Writes Lisa Selin Davis, in a NYT "Private Lives" piece. Davis had "essentially majored in experimental feminist video" in college, believed she "could make art out of anything," and saw her unplanned pregnancy as "an opportunity."
But then she fails to have the camera running for the dramatic moment when her car service driver, on hearing that he's taking her to her abortion appointment, pulls the car over, on a bridge, in traffic, to say: "Don’t kill the baby."
“Keep driving! I have an appointment!” I shook his headrest. This was not part of the script.
“Please don’t kill the baby,” he said again, turning around to face me. He had beautiful big brown eyes — almost black. “I will take care of you and the baby. I work two jobs.”
We're told this man was "Middle Eastern."
But would she have wanted that scene in her movie? Later, she chose not to turn the camera on in the waiting room, she says, because the women there didn't fit her mental image. She hadn't planned for a baby, and she hadn't planned for "the saturnine cloudiness" of the waiting room and "all those sad-looking women burying their faces in tabloid magazines."
If they'd been reading The New Yorker, would it have had a more feminist vibe — more of a sense of informed, intelligent, autonomous individuals discovering and delineating the meaning of life for themselves?
Describing these women, Davis deadpans, "The video camera stayed sleeping in my lap," as if she could have filmed patients in a clinic waiting room if only they conveyed the message she'd hope to find.
The film prospects are also undercut by the need for general anesthesia. But the writing prospects remain, of course, and that's what we are reading.
The first thing I thought when I awoke from the anesthesia was that I’d never be pregnant again, that I had just squandered my only chance at motherhood.
That's quite a sentence, exposing her to the criticism that she's thinking only of herself. The lost child becomes the lost
opportunity to be a mother. The pregnancy was an opportunity to make a feminist film, and with the opportunity to make the film disappointed, the writer shifts us forward to the new lost opportunity,
motherhood.
Davis ends upbeat. We jump 20 years into the present, where she's "happily coupled with a wonderful man," and 2 daughters. She still supports abortion rights, but she wants women to know that having an abortion is brutal and traumatic.
I suspect that Davis got the idea to write this piece because of
the recent attention to a film that did get made of a woman getting her abortion and presenting abortion in the cheerful, liberating way that had been Davis's original conception.