Posted by: inforodeo | February 1, 2011


As a male who was involved in an abortion, I believe the term “Pro-Choice” is a deceptive misnomer.

Until my girlfriend became pregnant, I was also “pro-choice”. Because of my religious background, I felt “choice” was an important thing – without it we couldn’t choose between right and wrong, and if we couldn’t choose, what was the point of determining what is right or wrong?

When she announced our pregnancy, I freaked out. I was not prepared for the responsibility. I rushed around looking for a better paying job, began trying to sell my most valued “toys”, and made some huge commitments to myself in changing my lifestyle so I’d be a good father.

She waited a few days and then announced it was *her* choice, not mine, and she had made an appointment to go to (Planned Parenthood) for an abortion.

The next few days were some of the darkest moments of despair I’ve experienced in my life. I believed abortion was akin to murder, and I did not want to be party to such a horrific and irreversible act. I was convinced I was going to be thrust into damnation for allowing it to continue.

I am not and never have been a violent person, but for those few days I contemplated heavily various arguments to stop her, but knew in the end that she had a legal right under our laws to make that decision.

I brought up arguments anyway. She told me that a pregnancy wouldn’t affect me like it would her, that she “wouldn’t be able to still party” (not making that up!), and eventually added some arguments her friends made, including a strange quasi-religious argument about reincarnation and a threat that I “wouldn’t be a man” if I didn’t go to her appointment with her and hold her hand while the procedure was done.

The sickening day came, and I sat in what looked like a small dingy dentist’s office while a couple nurses explained the “procedure” and used a device called a “manual vacuum aspirator” (those words still make my stomach tense up) to kill and destroy our child. One of the nurses noticed the look of terror on my face and summoned a male nurse or doctor to enter the room, and I felt it was more for “security” than any kind of health reason.

I learned from this experience that “choice” is the most incorrect word to have been used to describe her decision.

  • It was not my choice, as the father.
  • It was not her mother or father’s choice as grandparents.
  • It was not my parents’ choice as grandparents.
  • It was not the choice of cousins, of future friends, of any of those years down the road who would have benefitted from association with the child,
  • and it cannot be said that the child chose to have its physical body chopped up and tossed in the trash.

How is the choice of one, against the choice of many, “Pro-Choice”?

It took a lot of years, visits to my spiritual advisor and large amounts of hope to “forgive myself”. I no longer harbor ill feelings toward the ex-girlfriend, but my disgust at the sin will never be gone.

Don’t fool yourself with that word. It is a lie. It has no weight. It is meaningless and distracts from the grim reality of what it entails. If God wants us to have the freedom to choose and decide (and I believe he does), then go for the option that provides the most freedom to the most people, not the one that provides the least.


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