Thanks to the SCOTUS/Hobby Lobby decision — the one that now puts the religious views of a corporation over a woman's right to choose— I found myself in a uniquely uncomfortable situation. Even though I've always been staunchly pro-choice, I've never really had to defend that decision before...or I guess I should say I never had grounds to defend it like I do now.
You see, I've recently lost my twin boys.
At 22 weeks pregnant, I experienced nature's own version of an abortion: my water broke suddenly at a Starbucks, leaving me alone, afraid and extremely vulnerable.
I was at the mercy of strangers, who, thankfully, helped me summon an ambulance and stayed with me until it arrived. I knew I was losing my boys before I'd ever get the chance to meet them.
And it wasn't my choice at all.
At the beginning of my pregnancy, if someone had told me that this was how it would end — with my sons being born simply to die — I might have considered the alternatives in order to spare them.
My son Damon lived for just one minute, long enough to clench his tiny hand once, something only my husband was lucky enough to see. My son Drazan, on the other hand, was “born sleeping,” as the nurse told me.
A part of me died that day, too.
And now that it's all over, and I'm dealing with the aftermath, including the infuriating fact that this horrible thing happened to my sons (and me) for no apparent reason, I am back to using contraceptives.
I cannot bear the thought of being pregnant again.
And frankly, that is no one's business but my own.
Contraception, abortion and family planning are not dirty words. They are not the consequences of being less moral than someone else. They are the needs of a woman different from you—whether she's a less-than-prepared teenager, a rape or incest survivor, or, like me, a married 30-something who can't, just CAN'T, conceive again.
She has reasons that are no one's business but her own.