By Nika Anschuetz
My mother was faced with a choice: carry me to term or abort me. She chose life and I became one of the millions of Chinese babies born in 1994.
In the wake of the controversy surrounding Planned Parenthood, it’s easy to talk about fetuses or babies – whichever term you prefer to use – when they are arbitrary numbers.
It can also be easy to focus on the woman — rather than the baby she might choose to abort. Our hearts sympathize for the woman because we see her in the flesh. We can see her pain, anguish and anxiety.
But we don’t want to picture the baby. We see cells or undeveloped tissue. We see numbers, facts and figures.
Not me. I see myself in these numbers.
When I read about the 327,653 abortion services that Planned Parenthood conducted in the last year, I think about my birth mother who carried me to term.
When I read about the 1,800 adoption referrals, I think about the person who found me at a railroad station and placed me into foster care.
Numbers matter, but so do people.