Having an abortion is pro-life

So Lord Steel thinks there are 'far too many abortions.' Exactly what are 'too many' as opposed to a good number? The potentially, ludicrous logic of his comments indicates, among other things, that to speak about abortion in generalised statistical terms, to even attempt to do so is frankly missing the point. And the main point is that abortion is not the government's decision to make and cannot be looked at in terms of collective statistics. It is simply too multi-layered for that.

Abortion is, and always will be, the most personal of decisions. For many women, it will be the most agonising and frightening one of their lives, one that requires them to make a judgement that, despite the idiotic pronouncements of MPs, is not as easy as taking a number and waiting in line. And yet when they make that decision, when they have walked the floorboards late at night, speculated on what could be and what couldn't be and looked at the cold reality of their lives, many of them will still be unsure. But they will go ahead because they actually don't have a choice.

Many of these are not the 'irresponsible' young women who think abortion is just another form of contraception (this is of course another argument featuring government policies that do not dissuade teenage single mothers that we won't go into. ) These women are also not anti-life. But because we live in a world where categories are mandatory, it means that anyone who chooses an abortion is, by default, anti-life. This of course is fatuous nonsense. These are women who want the best for any baby and for themselves. Because - and this may be unpalatable to some - abortion is not just about the unborn child. It's about the woman who must ultimately consider whether she can give that child a real shot at life, indeed any sort of life. And sometimes the circumstances that have brought her to this clinic, where she is still wondering what she is doing, are more complicated and multi-layered than any government debate - even if it lasted for 100 years - could hope to discuss.

My own insight into this came in 1997. By that point I'd been taking the contraceptive pill for at least ten years without a break. I felt good on it so it was no hardship. We'd not had sex for at least four months, not unusual when things are going awry. And they were. My marriage was a mess. I was at that point in a relationship where you are lonelier than you would ever be on your own.

And then that January, in the middle of not knowing what was going on, we had sex. Who the hell knows why? Maybe it was one last time since we'd realised we were going to split up. Two weeks later my body felt odd and I immediately knew there was a problem. I'd had a stomach bug and it seems that the contraceptive pill that had not let me down through far, far more active sexual phases, chose that emotionally fraught moment in my life to do so. I brought in the pregnancy test to show my husband and then said, "Right well I have to book the abortion." He agreed.

For me there was no other choice. I was emotionally drained from the last year of trying to work it out and I simply could not risk having children because of my organic propensity to depression.* This was something I'd discussed ten years previously with both my doctor and my mother. The idea that I may be doomed to a life of even greater depression in the event of having a child - and the child would quite possibly be affected both directly and indirectly because of it - was something I knew I could never cope with. I have a hard enough time getting out of bed when the black dog hits. As my mother said, "It would be the most selfish thing to do to a child."

My own decision was made without too many visible tears, partly because it'd already been made years before and I'd gone through hell at that time. I did find it a bit troubling that, once in the clinic, they insisted on showing me the scan again. All I could think of was that anyone who'd taken as many anti-depressants in their young life as me would be chancing a non-healthy baby and why would I do that? And whether or not you think it is a dot, an embryo or a baby, the fact is that someone has to give their life to it. And I had no life to give. I'd taken all possible precautions to avoid this choice. But here I was. Just like many other women in the same position.

At the clinic, I was relatively fine but it was patently obvious many women were not. I mean emotionally. There was the woman whose husband had, just that month, walked out on her, having made her pregnant with a potential fifth child. There was the woman who dearly wanted a third but told me she had no money and even having a second had pushed her. Her and her husband had gone through hell but realised that if their other children were to have any chance, they couldn't have another child. He was crying. She was crying. There was no right and wrong. Just tragedy really.

There was the one you don't, won't ever hear about. The Indian girl. Totally silent and obviously scared, she sat in the recovery room trying to hold it together. But she couldn't. One of the other women was comforting her. It seemed she'd had a non-Indian boyfriend - itself a major transgression in her family's world and she'd used condoms but had accidentally got pregnant. If any of this had been discovered by her family she would have easily been banished or perhaps worse: an honour killing as we know is not completely off the cards, even in Britain. A friend (white) had brought her here but was not able to collect her. She would have to stay as long as she could, before going home and hoping there were no complications - which for the most part there aren't. Not physical ones anyway.

As I looked around there were not many of those young, 'silly women' around, you know the kind government MPs would shag if they had the chance. These were people who'd given their choice a lot more time than any government debate and white paper could ever do. In the end, while I acknowledge this is not an ideal occurrence, it is a reality; just as we have to have social workers to watch over children in danger and homes to house forgotten, abused children.

Like it or not, it's just the way life is. Ok? It's just the way life is. And more often than not, it means that a woman can go on and actually have a life instead of ruining hers and someone else's.

*In response to those readers who have seen the mentions of this post on Devil's Kitchen, The Telegraph (not complimentary but pretty stupid too) and Stumbling and Mumbling - and concluded that I found the child 'inconvenient' when I say 'depression' I mean the kind that is 9.75 out of 10 in severity. The kind that means I take medication so I can actually get out of bed. The kind that means I cannot, not take medication. Medication and babies do not mix. Get it? I am not talking about the kind of depression you get when your next door neighbour builds an extension and you want one too.

And while I'm at it, those men (yes it was men) who suggested that I should know that having sex makes babies..(doh) and therefore should not have had sex (somewhat bitterly I note), I stated I'd taken the pill for fifteen years. There was nothing to suggest it had not worked. Indeed it has worked since. So all my precautions put me in a position I had tried to avoid. But I still had no choice. I am in no position to try and look after a baby or even have one since I cannot come off medication that would possibly damage the baby, or I am literally unable to function in any way at all. Rock. Hard Place.

By the way, all of you people who say that I could give it to someone else may wish to adopt a girl from China, where they are stacked up in line, having been born and tossed into the bin you keep telling me about.

So, please read the facts rather than inserting your own emotions into my story, and into the stories of lots of other women who do not take such decisions lightly.