By Los Angeles Loss & Abortion Doula
(This article is written for women who may be pregnant or waiting on results. Considering the option of abortion.)
There are few moments in life that cannot be undone.
A spoken apology may repair a relationship. A career can change. A home can be sold. Money can be earned again after it has been lost. Even our beliefs evolve as we move through life.
But there are two moments that permanently alter the course of human existence.
Birth.
Death.
Everything else lives somewhere between those two bookends.
Pregnancy exists in a remarkable space between them. It is one of the only seasons of life where a single decision branches into entirely different futures, each carrying its own permanence. Whether someone chooses to parent, make an adoption plan, or have an abortion, there is no path that completely returns life to what it was before.
This is not meant to frighten anyone.
It is meant to honor the weight of what pregnancy truly represents.
The Permanence We Often Forget
Pregnancy asks a question unlike almost any other.
It asks whether another human being will enter history.
If the pregnancy continues, a new person will one day take their first breath.
If it ends, that future changes forever.
Neither reality is small.
Neither deserves to be treated casually.
Our culture often encourages quick answers to profoundly complicated questions. Yet pregnancy rarely fits inside slogans or headlines. It asks us to wrestle with permanence while we are often feeling fear, uncertainty, hope, grief—or all of them at the same time.
Long before a child takes their first steps…
Speaks their first words…
Falls in love…
Builds a career…
Raises a family…
Or leaves their own mark upon the world…
Their story begins here.
Pregnancy is not merely the beginning of nine months.
It is the beginning of possibility.
The First Breath
Across cultures, a newborn’s first cry has long symbolized the beginning of independent life.
For nine months, oxygen, nutrients, warmth, and protection come from another body.
Then, in a single breathtaking moment…
The lungs expand.
The baby inhales.
The cry fills the room.
The world now has another person.
Everything that follows begins with that first breath.
The first laugh.
The first friendship.
The first day of school.
The first disappointment.
The first act of kindness.
The first apology.
The first discovery.
The first love.
The first goodbye.
Every success.
Every failure.
Every ordinary Tuesday.
Every extraordinary moment.
To choose to continue a pregnancy is, in many ways, to willingly invite another human being into all that life contains.
Not simply infancy.
But an entire lifetime.
A lifetime that no one—not even loving parents—can fully predict.
That child may someday become a teacher.
A nurse.
An artist.
A scientist.
A mentor.
A parent.
A faithful friend.
Or someone whose quiet act of compassion changes another person’s life forever.
Every human life carries that possibility.
Beauty and Brokenness Walk Together
Many people imagine that if circumstances are perfect, life will somehow become free from hardship.
But no amount of money removes grief.
No perfect marriage guarantees peace.
No healthy body escapes aging forever.
No loving family can prevent every disappointment.
Every child—whether born into wealth or poverty, stability or uncertainty—will experience both beauty and brokenness.
They will know delight.
They will know disappointment.
They will know love.
They will know loss.
They will celebrate.
They will mourn.
They will experience hope.
They will wrestle with uncertainty.
This is simply part of being human.
In Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke reminds us that life is not something to be escaped because it contains difficulty. Rather, our task is to live deeply enough that uncertainty, joy, sorrow, and growth all become part of who we are. He encourages us not to flee life’s difficult questions, but to patiently live them until, over time, life itself reveals deeper understanding.
Pregnancy asks us to confront that same truth.
To bring someone into the world is to accept that they will experience both breathtaking beauty and genuine hardship.
Not because life has failed them.
But because this has always been part of being human.
The question has never been whether life contains difficulty.
It does.
The question is whether life also contains enough beauty…
Enough meaning…
Enough love…
Enough wonder…
To make the journey worthwhile.
The Story of Gold Manna
One of the most thought-provoking illustrations of creation and responsibility comes from philosopher Seana Shiffrin, who tells the story of a wealthy man named Gold Manna.
Gold Manna lived on an island blessed with more wealth than he could ever spend. Across the sea was another island where ordinary families lived comfortable but modest lives. Looking across the water, he decided he wanted to improve their lives. His motives were generous. He simply wanted to give them a gift.
There was only one problem.
The governments of the two islands prohibited travel and communication.
Gold Manna could not visit them.
He could not ask permission.
He could not explain his intentions.
