Reflections on Adoption and Abortion

While discussing adoption and abortion across the nation, I’ve often encountered reactions—from professors, student activists, and some politicians—that suggest I should have chosen abortion. It’s not always said outright, but the sentiment is unmistakable.

My most vivid experience occurred at Harvard University.

Culture tells us that a reckless choice implies a lack of love or desire, but that’s not the reality.

When invited to speak at a Harvard Law event, I spent the night before grappling with self-doubt in my hotel room. I’m not worth it… I don’t belong here, I kept telling myself. How could I assert my perspective in such a prestigious environment?

Finding My Voice

The next morning in the shower, I was still fighting my anxiety. I glanced up at the nozzle and burst out laughing—the brand “SPEAKMAN” caught my eye. Talk to me, dude. I had never noticed that name before, but it somehow bolstered my confidence. I was meant to do this.

Upon arrival, I found the room packed. A Harvard professor, who was to present a counter-argument, arrived late and unprepared. I shared my journey, confronting the idea of “unwanted” children while presenting statistics: in certain American cities, more Black babies are aborted than born alive. Abortion rates for Black individuals can be six times higher than those for whites, a disparity can’t simply be chalked up to poverty or lacking healthcare.

My views, particularly regarding history and the injustices surrounding abortion, were met with hostility. The hour-long Q&A session devolved into insults and distractions, straying from the actual discussion. A professor dismissed my adoption story, which highlighted a woman’s strength and choice, labeling it a “cute story.”

Then, more students approached me with animosity. Someone hurled a vile insult. Another person asked how it felt to be treated like an object. One activist bluntly declared that I should have been aborted.

More Than Just Debate

At a different Christian university, after a similar discussion, I was thanked by the dean for my politeness. Yet, days later, his department emailed the campus, saying my words had left students feeling “unheard, undervalued, and unsafe.” It appears that speaking the truth can sometimes feel unsafe. The notion of being a victim has a strong hold on many.

My experiences at various universities suggest a trend: many institutions aren’t interested in debate; they seem more inclined towards disdain. Higher education often feels like it’s losing its essence. Not every institution or every professor embodies this, but it’s a concerning trend in academia. Courage is the answer. Like fear, it spreads; but unlike fear, it enlightens and empowers.

A Personal Fight

I can’t allow myself to be misled by false narratives. My life reflects countless others that society often overlooks—those who need someone to advocate for them. I stand for the most marginalized because I have been there myself.

This culture often equates reckless actions with unworthiness. But that’s simply false. My life, beginning in violence, has turned into one of triumph. I owe a debt of gratitude to my birth mother for including me in her life. Her difficult choice has created lasting impacts—ripples that extend into my marriage, my children, and a family I only discovered last fall.

None of us control the circumstances surrounding pregnancy or many other life events. Yet, God transforms setbacks into opportunities for growth. How we respond to challenges reflects our resilience and humanity. In a world desperately seeking meaning, this simple truth often gets lost. “It’s what we’re all meant to be.”

This narrative draws from Ryan Bomberger’s new memoir, which explores these themes further.