Yesterday I was at the public library with my eight-year-old daughter, Ella, looking for information on French culture for a school report. The librarian found one book on the juvenile shelves then gave us a call number for a book in the adult section. Ella wanted to read the adult book immediately, so we installed ourselves around the only empty table in the children’s section and she opened the book to the middle. “I don’t know why this was in the grown-up section,” Ella said.

“Because it’s for grown-ups,” I said. Although I wondered, too—for about thirty seconds.

Because the next thing Ella said was: “What is A-B-O-R-T-I-O-N?

“What?” I said. Not that I couldn’t spell.

“ABORTION!” Ella shouted, as if my only problem was that I couldn’t hear. All heads—from toddlers to tweens, their parents, and every librarian—turned to see what I would say. Or maybe they were just wondering what kind of mother would let her eight-year-old read a book about abortion.

I pulled the book to my side of the table. She had opened it to the chapter on “Courtship and Marriage” and was reading about how changing views on the Catholic Church in France have affected abortion practices and therefore birth rates. “That’s why this book is for grown-ups,” I said.

“But what does abortion mean?” she persisted.

“I don’t want to tell you.” Those were my exact words, juvenile and stubborn, like a playground taunt. Ella pouted, of course now more curious than ever. I scooped up the book and told her it was time to go home.

But why didn’t I tell her? I don’t think it was just because it seemed like my entire town was watching or that I was afraid the two- and three-year-olds would look up from their Very Hungry Caterpillars and become prematurely sex-starved.

Maybe I didn’t tell her because the word means so many different things to so many different people. But if I don’t provide Ella with my version, she’ll fill the void with rumor and misinformation.

She’s bound to hear the word during the presidential campaign. I remember canvassing in my neighborhood for local and national politicians and hearing some people tell me, from behind their screen doors, that abortion was the one issue they considered when choosing a candidate. I sometimes take Ella canvassing with me, and I don’t want her to have abortion explained to her by angry Tea Partiers.

I don’t remember explaining abortion to my son, since it fell to my husband to give him the “sex talk.” What I do recall is discussing the book Freakonomics with my son when he was thirteen, including the chapter that explains the drop in crime rate as a link to Roe versus Wade (fewer crimes were committed because fewer criminals had been born).

No matter what side of the political spectrum you’re are on, abortion is not a happy subject to talk to your children about. Part of me is sad that I can’t keep Ella innocent of it forever. But the other part of me realizes it’s my duty to keep her informed. Now if I could just figure out what I’m going to say.