Determined to help anyway, he commissioned enormous cubes of solid gold, each worth five million dollars. He loaded them into an airplane and carefully flew over the neighboring island, releasing the cubes one by one so that each family might receive unimaginable wealth. The story is used by Shiffrin as a thought experiment about consent, benefit, and harm.
For a while, everything unfolded exactly as he had imagined.
Families discovered fortunes.
Dreams suddenly became possible.
Lives were transformed.
Then one cube missed its intended landing.
It struck a man below, breaking his arm before crashing into the ground beside him.
When the dust settled, the injured man found himself lying next to a block of gold worth more money than he could have earned in several lifetimes.
His future had been permanently changed.
So had his body.
The story leaves us with a difficult question.
Was Gold Manna justified?
Most people would agree that his intentions were compassionate.
Most people would also agree that the broken arm mattered.
The blessing and the injury arrived together.
Neither could be separated from the other.
Some philosophers use this story to argue that introducing another person to both benefit and harm without first receiving their consent raises important ethical questions. Whether one ultimately agrees or disagrees, the story invites us to think carefully about the responsibilities that accompany actions affecting another person’s life.
Pregnancy raises a similar question, though in a much more personal and profound way.
When we create another human being, we do not hand them only joy.
Nor do we hand them only sorrow.
We hand them life itself.
Morning sunrises.
The smell of rain.
Family traditions.
Books.
Music.
Friendship.
Curiosity.
Purpose.
Work.
Responsibility.
Love.
Grief.
Wonder.
Questions.
Forgiveness.
Failure.
Hope.
Everything that makes life fully human.
To create another person is to introduce them to the entire human experience.
Not selectively.
Completely.
That realization should not frighten us.
It should humble us.
Because creating another human being is one of the greatest responsibilities a person can ever accept.
Microchimerism: A Scientific Reminder
If philosophy invites us to consider the weight of creation, biology reminds us that creation leaves traces.
One of the most fascinating discoveries in modern pregnancy research is a phenomenon known as microchimerism.
During pregnancy, cells travel across the placenta in both directions. Fetal cells pass into the mother’s bloodstream, while maternal cells also enter the developing baby. Researchers have discovered that some fetal cells migrate throughout the mother’s body—to the heart, lungs, liver, skin, thyroid, and even the brain.
Even more remarkably, some of those cells remain.
Years later.
Sometimes decades later.
Scientists continue studying these cells and their possible roles in tissue repair, immune function, and other biological processes. Much remains unknown, but one fact is well established: pregnancy can leave lasting biological traces long after it has ended.
Whether the pregnancy ends in birth…
adoption…
miscarriage…
stillbirth…
or abortion…
the body may continue carrying evidence that another life once shared it.
Science cannot tell us what those cells mean emotionally.
It cannot determine what they mean spiritually.
Those are questions biology alone cannot answer.
But biology quietly reminds us of something profound.
Pregnancy is not merely an event.
It is a relationship.
One that, in many cases, leaves evidence long after the pregnancy itself has ended.
Perhaps that should not surprise us.
Nearly every meaningful relationship leaves something behind.
A beloved teacher leaves knowledge.
A faithful friend leaves memories.
Parents leave values.
Children reshape the lives of everyone who loves them.
Pregnancy appears to leave fingerprints on the body itself.
Whether those fingerprints become memories…
gratitude…
grief…
wisdom…
or simply a reminder that another life once shared your own…
they point toward a larger truth.
Creation leaves traces.
Some experiences are not meant to be temporary.
Pregnancy is one of them.
Love Is More Than Intention
For those who became pregnant through fully consensual sexual relationships, pregnancy also invites an honest question.
Not one rooted in shame.
But in responsibility.
If we willingly participated in the act that creates life—even if pregnancy was not planned—what kind of life can we realistically offer if this pregnancy continues?
Can I provide love?
Can I provide patience?
Can I provide safety?
Can I provide food?
Can I teach this child?
Can I protect them?
No parent answers “yes” perfectly.
Every parent fails sometimes.
Every parent learns.
But asking these questions before birth may be one of the greatest acts of love a person can offer.
Love is more than good intentions.
Love prepares.
Love sacrifices.
Love teaches.
Love protects.
Love continues showing up long after excitement has faded.
Children do not need perfect parents.
They need parents who understand that creating life also means accepting the lifelong responsibility of nurturing it.
And perhaps that is the deepest lesson pregnancy teaches us.
