I Should Have Been Aborted

I should have been aborted.


My mother had a crippling and violently abusive childhood. She grew into a loving, kind, beautiful young woman, but the scars that had been inflicted onto her from those who should have loved her remained, and eventually they began to claim her mind.

By the time I came along, she had already started her descent into emotional and psychological instability. She had three children already, and a dependant niece whom they were housing. They were a working-class family, and I imagine (and have heard it implied, though my family seldom speak of those times) that things were strained enough financially and emotionally as it was.


I was an unplanned pregnancy. In the midst of a chaotic life filled with hungry, hyperactive and emotionally challenged children, straying toddlers (my brother was not a calm-inducing child, apparently), messy family relationships and hard work, suddenly there was another problem added.


At least, that’s what our society today would have called me. A problem.

Praise God that I was born in that era and to God-fearing parents.


I say that I should have been aborted, because if my mother were to have been in that situation today, society would have told her that taking my life would be the best thing for her, for my siblings, and ultimately for me.

If not by her doctor and friends, then by social media, campaigns and feminist activists – my mum would have been encouraged to abort me, rather than endure hardship for me.


I spent a large portion of my teenage and young adult years wishing that I would die, or that I had never been born. And ironically, society fought to tell me that I deserve life, and that I belong here.

Doctors, friends, family, organisations, campaigns, celebrities and social media all fought so hard to make me believe that I should be alive. They fought to tell me that my life is beautiful, unique, and powerful. They told me that I had a purpose, and that the world wants me here.

But if I was the same person – with the same heart, the same hands and the same soul – inside my mother’s womb? Doctors, friends, family, organisations, campaigns, celebrities and social media would be fighting to say that the world is better off with me dead. My family would be better off, the economy would be better off, and ultimately, I would be better off, if I just died.


The unborn babies who were murdered today were just like me. An inconvenience.

They were my brothers and sisters who were murdered before they could plead for their lives.


To support abortion laws for all women in all circumstances is to say that boys and girls who have grown up in adopted families, broken families, low socio-economic status homes, abuse, hardship, instability and hunger are less than the lives of those who grew up “wanted” and with money.

It is an intrinsically hateful, oppressive and elitist view of human life – which I feel deeply, as one who should have been a victim of it.


By our society’s standard, I should have been aborted. And those children who I could have helped, nurtured and loved, because I know what it is to live through brokenness, are being killed before I can meet them. They are taken from me before I can tell them that they are loved, and that they are wanted; and the very people who desperately fought to tell me that I am loved and wanted are the ones who are killing them.

They are the ones telling me that I should have been aborted.


[I am aware that this issue is not always clear cut, and that care must be given to the mental wellbeing of a mother who is considering or has undergone an abortion. I’m sorry that Christians have historically been unsupportive, unwilling to listen, judgemental or aggressive in their approach on these debates. God’s love is unconditional, and nothing anyone has done can disqualify them from a relationship with Jesus; His forgiveness, love and healing]

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