My whole life, whenever I’ve heard people who identify as pro-choice debate, I’ve heard the now common motto of, “It’s a woman’s body, and it’s a woman’s choice.” This is not a true statement.
Being eight months pregnant has given me insight into this. My husband and I are blessed to be having a little boy, due in December, and our son is as different from me as any other human is different from me.
While my son may be sharing my body, he is completely separate from me. He is awake at different times than I am. This is evident when I am woken up by his stretching into my bladder or kicking my lungs at 3:00 a.m. He has reacted differently than I do to the food I eat ever since he reached the stage of development where he could taste what I ate.
The author’s son, who was born after the writing of this article, but prior to his December due date.
He kicks a lot when I drink sugarless peppermint tea, but he doesn’t react at all to some of my favorite foods like buffalo wings. He even has a different racial background than I do. My heritage is Caucasian with an equal amount of Athabascan (a native of Alaska), while my husband is African-American. Our son was conceived with this different racial background, and his genetics never looked identical to mine.
I’m not giving birth to a clone here.
Being pregnant has been incredible and (I think) has given me deeper insight into human life. Giving my body so that my child can grow is totally worth it, even though it’s been tough. I get to feel connected with a human who will have different desires, different passions, different health issues, different everything.
He is not a part of my body, but my body is his home for awhile.
