10/06/2034 12:12 AM ET

OPINION

I Love My One-Week Old Son, So I'm Aborting Him

Clair Vassiliano
Mother, woman, sometimes little girl

CC0 1.0 Image by greyerbaby | Writer image: CC BY 4.0 Girl with sweater by Juilien Belli | Images were cropped. Images used for illustration purposes only.

They say what goes around, comes around. I like to think about this when I think of Sam.

My son was born four days ago, at Mount Sinai hospital. My husband Terrence, and I had been expectantly waiting on our little guy for six years before he finally came along.

I remember first seeing his little form on the ultrasound. It was a little miracle, a precious piece of love, inside me, just waiting to say hello to a waiting world. I watched as his hand clenched and unclenched and he wriggled. He was kind enough to kick a little and the incongruity between what I saw on the screen - which seemed like a movie somewhere, somehow - and what I felt, which was all too real, was almost overpowering. I wept and knew I would love my son. I already was in love with him.

We did all the stuff you do: we painted a room, picked out some stuffed toys and bought a crib. I played music to him before going to sleep, so he'd feel relaxed. I wrote letters to him, one for his first birthday, one for his fifth birthday, his tenth, his sixteenth, eighteenth, for his wedding day, and so on...future messages from Mommy who loved him.

My heart ached for my little guy, to be his in this real world.

The world became much more real to me two days before I gave birth. I visited Terrence at work. He was not available. He was not available ten minutes later. When I enquired as to his whereabouts, his assistant mumbled something about a meeting. Her eyes left mine.

I left and as I walked into the street, I saw him and a woman, hand in hand. My world ended that day. I screamed at him that night with eight months of pent-up hormones unleashed on him. His apologies disappeared into my rage.

It was completely unworkable. I demanded he not be there for the birth (my mother and father were able to be there) and two days after giving birth, filed for and received my divorce. That was two days ago.

I was then faced with the prospect of a newborn, a fresh divorce, a relocation, all on one income (my maternity leave covered 75% of my gross pay).

It was clearly too much. Too much for me, too much for my parents to help with, and definitely too much for my sweet baby Sam. Life was too much. I knew I couldn't give him everything he deserved. I knew I couldn't give him the hopes, the dreams, the future he would need. The next few months were beyond me - how could I dream of affording college?

I applied for a PBA (Post-Birth Abortion) kit and one was droned to me via Amazon. I received it in two hours. Since Clarke v. Tennessee only allows for a PBA within the first week, the patch will degrade on Monday.

If this were a country which actually cared for women and respected their rights (thank you, Republicans), people like me would not be in this position. If I actually had time to think this through, I would likely have a chance to find a job, get settled, ensure my finances were in order before considering whether or not to abort my son. With three days, I'm forced into doing it.

We need to push for legislation to give mothers at least six months to determine whether their individual situation is conducive to raising children. We need to trust women to do the right thing. To give them the choice in how and when and under what circumstances they raise a family. Anything less is not choice. It's dictation by the men who want freedoms which don't apply to us.

Anything less is not parental justice.
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