence of a careless and thoughtless person. Does anyone have the right to kill a human being because of carelessness? I believe that’s manslaughter for recognized humans. Twenty years ago, I would have agreed that women, in the absence of other preventative measures, had little choice but ProChoice. But today, with all of the birth control available before, during, and after the act of sex–what excuse is there for an abortion?
Tough topic, hon, but well done tackling it.
I will always be pro-choice but I will admit that after becoming pregnant the first time the issues became very personal. My heart goes out to anyone who has to make that choice.
And, unfortunately, your last commenter seems to have missed the point. I’ve never known a rape victim, who because of someone else’s rage became pregnant, ever to be a “careless and thoughtless person”.
I’ve been pro-choice my whole life, and the older I’ve gotten, the more anti-abortion I have become. The two opinions/ideals/beliefs live together in me. (Funny how it is often suggested that is not possible.) I believe in the right to choose. I just wish no woman ever had to choose THAT. It makes me cry.
Krista, I respect your statement. Totally and completely. I just wanted to make it clear that I respect even *more* the mantra “to each her own.” That’s the thing. It’s an individual’s choice. One should not be forced to explain to a staunch anti-abortionist that they were raped in order to feel entitled to an abortion. That is the pregnant person’s own business, just as what she does with the contents of her uterus, as well as her sex life. Let’s face it; our sexual selves are not separate, tidy aspects of our lives. They are part and parcel of what is a messy, confusing business: living.
I’m simply saying: I don’t owe anyone any explanations as to why I got an abortion. I got one. It was necessary because I *say so*. It was no one’s choice but mine. I was lucky to be living in a place where access to a safe, medical procedure for such was at my disposal. I want that for all women who are faced with such an agonizing decision; and I want them to have the right to make that decision on their own, without anyone else trying to arbitrate for them. The decision itself is hard enough without that.
Individual choice. That is what I defend. Freedom and liberty and equality for all, not just for the people without a uterus, and not just for those with a uterus who think they ought to decide for a uterus that is not inside them.
This is simply a matter of “live and let live.” It is.
And I agree about the separation of the rooms; if that were to happen, it would just be that much easier for us to tell ourselves the quiet story of why it’s a shameful thing for a woman – our reproductive journey. I’m not ashamed. I don’t have any reason to be.
Thanks again, Mrs. Chicken, for such a provocative and brave entry.
I am a fairly new reader to your blog. I skipped most of the comments because I don’t care to hear the debate. I just wanted to delurk and say beautiful post. I too would stand up and defend those rights, but I too would feel uneasy in that waiting room.
Thanks for the great post, Mrs. C. I’m not going to get involved in the debate since several others have voiced my own opinion (because it’s theirs as well).
Just one thing, though, Planned Parenthood does not perform abortions. They do, however, recommend doctors that do (yours included).
Once again, you have captured in words the emotions of a mother. I am pro-choice as well, but…after having my daughter it certainly makes me think differently.
beautiful post. i too go to this practice. i had a terrible miscarriage that required a d&c, followed by fertility issues and then finally i had a beautiful baby boy. i’ve been all over that waiting room. i am strongly pro-choice but your post said it beautifully.
This is a great post. I myself though am all about choices and feel that abortion is not a choice that should be made unless it’s due to rape or something along that line. I believe with my whole heart and sole that woman now a days have other choices that were not available in years past.
Having said that though I still stand in the line with you that woman have the right to choose!
This is yet another issue that illustrates how paradoxical motherhood can be. For you (and so many of your commenters) the paradox is being pro-choice, but feeling so uneasy about it. For me, it’s not feeling at all conflicted about my pro-choice stance, and wondering if that somehow makes me less of a mother. It doesn’t, of course. Rationally speaking, I know I’m all the mom my kids need. And they’re the only ones I want referring to me as “mommy.”
Brilliant post. Comments are thought provoking too. Thank you.
I go to the same doctor, I was just there for routine blood work. We may be trying (or I guess we are) for our first child, so this post hit me close to home. I too have observed the same type of exchange you overheard, and it is uncomfortable to say the least. I do agree with the comment regarding the receptionist needing to be removed emotionally from the discussion she is having on the phone; however, it is unfortunate that the current space and layout does not allow for those of calls to be answered “in the back”. I also have gone to the “other side” for a different procedure related to an irregular pap, and I never thought about the stigma I may have had sitting there (on valium), with my husband, waiting to go in. I am pro-choice but certainly know my thoughts on the subject have changed from when I was in college to now, happily married. I think your post was beautiful; it was the post that finally made me comment after months of lurking.
Great entry. I do wish that practice would have their reception staff be a little more discreet (I don’t go there, though I was looking into it just today). Just a touch, you know? I mean, that kind of indiscretion at a law office or in an academic office by a receptionist would definitely be seen as unseemly.
Now, about that broad brush used in an above comment:
EC isn’t readily available to a lot of people, especially those who live in rural areas who might not have easy transportation within the 72 hour time frame. It’s also still heavily stigmatized in some areas – it’s not like going to buy a pack of gum. Just sayin’.
Up until a few years ago, the morning-after pill, taken correctly, still had a 25% failure rate. Which meant, obviously, that 1 in 4 women who used EC after their birth control failed (or whatever) still got pregnant. I think the Plan B regimen is much more effective now, but it still has a failure rate. What should women do when it fails?
I have two kids. I’m pro-choice.
I loved this post. Powerful stuff, lady.