Not simply that we have the ability to create another human being…
But that creation itself calls us to become more thoughtful, more patient, more selfless, and more willing to place another person’s well-being alongside our own.
An Important Exception
There are women for whom this conversation is entirely different.
Women whose pregnancies resulted from sexual assault.
Coercion.
Abuse.
Trafficking.
Or violence.
If this is your story, I want to pause here.
This article is not speaking to your circumstance.
No one chooses to have violence committed against them.
No one chooses to have their consent stolen.
No one chooses the trauma that follows.
The responsibility belongs entirely to the person who violated you.
Whether justice was served…
whether your voice was believed…
whether your case was prosecuted…
or whether the world failed you…
your dignity remains unchanged.
I honor your survival.
I respect your strength.
And I sincerely hope that, wherever your journey has taken you, you continue finding healing, support, and peace.
This reflection is written only for pregnancies that began through fully consensual sexual relationships.
Looking Honestly at Your Reality
Pregnancy has a remarkable way of slowing time.
For many people, life suddenly becomes divided into two parts:
Life before the positive pregnancy test.
And life after it.
Questions that once seemed distant suddenly become immediate.
Can I do this?
Am I ready?
How will this change my life?
What kind of future can I honestly provide?
Those questions deserve thoughtful answers.
Not because someone else demands them.
But because another human story may be depending upon them.
Imagine your life exactly as it exists today.
Not the life you hope will exist someday.
Not the version after a promotion.
Not after someone changes.
Not after a relationship improves.
Today.
What is the quality of your patience?
Your emotional health?
Your support system?
Your finances?
Your relationships?
Your ability to remain calm under stress?
Your willingness to sacrifice sleep…
comfort…
time…
and convenience?
Could you consistently provide love…
teaching…
protection…
and provision…
not perfectly…
but faithfully?
No parent enters motherhood or fatherhood fully prepared.
Every generation learns as they go.
Every parent makes mistakes.
Every child eventually realizes their parents were still learning too.
Perfection has never been the standard.
Faithfulness has.
The willingness to continue showing up.
To continue growing.
To continue apologizing.
To continue loving.
The World Beyond Your Front Door
Even if your own home becomes a place of peace…
the world outside will always remain wonderfully unpredictable.
Your child will eventually encounter people who love them deeply.
They may also encounter people who misunderstand them.
They will experience friendship.
Disappointment.
Success.
Failure.
Wonder.
Questions.
Opportunity.
Temptation.
Joy.
Heartbreak.
One day they may become someone’s spouse.
One day they may become someone’s parent.
One day they may become the person another frightened child looks to for safety.
The world has always been a tapestry woven together from beauty and brokenness.
Neither exists without the other.
As parents, we cannot remove every difficult thread from that tapestry.
We cannot guarantee that every teacher will be kind.
That every friendship will last.
That every illness can be prevented.
That every dream will come true.
What we can do is become the safest place our children have ever known.
Home becomes their first understanding of love.
Their first understanding of forgiveness.
Their first understanding of truth.
Their first understanding of responsibility.
Long before they learn who the world is…
they first learn who the world is through us.
Every Human Story Changes the World
Sometimes we imagine that changing the world requires becoming famous.
History tells a different story.
Most of the people who have shaped your life will never appear in a history book.
The elementary school teacher who believed in you.
The grandmother whose wisdom still guides your decisions.
The neighbor who noticed you were struggling.
The nurse who comforted your family.
The coach who taught you discipline.
The friend who stayed when everyone else left.
None of them may ever become household names.
Yet they changed your world.
Every human being leaves fingerprints on history.
Some loudly.
Most quietly.
When we create another human life, we cannot know what role they will one day play.
Perhaps they will raise remarkable children.
Perhaps they will discover something that helps millions.
Perhaps they will simply become the steady, dependable person who quietly improves every room they enter.
The value of a life has never been measured by fame.
It has always been measured by influence.
And influence often begins in ordinary homes with ordinary parents who chose to love faithfully.
Before the Decision
Before we ask,
“Will I parent?”
Before we ask,
“Should I consider adoption?”
Before we ask,
“Should I have an abortion?”
Perhaps there is another question worth asking first.
Do I understand the gravity of what pregnancy already represents?
Because before pregnancy becomes a decision…
it is already a relationship.
Before it becomes a birth…
it has already changed a body.
Before it becomes an adoption…
it has already changed a future.
