I am shaking with rage - and I feel sick and I'm scared. But, I understand; the shame, fear, and even the ignorance of women in America today. I am one of those women. Until a few years ago I would have said that the horrors of the past were just the scars of a hard won battle - a battle that I didn't fight and knew too little about but that I had reaped the benefits of, almost without a second thought. Yet, I had every reason in the world to give it my every thought.

Of course, when I was little I didn't understand that. There was no mom to teach me about those kinds of things. No way could I know about "women's rights" or the "freedom of choice". But, even when I was old enough to get it, and my mom had made it painfully clear to me, I still didn't get it, or perhaps I chose not to. I don't know. I don't know. I thought it was over, I guess - the battle and the pain. Or, I wanted it to be. I tried not to give it a lot of thought. I was so young still and with so many problems.

My younger daughter told me how to self abort yesterday. Just a "FYI, Mom". A girl at school had told her about it in detail. It was like getting kicked in the stomach.

This can't be happening. This can't be real! No! I want to scream! I feel like I'm suffocating. How could MY little girl be telling me this? Not my little girl. I want to shake her and make sure she knows just how dangerous it is! Make her promise to NEVER, EVER try something like that no matter what! To make sure her friends know. To come to me if she or anyone one of them ever needs help. I know I'm panicking but I’m frightened...the danger is so real.

But, she already knows all that. At least I think she knows? She knows how her grandmother died. She's known it all her life. But have I told her enough about it? How it happened? Why it happened? Should I show her the film now? Should I show her the photograph? She's probably already Googled it by now. It's so hard. There's no book to tell me how to do any of this.

Until a few years ago I would have said that the horrors of the past were just the scars of a hard won battle. I think I actually believed that for a while if only as way to come to terms with my mother’s needless death. Now, as my daughters' freedoms slip away before my eyes and the horrors of my past become their realty I realize I haven't done a damn thing to stop it. Oh, I hide in the safety of a pro choice group now and then and say I'm doing my part but the truth is I’m not. I’m too scared - all the time. Just like half the women in America.

I don’t know if I’ll ever make a difference but I know it’s time I started trying - before it’s too late. Maybe if I show the guts to speak out someone else will find the courage to do the same. So, I’m going to post this without worrying (too much) about who will read it and what they might think. I am Gerri Santoro’s daughter and my daughters will not carry on her legacy. Not a chance.