My Year as an Abortion Doula

This article is deeply appalling.   I read a few excerpts of it to my wife, Amy, this morning.  Here is one:

When we take her into the OR, she’s crying, fighting strong contractions. “You’ll get to go to sleep in just a minute, then it’ll all be over,” I say. “I know you’ve waited so long.” She grunts in response. She’s grown sick of me [her abortion 'doula'], rightfully, and resists my touch. They put her out.

The fetus comes out easily; they put it in the bucket and shove it near me. It is fully intact, curled on its left side, fists closed, knees bent up. He sleeps just like you, I think. Then, a second thought, an act of distancing: He looks more like an alien than a person.  

I have, by this point, seen lots of women and lots of fetuses, and the sight of the second doesn’t change my feelings about the first. The mourning for what could have been is countered by an appreciation for what is — a woman’s life, allowed to proceed as she wants it to. When it is over, I say, “You did great. You were so brave,” and I tell them they’re done now, because sometimes they don’t know. “It’s all finished,” I say.

Amy gasped when I read this sentence: "The mourning for what could have been is countered by an appreciation for what is — a woman’s life, allowed to proceed as she wants it to." 

Amy: "This has to be satire."
Me: "No, I'm pretty sure it's not satire."
Amy: "It can't be true."
Me: "Amy, this is what such people think."
Amy: "Are you sure?  Why would any pro-abortion proponent write such a thing?  It's counter-productive.  They don't like to have abortions described."
Me: "Maybe the author was feeling but not really thinking when she wrote this."