This I Believe: Choice

In my English class a couple weeks ago, we were required to write a paper on a “This I Believe” statement. Before writing it, we were supposed to read some examples from a book of the same title.

I really liked the book, and some people had really cool things to say. So, while I was outside having a cigarette, I was thinking a bit, as I tend to do, and I decided I should write more of them. Perhaps once a week or whenever the muse hits me.

But the one I wrote for class was about choice. So, here’s a slightly modified edition.



I believe in choice. I have always thought choice was hard to come by. Sometimes choices are influenced in subtle ways, and sometimes they get taken away.

Particularly, I believe in the choice of parenting - to be or not to be.

Growing up I never wanted to have kids, not since I was three years old. Everyone always laughed when I told them this. They said I would change my mind.

Then, the summer after my junior year of high school, I found out that I was pregnant. I knew that I did not want a child. My mom had always told me that women should not have abortions unless they were raped or in danger due to the pregnancy. She said it took two to tango and that women had to suffer the consequences. I took this to heart from a young age, and when I found out that I was pregnant, I felt I had no moral choice other than to be a mother.

For three years, I struggled every day with my decision - my previous interpretation of a moral choice. I decided not long after my son’s birth that this stance I had adopted from my mother was wrong, but it did not alleviate my struggle. I gave up post-secondary school for work and ended up feeling trapped.

During this time, I became pregnant again. A short week and half fling with the father of our son resulted in the unwanted pregnancy that began to unravel all my closest relationships.

I had been dating another guy at the time, and the guilt was unbearable. Not knowing how to admit to it, I hid the pregnancy from him and all our friends. I hid the pregnancy from my mother and the rest of my family. I knew my mother’s feeling on abortion, so I didn’t want her involved. And if anyone knew, she would find out.

Because I did get an abortion after verifying the pregnancy through blood work at the hospital. Single mom, already the mother of one unwanted child, living with her parents, and working a low income job. I knew I could not have another child. And I still know to this day, that despite all the heartache the situation fostered, it was the best decision.

But all secrets come to light. The day after the abortion, a letter arrived in the mail from the hospital - a pregnancy confirmation. My mother opened it while I was out.

Then the phone tag begun. My mom couldn’t reach me, so she reached my friend who reached the friend I was with who handed the phone to me, and suddenly everyone knew something was up, and they put the pieces together.

After this, things began to fall apart. I started pushing away unintentionally, fueled by guilt, grief, and anger. My emotional distance caused a fight with the friend my mom had called, the friend I had been with, hurt from my detachment, asked me for time away, and the fights began with my parents.

Never so alone, I moved back to Indiana with barely a goodbye. In my attempt to find more choices in the direction of my life, I found myself feeling more trapped than ever before because now I was a single, working mom with no support system.

Thank the stars for my wonderful friends, we were able to reconnect. Sometimes, there is still guilt for me, but I trust them when they say they have forgiven me. And for that I am thankful, always. They also helped me reconnect with my mother. But the pain of parenting was still very real…

Finally, I worked up the courage to call my mom. She knew how I felt about being a mother, and at last, I informed her that I made my choice. As she had offered before, I asked her to take my son and raise him. We discussed all the details, made the plans and plotted the time line. Then, just several weeks before she was due to move closer to Indiana for us to begin the process, she unexpectedly passed away on May ninth this year.

Hurt again by my choice being stolen, I was also devastated with the loss of my mother. I suddenly had nowhere else to turn to. My step dad could not raise him because he is a widower in the United States Army, and no one else in my family has the time or resources to raise another child. I wept for both my losses.

Now, it has been half a year later, and I have taken my choice into my own hands. I do not blame my mother for unintentionally instilling in me her personal idea of morality. I no longer beat myself up for not wanting to be a parent. I do not hold a grudge against the people who have said they will help and then fell through. I do not resent my friends for turning away when I needed guidance the most because I know I hurt them too…

I have made the choice to be a parent. It may not be the choice I wanted, but it is the one that I commit to every day. Some days I still falter, but I get up and make the choice again. I believe in choice because it has the power to change, and it has the power to heal, and healing is always a choice I will make. I choose to tell my son I love him because I have all along. Parenting is not the path I wanted, but now it is the path I have come to choose.