Yeah, I went there.

The other morning I was listening to NPR's California Report on my drive in to work.

My mind was swirling, like it almost always does at such times; thinking about upcoming holidays and visits to relatives, and what to make and what to talk about… or not talk about… whiiiiiiiich is almost always how I get hooked into my internal monologue.

I love my internal monologues. Sometimes, when I get really heated and need to just out-with-it, I make them external. They are excellent, elocutionary and riveting (if I do say so myself). They almost always happen when I am driving. And always when I’m alone.

My latest monologue dealt with an issue I care about greatly. I have a feeling it’s something most of us care about greatly.

I have a relative—a very dear and kind relative—who is sturdy in his beliefs. They are his very own, his very conservative and his very important beliefs, and they do not coincide with my very own, my very progressive and my very important beliefs… which is to say we do not talk about our beliefs to one another, so that we can continue liking each other as much as we do. Simple solution.

And the issue (which will come as no surprise to anyone) is abortion.

In truth, and to paraphrase President-elect Obama, I don’t know anyone who is “for” abortion… which is a very different thing than being pro-choice. I am pro-choice.

My dear relative is not.  He exercises his right to free speech and desire to affect change by protesting with some friends at his area’s Planned Parenthood clinic. I respect his protesting in the sense that I firmly believe we ALL have a responsibility to be true to our beliefs, to speak for what we believe is right and against that which offends us.

And yet…

This particular form of protest bothers me deeply, for many, many reasons—the least of which being that I, in poorer days, have used Planned Parenthood many times for things such as contraceptive counseling and free birth control.  On one such visit, I was approached by protesters as I was very privately trying to find out if I was pregnant (as I’d hoped I was). Being approached by someone with a giant photo of an aborted fetus while being shouted at by others who pleaded with me not to abort my presumed-baby was not the kind of good omen I was seeking upon entry to the clinic.

But that’s just me.

I’m sure plenty of young women are cool with facing such a barrage. I’m sure plenty of young women, in the delicate moment of anxiety and after agonizing over whatever decision she makes regarding her body, and her future and the future of a possible family, love to be chastised. They probably love the shame and the guilt and the fear, the sorrow and the mortification. Sadly, I’m not one of them.

Which got me thinking about the form of protest itself.

I get it. The protesters are angry. They consider terminating a pregnancy akin to murder. I understand the depth of passion around this issue.

But I have to ask… standing outside of clinics, shouting at passersby, holding signs… is it working? What is the success rate of your protest? How many women have changed their minds? How effective is this reactive (and oftentimes hostile) form of protest?

Was it any more effective than me standing outside the Capitol building, holding a sign in a pro-choice rally?

How can our mutual desire, this need to affect change, to make a difference, to reduce (eliminate) the number of abortions—how can our mutual desire be proactive? How can we, as a society, stop unintended pregnancies, stop women from getting to this point in the first place?

I mean this in all sincerity: How can the pro-choice and anti-abortion movements work together on this issue? Because I don’t think I’m stupid for asking.

Clearly I have an opinion. Clearly my relative has an opinion. Clearly there has to be common ground somewhere—I mean, I don’t want a young woman wrestling through most of her life with the emotions surrounding an unintended pregnancy, or a pregnancy she views as a mistake, let alone the health and financial consequences of whatever her decision might be, let alone the social implications of that decision.

How do we get to the point where there is no decision making needed?

That’s when I tuned back in to reality, and the California Report. Scott Schaeffer spoke on the upcoming changes to the foster care system. Len Edwards, a Superior Court Judge, was quoted as saying that teens in the foster care system—who are termed out at age 18—are the first to get pregnant, the first to go on welfare, the first to need other forms of public assistance, the first to go to jail, and the first to have their children enter the foster care system.

And the cycle of poverty continues.

I agree with the compassion for the unborn individual. Certainly, shouldn’t we—as a society—also have compassion for the possible mother as well?

And so the light bulb went on: Can THIS be it? Is THIS how both sides of the issue go from reactive, and shouting at our respective winds, to proactive—filled with the desire and stronger ability to affect change?

I think it could be a start, at least.

Perhaps both sides working toward reforms in the foster care system and working directly with those teens is an effective, proactive way to get the end result we all desire: Fewer unintended pregnancies.