My mother never graduated from college. She gave up her academic dreams to marry my father and raise me and my siblings. Although my existence was unplanned, my parents never made me feel it was unappreciated. They are the bravest people I know, and they made it clear that I was, and still am, loved. In 1971, my mother’s choice gave me a future.

I tried to watch the third video revealing the horrors of Planned Parenthood’s fetal organ trafficking business, but I could not finish it for two reasons: one, I’m the father of three beautiful children; and, two, if a scared young woman had made a different choice in 1971, I would not be a father, or writing this.

In 1971, a sailor from Maine was stationed at the Naval Air Station in Beeville, Texas. He met a young Mexican woman, and they hit it off. Thankfully, I am unaware of the details, but at some point in their relationship I entered the world. I was conceived out of wedlock, and my mother had a choice.

A few years ago, my mom handed me an envelope on which she’d written, “Pray before you read this, in a quiet moment.” In that letter, these words stood out: “Still in school, offered a full scholarship to anywhere in the U.S., barely knew your father. So for a moment, abortion crossed my mind. I know family members who had done that, so I knew no better. But, I did not.”

My mother grew up poor and did not speak English until she entered public school, where she excelled. Her intelligence and academic success provided her the opportunity to study at universities without cost. A woman who grew up in poverty was given a path to escape.

At that moment, the only thing standing between my mother and the plans she had for her life was what pro-abortion advocates would describe as a “small clump of cells” growing inside her, the result of a mistake and an inconvenience easily remedied. When I entered the world, my existence was a cause for fear and shame instead of celebration, and I literally owe my life to a decision made by a woman who was barely out of her teens, a decision she would summarize later in four words: “But I did not.”

Human Lives Are Not Slogans

Some will read this and wonder why they should care about the life story of a random writer from Maine, a story that I don’t even like to think about. The best answer I can give is that it’s not about me. It’s about “Baby 11.6” and the millions of other stories that will remain untold.

Since January 22, 1973, discussions of abortion tend to be focused on it as an “issue.” Society has debated the legality of the Supreme Court’s decision, and the morality of abortion. Far too often, the abortion debate descends into a morass of anger, euphemism, defensiveness, and derivative issues. We argue about terms and definitions, spout slogans, and wave signs in an attempt to persuade one another and change laws. The legality and morality of abortion are important questions, but focusing on the arguments has allowed society to look away from the reality of abortion, a reality that has been brought into brutal focus with the release of the Planned Parenthood videos.

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