I was born in 1981, eight years after Roe v. Wade convinced American women they had a newfound constitutional right to abortion. When my mother became pregnant outside of marriage, she was pressured to exercise that alleged right. I was scheduled to be aborted at Mt. Sinai Hospital in Hartford, Connecticut.
I am alive because an African American janitor saw my mother crying in the hospital hallway and approached her, asking if she wanted to keep her baby. My mom said yes. The janitor’s peaceful eyes and the words she spoke — “God will give you the strength to have this baby” — led my mother to choose life.