There are very real hurts. There's sexual abuse, and PTSD, pressure, and life-threatening circumstances, there's severe stress and financial burdens. There's condemnation and shame, there's anxiety and fear. There's the reality of the world, there're very real women who matter.

There are little ones.

Yesterday, my husband and I went on a date to a conservatory. It was beautiful and green, and luscious. It smelled so good, life everywhere. And each little plant was marvelous. Unique, colorful, patterned, specific. People literally paid $5 to look at a collection of orchids. It was Orchid Odyssey day. We were making our way through each little side room filled with green plants, and then we made our way to the next set of doors, opened them, and we were greeted by color everywhere.

Pinks, and purples, blues, reds, oranges. We had made it to the flower room. And the smell. Ugh. It was like perfume worn with the perfect amount of subtlety. I happily strolled along, admiring all of the delicates, and then I saw this one plant that made me pause. There wasn't one flower that had blossomed yet.

All of the stems were buds with green wrapping, protecting the flower. Just like a womb. One bud, in particular, was the farthest along. You could see the color of the flower inside, the many petals woven together, but not quite stretched out yet. It was strange that the only thing between me and seeing that flower to fruition would be time. It would blossom, and it would bring joy to the many who saw it.

There are little human beings with beautiful potential, with little dimples on their left cheeks, and brilliance yet to be discovered. They are the ones that don't have a voice yet, but they're a work in progress, and their job right now is to grow older, to eventually stretch out and bloom. Just like that little bud.

Some of those little ones, with all their potential, will be met unexpectedly by the hands of a human. Blunt tipped surgical scissors will be plunged into the base of their skull and the tip spread apart to enlarge their wound. A suction catheter will then be inserted into their skull and their brain sucked out. Their skull will collapse, they will be removed, and that little one will be no more.

Some will be given intraamniotic digoxin, a drug that will make that little heart have no more beat to it, and then they will be removed.

Some will be cut with long scissors, each member disassembled, and then removed from the woman. The body parts will then be reassembled to ensure that everything has been removed.

The realism of abortion. Instruments to flesh. I say this because you need to know exactly what it means when someone says 'abortion.' There needs to be education and accountability, and a squaring up to the blunt reality of what abortion is.

There is no need to convince you that the heartbeat of a fetus indicates life, just like your heartbeat also indicates life. I am not here to discuss the details and technical part of what makes someone a baby, and someone a bunch of cells. I think we can all agree it's a someone, and we're all made up of a bunch of cells. I'm also not here to discuss the small, minority exceptions for abortion, including immediate potential for loss of life for the woman, or seriously life-threatening medical conditions.

To point out the obvious, destroying that little one is wrong. Regardless if it is illegal, legal, done in an abortion clinic, performed in a bathroom, inside a body, outside a body. A woman has the opportunity to destroy or to carry life.

It's true, you do have a choice.

You have been given the independence to do as you like.

But the independence and freedom you have been given should not be used to compartmentalize your empathy and grant it out only to those that are in front of us. You have to remember that when we as women fight for our equality of rights, we would be hypocrites to not fight for the equality of the rights for others, including the small little buds in our own wombs.

Abortion activists and supporters are pleading for society's approval of support to preserve reputation and lifestyle in exchange for small human lives. This is not feminism. This is cowardice, fearfulness, and selfishness. A false pride that people rally behind out of forgetfulness and neglect for the ones not seen.

Women, this does not mean pregnancy is easy, caring for a child is natural, or medical bills aren't real. It doesn't mean that it won't be hard, sleepless, or exhausting. But I charge you to do the hard things, to look outside yourself and see that that small little life will stretch out to bloom in the most spectacular of ways. Who knows, they might just have the cutest little dimple on their left cheek. They might be the most beautiful gift to a couple who has been struggling with infertility for years. They might become yours to hold and to care for, to give to, and love.

I charge you as women to defend, uphold, rescue and deliver the ones that can't fight for themselves.

"Defend the weak and fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and oppressed. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the corrupt." Psalm 82: 3-4