Written by Melissa Ohden.
Used with permission.
“Oh, that second one changes EVERYTHING!” Funny how, in the blink of an eye,
everything changes. Your family of three is suddenly a family of four, awaiting
the move of child #2 from the womb to the outside world. Your external focus on
the goings-on of the world are now turned more internally towards your
developing child and your changing, albeit happily, family. And suddenly, those
same folks who were wondering out loud for the last 3 ½ years since your first
child was born about when you were going to give her a sibling, are the same
folks who are suddenly lamenting to you about the difficulties they believe you
will experience by having a second child.
As a pro-life speaker and advocate, as an abortion survivor, I
live my work every day. I will never wake up one morning and suddenly forget
about the fact that my life was supposed to end all in the name of someone
else’s choice. I will never be able to hold my children and not consider that
they would never have existed if my biological mother’s abortion had succeeded
in ending my life. I will never not feel the calling to save and transform
lives. I will never underestimate the power of words, of the language that we
use when we talk about children, about pregnancy and adoption, and how impactful
those words really are.
During my pregnancy with Olivia, I was just so thrilled to be
pregnant that I didn’t think much about the words that I used to describe her
arrival into this world. “We’re expecting! We’re having a baby!” Ryan and I
would gush to anyone who would listen. Now that we are pregnant with our second
child, these words just don’t sit well with me when I talk about our family.
Maybe they do with some people, and I’m okay with that. I’m not passing
judgment, but simply making an observation about our family and the language of
the culture that we live in today that fails, by and large, to acknowledge that
life begins and deserves to be protected from the moment of conception.
Language is powerful and even insidious. We aren’t “expecting.” We aren’t
having. We have. We are. We are the parents of a child who just happens to be
growing in my womb right now in preparation for entering the bigger world in May
of 2012.
When Ryan and I decided to get a t-shirt for Olivia that she
could wear to proudly announce to our family and friends that she’s a big
sister, I poured and poured over the shirts available. “I’m going to be a big
sister!” most of the shirts exclaimed. I disappointedly looked at them.
Olivia’s not going to be a big sister, she is a big sister, I lamented. There
wasn’t going to be some magical time during my pregnancy or at the time of birth
that suddenly her brother or sister was going to become her sibling—they already
are siblings. The fact that one of my children is growing inside of me right
now while the other comes sneaking into our bed every night for a snuggle
doesn’t change the fact of the matter. Ryan and I are the parents of two
children. Olivia is a big sister. Our second child exists, and we are
anxiously awaiting seeing him or her face to face for the first time. We were
lucky to find just the right shirt for us that reflects our sentiments, as you
will see in Olivia’s picture above. (The radiant smile and twirling baton are
just our daughter’s extra panache).
How many times throughout any given day, though, do we use
words like “expecting” and “going to be a big sister” to describe our life
circumstances? Certainly, I understand for the sake of brevity that these words
are used (trust me, I’ve spent more time during this pregnancy explaining why we
use the words that we do to unsuspecting individuals), but for someone like me,
who as an aborted child whom miraculously lived, these words are a slippery
slope in a culture of death. It is no wonder to me that we are still fighting
the description of children like me as a ‘blob of tissue,’ ‘clump of cells,’ or
‘product of conception,’ when, even as pro-lifers, the words that we use, the
descriptions that we make about children are borderline questionable in terms of
their respect for human life.
The first time that I excitedly told a fellow pro-life
colleague that I was pregnant with our second child, instead of embracing me in
a warm hug like I’d expected, they instead slapped me on the back and laughed
heartily. “Oh, that second one changes EVERYTHING! I’ll be praying for your
patience and energy!” Now, it’s hard to put to paper what the tone of that
individual’s words were like, but I can tell you that the tone was ominous and
the laugh was far too loud and long for my liking. Maybe if they would have
tempered their comments with “but really, we’re so happy for your family,” I
would feel differently about the situation. And maybe if I wouldn’t have kept
receiving comments like that from friends and colleagues that I love and
respect, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But those same individuals who
have been anxiously waiting for us to have another child are the same
individuals who described a second child in such a matter. Yes, I was
disappointed by this behavior, but even more so, it left me thinking: If people
spoke to me, knowing my experiences and profession, in such a manner, how did
they talk to others? And even more so, even though I had a wealth of knowledge
and experience when it came to pregnancy, children, adoption and abortion, most
people don’t have that kind of base to draw from. How do the words that we use
affect them? Do the words we use, however innocently, add to the culture of
death and disrespect of human life from the moment of conception?
When I presented at the Real Choices Australia conference in
Sydney, Australia, last May, I had prepared an in-depth Powerpoint marked by
statistics and experiences of the adoption triad when it came to adoption. I
was prepared to lead a discussion about why so many young women tell me that
they would much rather end the life of their children by abortion instead of
making an adoption plan for them because of their perception that they couldn’t
“give up” their child. But as the knowledgable, professional pro-lifers from
the diverse areas of pregnancy centers, right to life organizations, foster care
and adoption agencies, and the field of education engaged in conversation with
me and one another throughout the days of the conference, I knew there was
something much more important that I needed to do. I needed to focus their
attention on the words that they were using to discuss the adoption process,
adoptees, and birthparents. “They gave them up. They were given up,” were the
predominant themes, as they are in so many places, even in our own
organizations, even in our own houses, today. This very week alone, at a
Pregnancy Center banquet in Nebraska and an educational lecture at Ohio
University, I have heard the words “given up” more times than I could count,
even after I brought up the issue.
Although, as an adoptee, I can understand the feeling that one
was “given up,” and I can only assume how painful it must be to make an adoption
plan for your child and let them go from your arms, from your care, in the grand
scheme of things, as adoptees, we were given life, and as birthparents, they
gave us life. That is a beautiful gift! And as a speaker and advocate who
travels and speaks to people around the world on a frequent basis, I can tell
you that our words are so incredibly powerful when it comes to speaking about
adoption. No one wants to be perceived as a bad mother or a bad father, someone
who “gave up” their child. Sadly, so many women share with me that they aborted
their child to avoid the judgment and condemnation of those around them.
Although each woman ultimately has a choice, I believe we have a responsibility
to use language that strengthens and supports people, that highlights the love
and selflessness that comes with adoption.
Like so many, I read with great sadness, about the passing of
Steve Jobs today, the Founder and Ex-CEO of Apple. And like many, I didn’t know
before reading the article that Steve was an adoptee. Here’s a short quote from
the ABC website regarding his life and his passing: “But that personal life - he
was given up at birth for adoption, had an illegitimate child …” What
interesting language that was used to describe his adoption, and his fathering
of a child out of wedlock! Are those words that are lifting up an amazing man
whose gifts to our world are legendary? Are those words lifting up the woman
who gave life to an extraordinarily brilliant man and made an adoption plan for
him? Are those words lifting up his child who is now mourning the loss of their
father?
Language is powerful indeed. One word can communicate so
much. One’s tone can reflect a negative or a positive connotation that is
deftly picked up by the ears of those that are in crisis or in need. Every
child is a blessing. Adoption is a gift to everyone in the adoption triad. How
very different those phrases sound, then ‘Oh, that second child!” and “given
up.” Yes, it often takes some time to retrain the way we speak to reflect our
true thoughts and values, but I believe it’s worth it. In just two short
months, my 2nd child has given me the ability to not just think, but talk about
their important life and role in our family in a manner that better reflects my
belief about the importance of every human life from the moment of conception.
Just one simple word you speak today could make the difference
in building someone up or tearing someone down. Just one simple word you speak
today could make the difference in the life or death of a child. I pray that
your words breathe life into all of those you come into contact with.
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