And a Ruth Bader Ginsburg coloring book
By Rai Rojas
Somewhere in America, a 16-year-old girl will have an abortion today. If she happens to live in one of the deep blue Democrat controlled states without parental notification laws, her parents won’t even know.
She’ll arrive at the abortion center by herself or with a friend – she’s scared and more than likely unsure of what she’s about to do and what is going to be done to her. The receptionist will ask her to wait her turn when she then will be led back to a room where her pregnancy will be confirmed. They’ll check her vital statistics (sometimes), and she’ll undress and slip into a flimsy robe, and she’ll be made to lie on a gurney.
Depending on how advanced she is in her pregnancy, the Management of Unintended and Abnormal Pregnancy (an abortion manual provided by the National Abortion Federation [NAF]) suggests she might be given “adequate cervical preparation” to make it easier for the abortionist to remove her baby.
The NAF manual contends that one of the most common osmotic dilators is Dilapan, which is administered vaginally. Unfortunately, Dilapan devices have been known to fracture and leave plastic debris in the endometrial cavity.
She probably doesn’t know any of this; she’s only 16.
Once the cervical preparation is complete, she’ll be wheeled or walked into the room where the abortion will be performed. A man she’s never met, more than likely already wearing a surgical mask, will come into the abortion chamber and complete the abortion. She’ll wait on the table, legs still in stirrups as staff – a nurse or probably a “technician” – will reassemble pieces of her baby to ensure the abortionists didn’t leave anything inside.
If the abortion center is large enough, she may be wheeled into a recovery room. After 30 or 40 minutes someone will check on her and see how much she’s bleeding. Having paid for the abortion before it is performed, discharge comes next, and she’ll walk out of the center bruised, broken, and with a box of birth control pills.
She goes home. Her parents may not know what’s she’s undergone, she’s in her room, bleeding and in pain. Relief that she’s no longer pregnant may be a passing sentiment – but as a litany of studies shows us, she’s in for a rough time.
She’s only 16 and if we are to believe a recent article in Teen Vogue, what this girl needs tonight is a small needlepoint pillow that says “We Won’t Go Back” or even a “GRL-PWR” baseball cap. The editors at Teen Vogue, clearly devoid of the least bit of understanding of the human condition suggest that the GRL-PWR cap is a perfect post-abortion gift because:
“The world can be kind of a harsh place for girls and femme-identifying people, and the most important thing you’ve got is each other. So show the world that you are not backstabbing bullies. You are kind, smart, strong, and you show up for your friends.”
Teen Vogue recommends other gifts for the post-abortive 16-year-old, each vapider, banaler, and crasser than the next: an “Angry Uterus” heating pad, a book of feminist poems, and even a sign-up sheet for abortion clinic escorts.
I sent this article to a few friends, all of whom had abortions in their teens and early 20s. I asked them to react to the suggestions.
Karen Cross, NRL Political Director, was incredulous. She reminded me that when she underwent an abortion as a teen that the experience wasn’t even real to her immediately. “I’ve often wondered if counseling soon after would have helped, but as a teen I didn’t necessarily understand the full ramifications of what I’d done,’ she said. “A girl at that age will probably be relieved because the abortion provides a resolution to a crisis in her life.”
Olivia Gans-Turner, head of American Victims of Abortion, had this to say: “This article is extremely distressing mostly because it makes no effort to understand how intimate and frightening the event so often is, especially when you are this young.”
When I asked her specifically about the Teen Vogue suggestions, she said that they were “absolutely gross.”
“Teens need to be able to cry about their decision without being told to put their feelings behind them. They don’t need to hear ‘your problem is solved.’ She needs legitimate medical care to make certain she hasn’t been injured, not a gross ‘angry uterus’ heating pad.”
“What they don’t need,” Olivia said, “are political t-shirts to wear the next day.”
A couple of hours after first asking Karen for her reaction to Teen Vogue she reached out to me, incredulous still about the post. She had processed the article further and was angry at what she described as “heartless.” Karen went on to tell me, “They’re making light of a heart-wrenching, life-altering decision that will impact the rest of your life. How dare they?”
I asked her what would have soothed her on the night of her abortion? What did you want?
She replied, “My baby!”
Her baby, she just wanted her baby – a concept the contemptuous editors at Teen Vogue can’t and won’t allow themselves to consider. She is only 16 years old, and this is happening today.