At a certain point in this journey – if journey it is, without clear destination – you begin to realise that actually the reality of one’s experience is in a place between the passion and conviction of the two ideological sides of the debate about abortion. And to this place… there are no signposts and no-one comes. Everyone is looking out the other way, in opposite directions – towards the valhalla of women’s wonderful right to choose an abortion or towards a sanctified baby saved from death… Those who have had “chosen” to abort because no-one welcomed them or their baby and it somehow began the horrifying best choice will then become the hidden people, ghostly wraiths whose child never existed and whose grief must be carried in solitary confinement. The heat and the fury of the abortion debate all dies out once you get to the other side of the decision and you realise… that the reality of abortion is that almost no-one actually cares about the fall-out. All the walking wounded can do is stand up and make their presence known… if they dare confront the indifference and rejection that will greet them.