It has been said that the fact of birth—coming out of the womb into independent life—is an unimportant fact, a non-scientific fact. Why? Because it is an easily observable fact, one which does not require special “scientific tools” to see. According to this line of thinking, the raindrops that we see, and which we feel on our hands and faces, are non-scientific facts as well, much less important than the water particles which can be observed—with special scientific equipment—in the clouds.

Less important—to whom? To the farmer who sees his parched land finally absorbing moisture, moisture which will grow a crop, which will ultimately feed a scientist, keeping him alive, so that he can aver that rain is an unimportant, non-scientific fact?

Birth is a very important fact to the once pregnant woman, now mother. If she lay there, at full-term pregnancy, but never gave birth, she would die. The birth of her baby is also the renewal of her own life. While her fetus lay at the beginning of independence, she lay near the end of it, which is death (which still happens nowadays). The fetus is born into babyhood, while she is born into motherhood. The joy on her face and in her eyes, holding her baby for the first time, is however, an unscientific fact.

One asks, how did so-called scientific facts ever become more important (again, to whom?) than everyday common facts, facts which only farm-fed scientists can observe or, it may be, deduce from easily observable, unimportant, inferior facts?

On one side, the womb; on the other, the world. It is this simple metaphysical fact which is the dividing line between total dependence and independence, and the pregnant woman’s right to make her own decision is good up until that line is crossed.

Now it is true that many scientific facts are exceedingly important for the material progress of civilization. But is preventing a seventh month or eight month pregnant woman from having an abortion, because scientists can “see” viability, a key to the progress of civilization> Should it be the moral purpose of that woman to serve progress? Is her life not an end in itself? Sure, it might have been better for her if she had made her choice earlier. It might have been better for her if she had used protection in the first place, better for her is she knew what she really wanted back then. Of course, she was supposed to know. Women don’t develop and grow in their knowledge of themselves. They always just know—isn’t that right? Besides, what’s “better for her” is just an unimportant, non-scientific fact, or possibility.

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s