What They Ignore When They Force a Woman to Give Birth Anyway

Not All Births Are Acts of Love (and the disturbing truth behind forced motherhood and unwanted lives)

Is calling a life into the world just a natural process of the body, or is it a deep, almost cosmic call? Tell me, does birth simply mean the beginning of existence, or is it a declaration that, “You are welcome here, you are wanted here”? If that welcome is absent, if that call arises from hesitation and denial, then where does the underlying meaning of that birth lie?

When someone decides to have an abortion, do you really see the inner layers of it? Or do you only judge the external event? Is she just making a decision, or is she making a silent admission — that the space within her has not yet been created where a life can be contained? Fear, unpreparedness, unfulfilled dreams, invisible pressures — are these just excuses, or are these the reality through which she is trying to understand herself?

And if she is told, “No, your desire is worthless — you must give birth,” then on what basis will that birth be based? Of love, or of obligation? Have you ever thought that bringing a life into the world means not only giving it a chance to breathe, but also placing it in an emotional environment where every day of its existence will be shaped by some feeling?

When a child comes into the world, does it come simply to live? Or does it come to feel — touch, sight, sound, and above all, love? Does it just want to grow up, or does it want to say — “I was wanted”? If that feeling of being wanted is absent from the environment around it, what will be the first lesson it learns? That it is an accident? An unwillingness? A burden?

Can you realize how delicate a child’s consciousness is? It feels before it understands language. It reads the vibrations of feelings before words. If there is an invisible layer of unwillingness around it, doesn’t it penetrate it? That silent distance, that unexpressed weariness, that vague discomfort — don’t these gradually become part of its identity?

Tell me, what is the greatest need for a child? Just food, clothes, shelter? Or is there an invisible hunger deep within him — for recognition, for acceptance, for unconditional love? If that love is absent, if his very existence is felt as a burden on someone’s life, how will that child’s inner world develop?

Have you ever stopped and asked yourself this question — before bringing a life into the world, are you truly ready to accept it? Not just to take responsibility, but to see it with its whole being, to let it be as it is, to love it unconditionally?

Because giving birth is easy. But welcoming — that is a different level of preparation. It demands an open heart, an awareness, a deep realization that you are making room for the arrival of a unique consciousness.

Doesn’t every child deserve a world where his arrival is celebrated? Where his existence is not a question, not a burden, but an unconditional acceptance? If that is true, are we honoring that truth, or are we simply making birth mandatory and emptying its deepest meaning?

In the end, the question is no longer about the outside world. It comes back to you. Do you want to create a life, or are you ready to truly invite a life? Can you bring someone into this world and say, without hesitation — “You were wanted here”?

They Care About a Fetus More Than a Living Woman

Abortion is murder, as a human being. But what is murder? Whom do we call a “person”? Have you ever stopped, removed yourself from all the noise, and silently delved into the depths of this question? Is a life that has not yet learned to feel itself, that has never seen a dawn, felt no fear, held no memory — is it really a “person” in the same sense as you, me, or any conscious human being?

An embryo — a possibility, an unborn form, an undetermined future. But tell me, how deep is the gap between possibility and reality? Is a seed the same as a tree? Is a design the same as a complete architecture? If a being is not yet aware of its own existence, if it has not acquired any capacity to feel itself, what does the word “I” mean to it?

And then look at the other side — a woman. Her body, her blood, her time, her breath — everything is real, awake, sentient. She is not just a medium, not just a vessel in which life is created. She is herself a full life, a complete consciousness, with her own dreams, fears, desires, and most importantly — her own rights over herself.

So tell me, which rights weigh more? That of an unborn possibility, or that of a living, feeling human being? Have you ever felt what it means to take someone away from their own body? To force them into a reality they did not choose? Is this just a moral question, or is it a deep existential intervention?

And what do we do? We deify possibility, and question reality. We stand for a being who cannot yet feel anything, and for that being we condition the will, freedom, and existence of a living human being. Why? Is the allure of possibility so strong that it blinds us to the clear truth of the present?

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This post was previously published on medium.com.