My daughter had an abortion. It’s a sentence that feels heavy and complicated, even now. I’m her mother, and I love her more than anything. I want her to be happy, I want things to be easy.
I never prepared for this – watching my daughter, my baby, face such a difficult decision. I knew I couldn’t make it for her, nor did I want to. I didn’t want to influence her because, in the end, the choice was hers to live with. Still, it tore me apart.
She was an adult, capable of making her own choices. But I still felt her weight, unable to carry it for her.
As a single mother, while she was growing up, I sacrificed so much to give her the best. I gave up dreams, made her my priority, and I did it all willingly because she was my world. I didn’t want her to go through the same struggles. Selfishly, I didn’t want my sacrifices to be in vain. I wanted her to have more freedom, more opportunities. Parenting is hard. Single parenting is even tougher. I know that first-hand. And as much as I would have supported her, I didn’t want her to be another single mother struggling to do it on her own. I wanted her to be able to put herself first.
But then there’s the other side. When she was born, she became my purpose. She lit up my world. She is the best thing that ever happened to me. I knew she would make a wonderful mother and have that same feeling of complete love. I pictured a baby, a grandchild, who I knew would be loved. It would become her world and her purpose, just like she was mine. It would be my reward for the struggles and sacrifices I had made. I fought with that thought – was I hoping she would go through with the pregnancy because I wanted her to feel the same fulfilment I had? Or was I hoping she wouldn’t because I knew how hard it would be?
But beyond my own feelings, there was the reality she faced. There was the procedure itself. Would she be okay? Was she at risk? It’s such a big decision – how could she know it was the right one? Her hormones were on a rollercoaster. She was emotionally drained. How could she make such a decision? I felt useless, unsure of how to help her. What should I say? What should I do? I needed advice, too.
The practical help we needed was available; there was help in finding a clinic and funding the procedure – things you never think you’ll need until you do. And I was so grateful those resources were there. But what about emotional support? Where do you turn? It’s a minefield – there are legal issues, beliefs and biases. How do you find someone to talk to? Someone who won’t judge, who won’t bring their own beliefs and biases into it. This wasn’t just a medical procedure; it was a life-altering moment, and my daughter needed more than just access to care. She needed support to process it all. Thankfully, we eventually found a person who listened without judgment, but why is that so hard to find?
I don’t know if I did the right thing or handled it the right way. But I hope I was there for her. I hope she felt that. I hope she found comfort in knowing she didn’t have to go through it alone. My husband, not her father, was there for both of us, every step of the way. And I can’t help but be grateful for that too, because what if she had been alone? What if she felt she couldn’t talk to us? What if she had no one to talk to? What if she had been scared and sad with no one to turn to?
Too many women face this alone, and that breaks my heart. No one should have to make this choice in silence, fear, or shame.
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This article was sent to The Third Eye to publish on behalf of a mother who’s hoping to raise awareness around a situation too many experience.