Twice I’ve terminated pregnancies.
Twice I’ve marveled at my body as it exercised its potential.
Twice I’ve chosen to defer its work.
Twice I’ve mourned the identity I held before becoming “one of those”.
Twice I’ve struggled to distinguish my purpose from what’s perceived to be my body’s purpose.
Every day is lived in honour of these decisions.
I love my abortions.
I love my Self, and my Self is not just this part of my body.