Letters to the Editor: Chapter 1

By: Diana Ortega


Max shut his office door to block out the noise of the newsroom; Fridays were especially busy. He eased into his large leather desk chair and sifted through the letters he had just picked up from the front desk. Picking one at random, he opened it and began to read.

Dear Editor ~

I have never written to a newspaper before, but I have a question and was wondering if maybe any of your readers might have an answer. My name is Annie and I am 16 years old. My question is this – does having an abortion really matter? I used to be so sure it didn’t matter – but now I don’t know. I really don’t want abortion to matter because, you see, I had one about a year ago.

Imagine my admitting that on paper when my parents don’t even know. Somehow, I’m not sure I care if they find out now. I just feel so uneasy and want to be sure that what I did is no big deal. Maybe somebody out there could give me some help and I could rest easy again.

I don’t suppose my story is much different than anyone else who makes the medical choice to have an abortion. I was 15 and having a baby certainly wasn’t going to fit in my life. So, I decided to change direction with an abortion before my pregnancy turned into a baby.

My counselor at school and the school nurse both advised me to have an abortion and assured me that it was no big deal. They encouraged me not to turn it into some heavy decision when it was really the only logical choice. I appreciated their guidance and encouragement because I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to tell my parents because I wasn’t sure what they’d say.

My counselor and the school nurse both assured me that it was usually wiser to leave parents out of decisions like these. Having an abortion wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I didn’t like the clinic, but I made it through and I healed up fairly quickly. I was relieved to be done with it all so I could get back to my life. I couldn’t believe I had managed to get out of the situation fairly easily. I did decide not to risk it again, so I don’t date much and never seriously. I put more energy into my studies, which is good for me.

Anyway, back to my question. About three months ago, our neighbors had a baby girl. A few weeks ago, they asked me if I would be willing to watch her for them twice a week. I am always glad for a bit of money and what could be easier than watching a little baby that sleeps most of the time?

I just found out, this little girl was born early – three weeks early and she is a baby! That may seem obvious to you – but it threw me. The school nurse told me that a baby isn’t really a baby until it is born. I figured that she is a nurse so she must be right. But if babies are fully babies three weeks before they are due to be born, maybe she is wrong. I mean, if babies can be born three weeks early and be fine, are they considered people for those last three weeks in the womb?

I am relieved that I had my abortion early. I am sure that my pregnancy hadn’t turned into a baby yet. Still, I’m feeling kind of uneasy.

I asked the school nurse about early births and she said I had nothing to worry about, to forget it and get back to class. I have tried forgetting, but I have this nagging feeling that if the school nurse doesn’t know that babies are people three weeks before they are due to be born – that she might not know if what I did really matters, either. So, my question is this, does it really matter that I had an abortion? I hope not.

Annie

Max leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. He took a deep breath and slowly let it whistle out through his teeth. “Kids,” he muttered to himself, “they sure are mixed up now-a-days.” He was glad he didn’t have any. He had to give her credit; her simple logic made sense in an odd way. He shook his head, “Of course, I’m not going to print her letter – she’s just another messed up teen and they’re a dime a dozen.” There was a tap at the door. “Come in,” he bellowed as he swept the letter into a desk drawer. “On with another busy day,” he thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Max entered the newsroom clamor, juggling a cup of coffee, his briefcase and the stack of incoming mail he had picked up from the front desk. Slipping into the quiet of his office, he sighed. He tossed the mail on his desk and settled into his chair. As he sifted through the mail, he absentmindedly wondered what he’d do with his day off this Sunday. Picking up an envelope, he glanced at the handwriting. Maybe it caught his attention because he didn’t get that much mail from juveniles, just that one girl last week. He slit the envelope open and drew out the letter.

Continued in Chapter 2 . . .