My Mom says she is a murderer. She first told me when I was 12 in one of her typically passive monologues, explaining before my younger brother was born there were multiple abortions.
Although she’s pro-choice, her pain sounds more like guilt, divulging that one fetus had Edward’s syndrome, another was a late-term miscarriage that required an abortion. I’ve always wondered if she internalized messages from pro-lifers outside the abortion clinic.
A journalist, Mom reported on a lot of crime in my youth. Often death row inmates would send long love letters or call collect to chit chat with Mom. The only house rule: always accept any penitentiary callers. These inmates, they needed my Mom. But I’ve realized, my Mom also needed them. In ways I still can’t understand, my Mom felt a connection. These convicts shared something fundamental with my Mom, they too were perceived murderers. They understood Mom’s pain or guilt. I’ve always wondered what they talked about together, did she tell them about her abortions, were they her confidantes or her therapists?
I’ve personally never experienced an abortion, but I’ve supported many friends through them. None have outwardly identified with Mom, as murderers, perhaps because our generation has always had the freedom of choice. Now, without autonomy, without power, without the right to decide what is best for our health and future, will we all be incriminated?