Feministe has a guest post by Melissa Weininger which is entitled, "How My Miscarriage Made Me More Pro-Choice" in which Weininger attempts to explain how her initial sadness over her miscarriage is actually an argument for why she's pro-choice.
After noting she largely forgot her miscarriage after becoming pregnant again, Weininger discusses her initial feelings.
That's not to say that I felt nothing about miscarrying, or that I denied the feelings I did have. I was sad; I was anxious; I was disappointed. I cried and felt sorry for myself. I worried that I might not be able to get pregnant again. But I realized, as I experienced the hormonally enhanced emotional aftermath of my miscarriage, that even the source of my sadness was a powerful argument for choice.
So her sadness over the loss of her unborn child is an argument for the legal killing of more unborn children? Not quite.
I was unhappy because my expectations had been radically and unexpectedly altered by circumstances outside of my control. The thing that upset me most was that I had chosen one future, and my body had chosen another. This understanding in and of itself was enough to cement my previously untested feelings about reproductive choice. Because whether you choose to have a baby or you do not, the most crucial thing is that you are able to choose.So she supposedly wasn't sad her unborn child died. She was sad because she didn't get what she wanted.
I think this neatly sums up the pro-choice ideology held by Weininger: I want what I want and I get mad/sad when I don't get what I want so I should get what I want.
In addition to this intellectual understanding of my emotional reactions to miscarrying, I also experienced a kind of physical revelation. The actual fact of the fetal tissue that had been removed from my body (my own tissue, after all) didn't bother me in the least.So the fetal tissue was your tissue? Huh? These must be the weird, completely-biologically-incorrect things abortion advocates tell themselves to get over grieving their wanted children who are miscarried and the cognitive dissonance it causes. I mean, how could they grieve a blob of cells?
I had to undergo a somewhat uncomfortable medical procedure, sure, but I knew definitively, even physically, that I had not lost a baby. There was no baby to lose; there was only my idea of a baby, and my sense of loss was a feeling I only had for myself.If there was no baby to lose why did you require a medical procedure to remove something? What was that something? A toaster? Or did the doctor physically remove an idea of a baby?