As a Christian woman, I don’t often discuss this topic. But John McCain’s reference to the "extreme left's" health argument during last night’s debate caught my attention and caused me to think about the days of my own past when I was adamantly against abortion.
I come from a long line of old-fashioned, Southern Christians who are known for upholding the "fundamentals." My grandmother, a devoted Baptist, was ostracized by her congregation when my mother became pregnant with my brother at 15 years of age by a 30 year-old man. Grandma didn’t believe in abortion. "We just don’t do that. Respectable women don’t do that," she told my mother. They lived in a small town in the mid-seventies, and there were no programs available to help my mother cope with the stress and loneliness felt by many young women when they become pregnant. A teacher who discerned my mother’s delicate situation reported her to the school principal. He confronted my mother openly, telling her that if the rumors about her pregnancy were true, then she would no longer be welcomed at her school. She dropped out while she was in the 10th grade and gave birth to my brother at the tender age of 16.
More to come...
The years went on and the man who fathered my brother disappeared from the scene. She met my father and I was born when she was 18. Then they were married. When I became a teenager, my mother and I discussed the birds and the bees, which led to the subject of abortion. She told me her story and how abortion was not an option. She repeated my grandmother’s mantra about what "respectable women didn’t do." She also talked about how God wouldn’t forgive me (which is not Biblical, but who’s gonna argue with Mama?) Our conversation coupled with my upbringing was enough to launch me into adulthood as a staunch believer in "Life" versus "Choice," until I entered college- which is where my perception of this very important topic changed forever.
My college dormitory room had enough room for three students- two "bunks" and a single twin bed. I was to share a room with two twin sisters (Kim and Karen) who were from a town about an hour away. Yet, to my surprise, Kim was the only one who registered on move-in day. We didn’t get along. At first, I suspected that it was due to our long list of differences. Then, it became apparent that she was shutting me out for reasons other than our clear disagreements over when the television should be off for the night. She didn’t want me to get too close to her because her family had a secret.
Kim’s parents had abused drugs since she was a small child. Her mother left when she was nine, leaving Kim, her twin sister Karen, and their five younger siblings to be cared for by their father. He would call the dormitory at odd times of during the night to chastise her for not being in our room when he expected her to be, even though she only left our room to attend her classes and work at her part-time job. She would take our phone into the bathroom for privacy, but I could still hear her crying during their conversations. One night, during a heated argument, I heard her scream at him that she hated him. She hung up the phone, stormed into our room and jumped into bed. We weren’t friends, but I had to do something. I asked what was wrong, and her answer changed my life.
She explained that since her mother’s exit from the home, she and her sister had assumed the motherhood role at their house-- in more ways than one. Kim’s father would often punish them for the deeds of their mother. When they were sixteen, that punishment escalated from physical abuse to sexual attacks. Kim and Karen were afraid that if they turned their father in, their younger siblings would become wards of the state, so they decided to stay until they were eighteen and could fight for custody.
After their senior year in high school, Kim’s father became more abusive. She perceived that it was because they wanted to leave for college. Their real goal was to come to the big city for one semester to get an apartment so that the courts might view them favorably when they started their legal proceedings. Before that could happen, Karen discovered that she was pregnant- by her own father.
When Karen suggested that her father pay for an abortion, he became outraged, accusing her of plotting to "get him in trouble at the hospital." He basically locked her in the house, even refusing to take her to the doctor for exams. The stress became so overwhelming that she became severely depressed. On the evening of the phone call Kim had gotten, Karen had given birth to a partially developed fetus on their bathroom floor and had to be rushed to the hospital. The trauma had scarred 18-year-old Karen’s emotional stability and her womb irreversibly.
In the weeks following all of this, Kim and I became close- understandably because I was now the keeper of her family’s secret and her ally. I thought about Grandma and Mom, and what their values meant to them. Then I thought about Karen, whom I’d never met, but whose story had become so important to me. I tried to justify the standard Christian position, and found that I could not. I realized that God is concerned with our physical and emotional health, and that Karen had not escaped with either of them. It just didn’t seem right.
I know that if she had been given the choice, she would have chosen emotional health. If she had ended her pregnancy, she might be able to have children today. (Consequently, she was married this August. She and her new husband are likely to adopt).
In response to Senator McCain’s sneer at Senator Obama’s position that the health of a woman is important when it comes to matters as delicate as these, I say: Shame on you. Senator McCain, matters such as these are sad, but they happen in America all the time. I invite you, sir, to rethink your argument.