Today’s post comes from guest blogger Amanda, who is a pro-choice volunteer from the Phoenix area. Amanda recently discovered that she is pregnant. This is her story about seeking out prenatal services.

Would you feel comfortable if you went to a clinic and had the counselor that you spoke with laugh that “she could say anything to her clients” and not have anyone to answer to? What if you were young, scared, and pregnant? This is what I experienced at a crisis pregnancy center (CPC) in Mesa, AZ. I knew that these places were shadier than the guy with the van that has ‘Free Candy’ spray painted on the side, but I must admit that I previously thought the morale of these places and the character of those involved with them had to be exaggerated. I went because I wanted to obtain an ultrasound and my insurance wouldn’t cover one in the first trimester. It wasn’t for medical purposes, just my romantized desire to have one for my pregnancy scrap book. I also knew that they could provide a variety of items that I otherwise couldn’t afford (clothes, baby items, cribs, etc) in exchange for my participation in their parenting classes.

I knew that these places were “pro life” centers, and I knew that the pro life movement was primarily Christian. I accepted that I might be confronted with some religious idealogy. I have a lot of devout religious friends and I grew up in the Church, so I thought that I had thick enough skin to handle what they dished out. I was clear about my intentions from the time I arrived, and I checked my personal beliefs and ideals at the door. I was informed that a counseling session was mandatory before anything else. I had only seen my regular counselor once since I had learned of my pregnancy, so I obliged thinking it would feel good to have someone to talk to about my situation. They had me leave a urine sample and directed me to a room where I waited for the counselor.

One of the first things that I was asked was my religion. I politely answered that I didn’t really partake in one, that I was raised Baptist, but now only labeled myself as spiritual. I was hoping she would leave it at that, but instead she began trying to interrogate me. I tried to explain that even if I told her right then and there that I accepted Jesus as my savior, I just couldn’t force myself to believe it as true. She persisted to keep pressuring me, and even told me her own story of how her “sinful” teenage years had somehow led her to be unfaithful in her later marriage. After the first few minutes, I stopped trying to defend myself and just let her go. [Read more...]