Read the original letter here.
Dear Anonymous,
I recently read the letter you wrote to the “Little Thing” growing inside of you. I was deeply moved and forced to remember a little over 18 years ago when I was in your shoes. I was single, 21 years old, not ready for motherhood, nor prepared for the changes, demands and judgement a pregnancy would create in my life. Like you, I made an appointment to have an abortion. And, like you, I felt sick, awful, and “a madness in my head” that I could not escape. I felt guilt for what I was about to do, and yet a desperation so thick it left me no other choice. So, know that I get it. Oh, I so get where you are, and I know the heaviness you feel. The sadness over walking away from something that you want so badly, but just not “right now”. A “Little Thing” that fills your someday dreams, but doesn’t fit in the space that you can offer it today– I know what that kind of disappointment feels like. And I send you a big, virtual hug that says, “I love you– hang in there, sister.”
The end of my story differs from yours, and I hope you don’t mind that I share it with you, and the others out there who are facing the same devastation that we have felt– being pregnant and unprepared. I woke up the morning that I was scheduled to make the dreaded drive, and was paralyzed. I sat on the couch of my condo, keys in my hand, cash in my wallet–unable to start the movement that would lead me to say goodbye to the Little Thing that was growing inside of me. Although no larger than the head of pin, I, too, could feel it there–“twice the appetite, half the energy”–and a peculiar attachment to my heart. How could I already feel so strongly about a Little Thing I had barely discovered existed? And as I thought about who this Little Thing might be, the potential it had and the voice it might speak, I felt a peculiar attachment to its beating heart.
And this is what I would come to learn, over time. That in every human creation there is only one possible DNA combination that makes each one of us unique. That each Little Thing that grows inside of us has one shot at making it into this world, where they can be, and grow, and learn, and do, and dream, and maybe one day, choose life for the next generation of Little Things that might come at inopportune times. Will they be the one to cure cancer, win a Nobel Peace Prize for aiding world hunger, or will they quietly walk their own path? We have no idea the power and magnitude of procreation that we humans hold within us. Please know that while I respect a woman’s choice–for there are so many situations and scenarios out there that we can’t predict or solve with laws and moral codes–I would tell any woman in our shoes that there are other options–good, worthwhile, deliberate options.
The letter that you wrote to your Little Thing, I wrote a similar letter 9 months later to mine. I gave it to an incredibly strong couple who were not able to grow Little Things for themselves. And I asked them to share it with him when he was ready. It explained the same things– that timing and circumstances weren’t ideal and that while I wanted good things for myself, I wanted the best for him. Love, spontaneity, dreams, and tomorrows. Yes, I wanted him to have all of the tomorrows that this Universe would gift to him.
To my anonymous sister, and the many others out there who find themselves faced with making an overwhelming, life-altering-no-matter-what choice, please know this; there are other options where we can all enjoy tomorrow.
