Dear Woman Who’s Getting an Abortion Tomorrow
Dear Friend,
I read your letter.
It was to the unborn child you plan to abort tomorrow. You posted this note anonymously on Reddit for the world to see, so I can’t be sure that you even exist or that your letter was sincere. This could be some kind of sick joke. You could be a pro-choice propagandist, fabricating another story to help get rid of the ‘taboo’ surrounding infanticide. I don’t know. But I’m going to assume, right now, that this is all legitimate. I’m going to speak to you like you are real, like you are really planning to do this, because whether you are or not, everything I’ll say to you also applies to any woman in the same position.
I tried my best over the past week to figure out a way to contact you personally. I guess that was a futile effort to begin with. You didn’t post your name or contact information, which makes sense. The good folks at Reddit are apparently deleting any responses on your thread that don’t consist entirely of “congrats” and “atta girl,” so I couldn’t reach out to you that way, either. I’m left with this as my only option.
Before I go further, I think we should revisit what you wrote. I’m sure you remember, but here it is:
Little Thing:
I can feel you in there. I’ve got twice the appetite and half the energy. It breaks my heart that I don’t feel the enchantment that I’m supposed to feel. I am both sorry and not sorry.
I am sorry that this is goodbye. I’m sad that I’ll never get to meet you. You could have your father’s eyes and my nose and we could make our own traditions, be a family. But, Little Thing, we will meet again. I promise that the next time I see that little blue plus, the next time you are in the same reality as me, I will be ready for you.
Little Thing, I want you to be happy. More than I want good things for myself, I want the best things for the future. That’s why I can’t be your mother right now. I am still growing myself. It wouldn’t be fair to bring a new life into a world where I am still haunted by ghosts of the life I’ve lived. I want you to have all the things I didn’t have when I was a child. I want you to be better than I ever was and more magnificent than I ever could be. I can’t do to you what was done to me: Plant a seed made of love and spontaneity into a garden, and hope that it will grow on only dreams. Love and spontaneity are beautiful, but they have little merit. And while I have plenty of dreams to go around, dreams are not an effective enough tool for you to build a better tomorrow. I can’t bring you here. Not like this.
I love you, Little Thing, and I wish the circumstances were different. I promise I will see you again, and next time, you can call me Mom.
-h
The media has gushed over your abortion vow. In fact, a very dense woman at Cosmopolitan went so far as to call your letter “heartwarming.”
Heartwarming.
Something tells me that your heart doesn’t feel too warm right now.
I felt the sadness and hesitation in your words. The fact that you published it in the first place proves that you are not completely sure about what you are planning to do. I think you want to be talked up or talked down. You want to hear what people have to say about it, which is the only reason anyone ever posts personal things on the internet.
I felt the uneasiness.
I felt the sense of loss.
I felt the desperation.
And I felt the love.
I did. I really did.
You love your child. You want your child to be happy. You said that yourself, and I believe you.
But this is not the way, friend. This is not the way.
Who am I to say this to you? Nobody, really. I’m nobody. I’m nothing. But your child is someone. You child is something. Your child is real and he is here and he is itching to meet you and thank you for giving him life. A life that he will only have once and never again.
If you want your baby to have what you didn’t have and feel the joy that you never felt, now is the time to hand him that gift. Now is the only time. There will not be another. You said that you cannot be the baby’s mother right now, but you are the baby’s mother right now. There is only now, friend, and this is a moment that will never be repeated. You can choose death or choose life, but there will not be a redo or a second chance. This is it. This is everything…
Continue reading Matt Walsh’s heartfelt and sincere response.
