Abortion Pro Argument Write Up
In 1973, in the case of Roe vs. Wade, the Supreme Court recognized that a woman’s right to choose abortion is a “fundamental right.” Since then, over 59,290,477 helpless lives have been taken (according to the CDC in 2011). According to the Declaration of Independence, “All men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Allowing abortion directly contradicts the Declaration of Independence. Amongst this, the fact that fetuses feel pain, hippocratic oath doctors take is contradicted, and abortion has proved to increase the risk of death amongst women are reasons why abortion should not be legal.
A common argument is that a fetus does not feel pain, when in fact, it does. By 20 weeks, a baby is quite developed. By 20 weeks, the unborn child has hair, fingernails, working vocal cords, sucks her thumb, and grasps with her hands and kicks. Also, Electrical brain wave patterns can be recorded at 43 days. This is usually ample evidence that “thinking” is taking place in the brain.
Common types of abortion include Partial-birth abortion, Saline abortion, and Dilation and Evacuation. Partial Abortion is when the unborn baby is delivered feet first, except for the head, which is punctured at the base of the skull with a sharp object. The brain is then suctioned out, killing the child. (This method was outlawed in the United States in 2007.) Saline abortion is when salt water is injected into the womb through the mother’s abdomen. The unborn baby swallows this fluid, is poisoned and dies in a process that sometimes takes 24 hours. The toxic saline solution causes severe burns over the unborn child’s entire body. The most common type of abortion, Dilation and Evacuation, is when Sharp-edged instruments are used to grasp, twist and tear the baby’s body into pieces, which are then removed from the womb.
Dilation and Evacuation abortion is most commonly used when an illegal “Back Alley” abortion is performed. When this procedure is undergone illegally, sometimes instruments being used are not properly sanitized, making the woman at higher risk of a complication, injury, or even death. Making abortion illegal has the ability to eliminate this issue.
Some others argue however, that an abortion is a medical procedure done by a trained professional. However, that directly contradicts the Hippocratic oath doctors take. One section of the original oath reads: "I will not give a woman a pessary [a device inserted into the vagina] to cause an abortion."
Doctors have also proven that abortion increases the risk of breast cancer and miscarriages for future pregnancies. 15% of 1st Trimester Miscarriages were attributed to a prior abortion (stated in the June 2003 Published in International Journal of Epidemiology). When an abortion is given incorrectly, it may lead to tearing in the uterus, and complications in the ovaries. "I regret it. I regret it so much." Cathy Wexler is now infertile because of the abortion she had when she was 19.
Although Cathy is infertile, other women, like Jill Mancer were less fortunate. Jill was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010. In early pregnancy, levels of estrogen increase, leading to breast growth in preparation for a woman to milk her child. When the process is interrupted by abortion, immature cells are left in the woman's breasts, resulting in a greater potential risk of breast cancer.
As these many consequences can come from abortion, it is important that we are proactive in protecting our mothers. There are many alternatives to abortion, such as abstinence, contraceptives, and adoption. No life should be spared for the convenience of someone else’s.
I didn’t think that it would be this hot in America. When I was young, I didn’t even know America really existed. We were all told that America was this place where dreams came true. I thought that there was no dirt here, that there were just flowers and grass; that the people were friendly. I thought they made America up. Over the years, I have seen that there is a lot of dirt, and poor people, and many are rude and too ignorant to help.
America is a different kind of hot compared to Cuba. I wore my grey office suit that day, hoping that I would make a good impression. Little did I know, there was no one to impress. The air was moist from all the strangers’ sweat, and this make-shift airport was so packed that men were carrying their luggage on top of their heads. People standing shoulder to shoulder tried to push past me like it was actually possible to move comfortably anywhere.
I lost count of how many shoulders I tapped. I was in a sea of people, and not one of them turned around. Don’t they speak Spanish? Shouldn’t someone in this tiny box of a room speak Spanish? I guess it didn’t matter though. They were all in too much of a hurry to help anyone but themselves. As I looked around at the many faces, I really did hope that I recognized someone.
There was this one woman that looked like Rosa, the secretary at my work. Rosa wears her hair tight back in a bun and greases it with Caballero Gel. I decided to approach her.
Moving is not the easiest task at this airport. It took a deep breath to finally make a brave move and push past someone in such a confined space. I had to keep in mind that these people were probably going to push me too, sometime or another. I tried my best not to shove anyone too hard, mumbling, “Perdón, con permiso,” after every other person. As I got closer though, I realized that this woman was not Rosa. Not to be offensive, but this woman was too pretty to be Rosa. And her hair was much shinier than that of Caballero Gel. So I kept pushing past anyway.
People were everywhere. It felt like every inch of the room was occupied. I was probably in an old warehouse. Old, moth eaten curtains and lousy ropes in some areas were set up to indicate some sort of division from the different stations. Careful not to accidently hit or bump somebody, I finally made it to a sign that read, “Stamping” with a large red arrow pointing to a separate hall.
I ended up in some sort of a line. Everyone around me was inching forward, trying to gain the desk clerk’s attention. They were stamping papers. Hands were in the air amongst the yelling of “¡Date prisa! Ayúdanos también!”. I had never filled out so many forms to be somewhere I had no desire to be. Everyone else seemed to want it though, pushing and shoving their way to the front. I was more than glad to let them go ahead.
Just about every other minute I heard a loud, “Usted, ahora!” from the desk clerk. She was a white lady; you could tell by her strong white accent when she yelled. That was probably the only thing she knew in Spanish. She was a pretty lady, with brown hair and green eyes. I don’t know how she could have ever ended up as a desk clerk at a refugee airport. She looked like she should be a nurse or a doctor. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but in this sweatbox with people even I knew she did not want to be around.
I watched her stamp papers as I inched closer to her desk. I filled out thirteen different forms, each with a little box in the corner for somebody to stamp in. I saw her hand fly up and down, red ink stained on the white cuff of her uniform. Avoiding to make eye contact with a scruffed-face man, she tried to make small talk, in a language the poor immigrant obviously did not understand. He was being polite though, nodding and smiling after every other sentence.
My turn came. She snatched the papers out of my hand, and started flipping through them, stamping the different forms I had filled out. She tried asking me questions, as if I could respond. So I mimicked that scruffed-face man: smiled and nodded. She looked up to see my face. Jesus, what a pretty face she had. Strands of her brown hair were sticking up out of her messy bun, but she looked well put together. Her head was cocked to the right, and her dangling earrings followed,making a shimmering noise amongst the chaos. She blinked a few times and gave one of those sympathetic smiles, like the ones you give to homeless people. Her ink stained fingers started tapping over my papers as she went back to skim-reading my application.
It felt so silent in that moment that I had to check to see if I lost my hearing. Sweat beaded on my forehead as my fingers felt my right ear. My shoes were glued to the floor and my eyes were secure on her hands as I counted the papers she stamped so far. Elleven. The noise started coming back. Not the airport noise, the noise in Cuba. It flooded my ears so heavily. The sound of clipping fresh flowers from my garden. The light clink when you set the vase on the kitchen table. Twelve. Water trickling into the glass vase, replenishing the beautiful flowers. Thirteen.
I wanted to cover my ears when she held out the completed papers. A rush of yelling and screaming filled my head as I was thrusted suddenly back into reality. Her eyebrows raised as she waved the forms in my face. As I grasped the papers with both hands, she cracked a smile and whispered, “Bienvenido a América”.