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Julia Wrote

Story ID:6919
Written by:Charles Dishno (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:Letter
Location:Dillon Montana United States
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Just my views on abortion...

About 30 years ago I read this in the letters to the editor column of a local newspaper. It was written by a acquaintance of mine I will call Julia. It made such an impression on me that I copied it and have carried it with me all these years. I have shown it or read it on many occasions to women who were pregnant and trying to decide whether or not to have and abortion. This may sound funny coming from a man, but I feel very strongly about this and believe everyone should have a chance. Its Gods decision.

Chuck Dishno

Julia wrote:

Imagine arguing whether or not the life inside a woman is human or not? Should I ever conceive again, I would have no problem guessing that that moving thing, that embryo, that pulsating, swimming thing that might look no different than a salamander (as it is sometimes made reference to) cannot in fact be a salamander. No woman on this planet is able to carry anything other than a human life.

OK, now weve established that its human. So, does it have the right to live? Only, were told , if it is not the result of rape, or cause a psychological imbalance to a household, or if the woman cannot bare the stress, or now, finally, Its my body. I can do anything I want with it In short, when it is convenient we shall carry this tiny swimmer to full term.

Does this unthinking, unreasoning, unloving thing have the right to life? Why do we speak of rights? The unspeaking and unthinking cannot defend themselves with a constitution they cannot have written.

Again, man, in his ever-growing ego trip, humanizes this argument. Is it here, on this on one planet that all life begins and ends? Might there be a wonderful other life that we deprive the unborn of-where the Maker is not particular of the circumstances of the birth, or that it was a troublesome child, or deformed, or the result of no love?

And if there is no hereafter, is it not all the more reason to give this droplet of sperm and ovum, this union of man and a woman, a chance of seeing the blossoms in the spring and smell the burning leaves in October.

On a Saturday afternoon, sit and watch for an hour all of those very different faces that walk past us in a shopping mall, never seeing twice the same face or smile-the same walk or manner, not thinking for a moment that for all our suffering and sorrow, we would not trade it once for that silence that is called not being born.

The power to snuff out this uniqueness that makes a person is the power to murder. Not murdering life, mind you, but killing the chance that a new person may have of ever being able to say, Give me where to stand, and I will move the earth.