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John,
At age 19 I walked into my Catholic college’s health clinic on Valentines Day. My period was late. The nurse walked into the exam room with my pregnancy test, congratulated me, and my stomach dropped to the floor.
In shock, I walked out of the office and found my boyfriend. He could tell immediately that I had gotten news neither of us were ready to hear.
I knew he wasn’t ready to be a father. I knew I was not ready to be a mother… I knew, deep down inside, that we did not stand a chance of raising a family together.
I had a medical abortion at 6 weeks pregnant. I was confused when I was not depressed or sad afterwards, but relieved. My limited education of abortion had only given me the sense that all women who make this decision would be swallowed by regret for the rest of their lives.
Up until this point I had identified as “Pro-life.” I grew up going to Catholic school and went to a Baptist church on weekends. But more than God or religion, what made me pro-life was my mother.
My mother was a teen mom, and I had always told myself that If I ever found myself pregnant unexpectedly, I would do what my mother did. But my mother struggled. Young and with few resources, she had to work harder than anyone I have ever known to support my brother and me.
When I found out I was pregnant, the realities of my mother’s journey hit me square in the face. I was not ready to embark on that journey. I was in no place to provide for a child.
My abortion experience changed me in a way I never saw coming, so much so that after I was recovered I interned at a Women’s health clinic in Atlanta that offered abortion services. In my role I would sit with women on the day of their abortion procedure. I helped them fill out their medical paperwork, I talked to them about the procedure, I offered them a compassionate ear, and I listened to their stories. I did this for two years. I have quite literally heard hundreds of women’s stories on the day of their abortion procedure.
That is why I am running for office; I know that when a woman walks into an abortion clinic, it is their saving grace. No one is there flippantly or gleefully. Women are there because they need to be. |
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Watch my first campaign video here. |
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A woman having an abortion is in a crisis. Whether the crisis is borne out of money, career, existing children, or tragically a violent conception or medical emergency, abortion is necessary healthcare.
I have never been a fan of the term “choice.” People choose abortion like people choose car accidents. People can drive as safely as they can, and still, sometimes accidents happen. You can take any number of precautions in your life, but things will still happen that are out of your control.
I am now a proud 35 year old single mother of a beautiful six year old daughter. I have just graduated from law school and work for a wonderful environmental non-profit. I have a children’s book coming out next year. And for the first time in my life, I do not have to work two jobs to make it and life is absolutely wonderful. So why mess it up by running for office?
Because if Louisiana’s current abortion laws had existed when I was 19, I would not have had the chance to build my life to a place where I was truly ready to provide for a child. The Louisiana State Legislature has passed a law stating that every woman who falls pregnant is forced to give birth. Louisiana has the harshest abortion law in the country.
Too young or too old? Too bad. Too sick? Too bad. No partner? Too bad. Bad partner? Too bad. Financially struggling? Too bad. Rape? Too bad. Incest? Too bad.
If anyone, doctor or otherwise, helps a woman have an abortion, they are liable to face up to 15 years in jail and 200k in civil penalties. This is a disgrace to the women and families of Louisiana and we must dismantle Louisiana’s cruel abortion landscape before it is too late. |
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Thank you for support at this critical stage of our campaign. Together we will make abortion legal again in Louisiana.
Sincerely,
Britt Gondolfi |
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