Help! I can hardly walk down the street these days without running into some pro-life protester waving a picture of my partial-birth abortion! I never wanted those photos to get out in the first place, but now that Congress is considering a ban on late-term abortions, it’s only getting worse. Petitions, billboards on the interstate, leaflets—those photos of that bloody little fetus all hacked apart on a surgical steel table are everywhere. Listen up, Right-To-Lifers: I want the pictures of my partial-birth abortion back!
As you probably guessed, I’m pro-choice. But even though I firmly support a woman’s right to choose, I was still pretty embarrassed about having an abortion, and I don’t want to be constantly reminded of the mistake I made that put me in that position. So may I please have those gruesome photos back? Please? Pretty please?
I realize those partial-birth pictures are very desirable. After all, out of all the abortions performed in this country, less than one percent are done at that late stage. Most of those occur because the woman’s health is in jeopardy or genetic defects were discovered in the fetus. But I wasn’t in any danger. And my fetus looked like a perfect little unborn child—a definite plus for the posters. So I can see why the pro-lifers would be so eager to use them. But the bottom line is: My abortion, my photos.
Call me screwed up. I admit it. It’s probably the reason it took me five months to admit to myself that I was even pregnant. That’s me, Crazy Sara. But even though I was in no position to raise a child, I still didn’t want an abortion. It wasn’t until the doctor found out about all the drinking and Ecstasy that… well, the rest is history. Only, it’s not history because now I can’t run into the supermarket for a gallon of milk without bumping into some born-again Christian wearing a T-shirt sporting my mangled unborn son under the words “God Is Pro-Life.”
Yes, I should’ve been more careful with the snapshots. I showed them to a few people, who in turn showed them to a few people, but they were interested. Okay, so I may have let a couple people borrow them, but they swore it was just to show their closest friends. I didn’t expect that those pictures would fall into the wrong hands and one day come back to haunt me. Now I know how Vanna White felt when she turned up in Playboy.
I’ve made all sorts of efforts to get those photos back. I left a bunch of messages at both In-His-Name Signs and Trinity Silkscreeners. I’ve approached protesters and tried to wrestle the signs out of their hands. I even put up flyers around town with a photo of the photos and a $500 reward for their return. Nothing has worked.
You say he was a child, not a choice. Well, if that’s the case, wherever he is right now, he’s probably not too thrilled to be looking down at all those pictures of the day he got yanked out of my uterus. So for his sake, not mine, could you please give ’em back? I’d really appreciate it.
