The pro-abortion BuzzFeed News published a bizarre, meandering essay by Adriana Widdoes, one of its new writers about why she does not regret aborting her unborn baby.
“Not all abortions are tragic — sometimes, like periods and the other ways we bleed, they’re just a thing that happens,” she wrote of aborting her unborn baby right around her 28th birthday.
Though Widdoes wasn’t living in the best of circumstances – she mentioned cockroaches in her apartment, she had a graduate degree, a loving boyfriend and supportive friends when she discovered she was pregnant.
Daleen and I were both seemingly grown, both with graduate degrees and gym memberships, both renting one-bedroom apartments in Hollywood — only Daleen’s was on the more respectable end. Mine was pushed up against the Metro red line and infested with roaches. Additionally, my apartment came with a sweet, adoring boyfriend I couldn’t convince myself to want to marry, no matter that for seven years he loved me the way he did, with a kind of cherubic grace you just don’t hear about in Hollywood, and no matter how badly I wanted my story to unfurl in clean, white lines on paper.
Such were the frustrated circumstances of my life when I vomited in a Dunkin’ Donuts bathroom and discovered I was pregnant. It was the week before my 28th birthday. The Future! I thought, staring into the putrid, porcelain expanse of the toilet bowl. It wasn’t glamorous, but was it All Right?
I ordered a sausage-egg-and-cheese breakfast sandwich and thought about my one-bedroom apartment next to the subway — the roaches, the leaky gas stove, the anonymous grifter who kept smearing excrement on the sky blue Toyota Prius I inherited from my sister — and decided to schedule an appointment for an abortion as I soon as I could muster the words to tell my boyfriend, who was living temporarily back east for a job. By the time I did tell him, it was my actual birthday — number 28. And in response, he asked whether any part of me felt excited to know I could get pregnant, as if I hadn’t already carried the burden of that knowledge around with me — the messy red-brown muck of it — since I was 11 years old.
A few days after her abortion, she hosted a birthday party for her friend, still bleeding from the procedure that took her unborn baby’s life.
“I wore a black velvet mini-dress and, because I was still bleeding, a giant menstrual pad, which I held securely in place with a pair of Spanx,” Widdoes wrote. “That night I didn’t think much about my boyfriend, or even the baby that could have been.”
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In the lengthy, hard to get through piece, she brought in pop culture, 19th century artwork and other subjects in relation to her abortion. She took a hit at the popular song “Brick” by Ben Folds, in which the artist expresses his anguish after his girlfriend aborted their child. First, she criticized Folds for feeling “’numb’ and ‘alone,’ despite his girlfriend being the one actually having the experience” – as if fathers have no right to feel bad when their unborn child is aborted.
Widdoes went on: “[The song] suggest that — politics aside — abortion is sad for everyone. Abortion does feel sad for some women, and that’s OK.”
She implies that she did not feel bad at all about aborting her own flesh and blood. Rather, she focused on the discomfort of bleeding heavily after aborting her unborn baby.
Her abortion still was wrong, though. No matter what a woman’s experience with an abortion, they all have one thing in common – a dead child. The purpose of an abortion is to kill that child, and that is exactly why it is wrong. An abortion not only denies a unique individual human being life, but it also violently destroys their life when they are the most vulnerable.
Abortions are not just about women. They do not just involve bleeding, discomfort, awkward conversations. They involve two human beings – a mother and a child – and all human beings deserve the right to live free from violence and discrimination.