The epiphany that I had was in how I had previously told my story and why. In the past when I would share my abortion experience with others I would say things like; "I was only nineteen.", "I was in college at the time.", "The father was not around.", "I was only about thirteen weeks along", etc. As I listened to the other women at the event and planned out my own story all of these statements came into my head. It was then that I realized these statements were not an accurate representation of my story but rather a series of excuses I had been telling other people so that they would "understand" why I had an abortion… Because as we all know our culture has declared abortion to be a bad thing and women who have abortions to be bad people unless they have a compelling enough story. I decided I could not share these statements as I do not believe I am different than any other woman who has an abortion and I fully support EVERY woman's decision to abort whenever and for whatever reason.

Instead of telling the crowd "my story" as it had been told in the past I instead focused on the real issues impacting me at the time of my pregnancy and abortion… My grandmother calling me and in an effort to talk me out of my decision telling me that "… an abortion will be with you the rest of your life." (as if any alternative would not); my younger sister, then just a teenager, telling me I was a "murderer" and that I should leave the house because she, "could not live with a murderer"; my mother, who after declaring her support for my decision to abort then suggested it would be best if I did leave home so as to make things easier on my sister; the many personal relationships I have encountered who declare themselves "pro-life" (though I prefer to think of them as anti-choice/anti-woman) coming out with comments such as, "I'm against abortion but you did make the right decision," "I could never have an abortion but I think others should be able to," "Well, it's not like you were using it as birth-control," and countless other thinly veiled attempts to pass judgment while appearing supportive.

Two years after my abortion I took a writing course as part of my college degree requirements. It was during this course that I wrote the following poem. I do not regret my decision and know that I made the right choice. What troubled me though was that others had different expectations about what I should have done and how I should have felt. It is this that I choose to focus on as those external to me and other women who choose to abort are not entitled to an opinion unless asked and certainly do not have the right to pass judgment.

Following is my poem. I based it on the bible story where Jesus intervenes to prevent the stoning of a woman who has "sinned". I also framed it based on the book "The Scarlet Letter". This poem has never been published. I recited it at the Speak Out and take every opportunity I can to share it…

Throwing Stones

"The Child! The Child"
That's all they keep screaming.
Some just children themselves,
Their parents feeding their minds,
Like the placenta fed their bodies not long ago.
Some hold signs depicting bloody pictures.
Running about gathering stones,
They wait for the "murderer" and "child" to approach.

"Life! Life!"
That's all they keep screaming.
Some have barely lived.
Still their small voices scream a lifetime of hate,
Hate from their parents who stand as judge.
Fists clutching sharp stones raise to take aim,
So the "murderer" and "child" can be blessed with their hate.

"Murderer! Murderer!"
That's all they keep screaming.
All grown up now,
Moral justice on their side.
The murderer stands before them,
Her judge and jury combined,
And they all throw their stones,
Over what's best for me and my "child".