If I fall pregnant, it's my uterus that grows.
It's my fatigue and my morning sickness and my back pain.
It's my mental health that grapples with this monumental shift.
My pain threshold forced to confront the trauma of childbirth.
It's my vagina that gives birth. My vagina that tears. Or my abdomen that gets cut open while I am awake, should I choose or need a C-section.
It's my postpartum journey. My prolapse. Or mastitis. Or postnatal depression. Or hair loss. Or incontinence.
It's also my responsibility — this child who is born. I can give them up for adoption, but it doesn't negate any of what I have gone through.
Or I keep them. Raise them. Love them. But if I don't have the funds, support or means to do that 'well,' what kind of mother am I?
It's all my fault for having sex. Not his. Never his.
It's my body. But according to American lawmakers, it's not my choice whether I go through this life-altering experience, it's theirs.
I don't live in America, but I had a guttural reaction to the news this week that the landmark 1973 legal decision that has long protected the right to abortion in the US, could very well be overturned.
A draft ruling of the decision was leaked to news outlet Politico. It has since been confirmed as authentic.
WATCH: US Senator Elizabeth Warren's reaction to the news...
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