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.