I’m sorry but I’m about to lose it here. You’re welcome to go along for the ride, but ugh:
In 1967, this is how my grandmother died. That is 45 years ago. Granted that was in the US of A so maybe we can’t fucking equate, but I’m going to because you know what? Fuck the “pro life” pieces of shit and whatever country they live in.
In 1967, my grandmother, my father’s mother was diagnosed with skin cancer and she was pregnant. Instead of pursuing treatment and aborting the child (illegal obviously but maybe could have been procured?), she died shortly after giving birth. The details, stark as they may be, have never been laid out for me. My father was 13 years old when this happened. He had an older half brother (whose father passed in WW2), and 2 younger siblings already. This was a mother of 4. And in 1967, her life was not valued enough to save. And I do know this, as my aunt Ann told me: it could have been.
My grandmother gave birth to my aunt Teresa. And promptly passed. My grandfather, being a man of the times, felt he could not handle the newborn, he gave away my aunt to distant relatives. My aunt bears this as best she can, but how can you really recover from such a fate?
As for the rest of the family, my father, born without a nose and a cleft palate, and never had any friends and thought his mother was an angel, well he has tried, but this was the absolute defining moment in his life. He recovered mostly but emotionally stunted is how I would describe it. His siblings and my grandfather didn’t fare too much better but I didn’t grow up watching them and being so angry with the world that did this to that sweet man who had a chance.
That was 45 years ago. The same. fucking. shit. is apparently happening today. And if you are pro life I say, what’s the body count? The blood is on your hands is it not? You save the child, maybe, but you lose so much more.