Before it becomes an abortion…
it has already become part of someone’s story.
Understanding that reality does not tell us what decision to make.
But it does remind us that every decision deserves to be made thoughtfully.
Slowly.
Honestly.
With humility.
Because creating another human being—or deciding how to respond to a pregnancy—is among the most significant responsibilities a person will ever encounter.
Every Path Carries Weight
By the time most people begin talking about pregnancy, the conversation has usually become centered around options.
Parenting.
Adoption.
Abortion.
These are profoundly different paths.
Each carries its own responsibilities.
Each carries its own sacrifices.
Each carries its own joys.
Each carries its own griefs.
Too often, our culture reduces these decisions to slogans, political debates, or social media sound bites.
Pregnancy deserves more than that.
It deserves reflection.
Because pregnancy itself is already a profound human experience.
The question is not whether one path is completely free from difficulty.
None are.
Parenting asks someone to devote years of love, sacrifice, teaching, protection, provision, patience, and perseverance to another human being.
Adoption asks someone to carry a child into the world while entrusting another family with the responsibility of raising them—a decision that often carries both profound love and profound grief.
Abortion ends the pregnancy but does not necessarily erase the experience of having been pregnant. Every person’s emotional experience afterward is different. Some feel relief, some feel grief, some feel both, and many experience a range of emotions that change over time.
Each path is different.
Each deserves honesty.
Each deserves compassion.
Each deserves thoughtful reflection.
Because every path changes the future.
The Courage of Choosing
Perhaps permanence is what makes pregnancy worthy of such reverence.
It reminds us that some moments in life deserve to be approached slowly.
Thoughtfully.
Humbly.
Not because fear should guide us.
But because wisdom should.
Whether someone chooses to parent…
to make an adoption plan…
or to end a pregnancy…
the decision deserves more than a hurried reaction.
It deserves an honest conversation with oneself.
Not,
“What do other people expect of me?”
But,
“What can I faithfully live with tomorrow?”
“What responsibilities am I prepared to accept?”
“What kind of future begins with the decision I make today?”
Those questions do not always produce easy answers.
Sometimes they produce difficult ones.
But difficult answers honestly reached are often wiser than easy answers reached hastily.
Living the Question
Rainer Maria Rilke wrote in Letters to a Young Poet that some of life’s greatest questions cannot be answered all at once. Instead, he encouraged his readers to live the questions patiently, trusting that understanding often comes through experience rather than immediate certainty.
Pregnancy may be one of those questions.
Not because every person arrives at the same conclusion.
But because pregnancy asks us to contemplate one of the greatest responsibilities entrusted to humanity.
The responsibility of creation.
The responsibility of influence.
The responsibility of shaping another human story.
Before there is a birth certificate…
before there is a nursery…
before there are sleepless nights…
before there is an adoption plan…
before there is an abortion…
there is a pregnancy.
And before there is a pregnancy…
there is the extraordinary possibility of creation itself.
The Permanence of Pregnancy
There are many things we create throughout our lives.
We create careers.
Businesses.
Works of art.
Friendships.
Homes.
Communities.
Legacies.
Yet among all the things human beings are capable of creating, nothing compares to creating another human life.
Every person who has ever changed your life…
Every person you have ever loved…
Every person who has ever taught you…
Encouraged you…
Protected you…
Forgiven you…
First had to be created.
Every human story begins the same way.
Within another human being.
That reality alone should inspire awe.
Science reminds us that pregnancy may leave biological traces through microchimerism.
Memory reminds us that pregnancy leaves emotional traces.
Life reminds us that pregnancy leaves historical traces.
For whether a pregnancy ends in parenting…
adoption…
miscarriage…
stillbirth…
or abortion…
its existence becomes part of someone’s story.
Perhaps that is why birth and death remain life’s two most permanent moments.
Birth opens a story.
Death closes one.
Pregnancy quietly stands between them.
Holding, for a time, the extraordinary possibility of another human life.
The decision that follows belongs to the woman carrying that pregnancy, often alongside those she trusts, her values, and the realities of her own life.
Whatever path is chosen, may it never be approached casually.
May it be approached with honesty.
With humility.
With compassion.
With wisdom.
And with reverence for the extraordinary gravity of beginning—or responding to—the possibility of another human story.
Because some moments do more than change our lives.
They change history.
And pregnancy is one of them.
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