Your Voices…
I have always been dedicated to contraception. Since I can admittedly be quite forgetful, I opted against the pill and had been faithful to the NuvaRing for some time. Abstinence till marriage is rather moot for me as I find the concept of marrying without my parents here on Earth to be heartcrushingly wrong. I still think sex is a very intimate thing to be shared with people that share a connection that they personally feel merits expressing themselves sexually, and hopefully in as healthy a manner as possible. I think people DO need to be mature enough to understand the risks that come with involving themselves with intercourse. This, obviously, may include pregnancy. And pregnancy involves three options, all of which are taking, what one feels, to be the most appropriate action for the situation (being pregnant.) Thus, child rearing, adoption, and abortion are all taking responsibility for the outcome of a pregnancy. I should not have to suffer a life without experiencing the glorious experience of making love with someone we, well, love.
My father died in 2005, and my mother in 2007. It left me financially and emotionally in shambles. As soon as I relayed the news of losing my mother to a good friend of mine, he drove 12 hours from his home to be at my side. We formed a strong bond quickly and ended up in a committed relationship that we are still in to this day (3 years later.)
In October 2008, the unimaginable happened. After taking the third test in a month, trying to calm my (what I considered) paranoid mind, there I was staring down at the double lines, feeling myself whirl into an unimaginable panic attack. Although I intended to keep silent until I could think a little more clearly, my mind went a little fuzzy and I told my boyfriend immediately. My circumstances weren’t unique, and in the grand scheme of things not really even important to the story. If someone is anti-choice, me being hundreds of dollars behind on bills was irrelevant. Me being in a very unstable mind state I suppose was pretty unimportant too. I’m ashamed to admit I lived in a pretty frightening neighborhood where shootings weren’t rare. Because of my horrible credit, I was unable to relocate. It took me two years to find a place that would work with us. After losing my mom, I slipped into a depression and cared very little about the crumbling of my environment, and my boyfriend was struggling to pay the bills since I was too distraught to hold down a job. The dogs turned the carpet into a urine-saturated-germ-breeding ground, and I could smell marijuana in my bathroom from my neighbor’s habits.
Though I have been on the pro choice front for quite some time, I feel I now know first hand that what those pro lifers spew are lies, or at least information sadly misconstrued. Want to hear the spin on this story? I went with one of the pro-life protestors to two "crisis pregnancy life centers." I only felt it fair that I make an informed decision based on all sides of the spectrum and my own heart. I will admit I was a little surprisingly torn with my decision. All I wanted was to better my situation if I was to bring a child into it. I was offered the typical supplies (pretty much the same thing ANY like program would offer, whether state based, pro choice based or pro life based) of formula, diapers, and clothes. Wanna know a secret? The Planned Parenthood I went to referred to similar programs to help mothers get supplies, and discuss these programs during your consultation (whether you have made a decision or not.) The "home" I was offered was a religious maternity home, and it was suggested my boyfriend just "find a couch to sleep on" and I find someone to "deal" with my dogs. Now this may not be a big deal to anyone else, but one of those dogs was my mother. So you can imagine why I dislike the thought of just shoving them in a kennel somewhere and turning away my boyfriend when he was the one person that was there when I truly needed him. After the baby was born I could "leave" him or her at a place while I got back on my feet. They had no solutions for HOW to get on my feet.
The woman at the first place was pleasant, and seemed to be somewhat open minded. She tried to "educate" me about abortion and breast cancer as well as abortion and depression, among other things. Never did she mention the emotional and physical trauma of raising a child or putting one up for adoption. As a matter of fact, I have NEVER heard a pro lifer mention Post Adoptive Depression, though it is recognized by adoption organizations, professionals, and agencies. While toting on about the dangers of abortion, they fail to talk about the statistics on child trafficking in the adoption industry (which by the way is a 6.2 BILLION dollar industry.) Come to think of it, they fail to talk about any dangers of adoption or child rearing, physical or emotional. I find it important to add that there where very few facts she presented (such as the breast cancer claim) that I had not learned from Planned Parenthood. So I am once again led to believe these centers exist to coerce or "scare" women out of their abortion, mostly with religious laced "counseling." They do nothing else that Planned Parenthood does not.
I had already been to my initial appointment at Planned Parenthood to verify my pregnancy and give me my consultation. Never did I catch drift of even a slight bias from the nurse. She asked me what I wanted, and I told her I was a bit torn, but swaying strongly toward abortion. She mentioned adoption, which I immediately rejected, as it’s not an option for me (she still insisted on discussing it and handing me a brochure.) We then went over two fairly thick pamphlets, one on the procedure (as well as the pill, though I declined that option as well) and one on pre natal care. She told me that the clinic offered services for any choice I make, would support me, and counseling was offered regardless of my decision as well as a place to go to deal with abortion grief if it should arise if that was my decision. The next statement caught me a little off guard: she told me that if I wasn’t comfortable using the services at Planned Parenthood, they would refer me elsewhere. Hmm, doesn’t sound like the money hungry organization the pro-life crowd raves on about.
I ended up turning to a famous pro life advocate I had met a few weeks prior as I was volunteering at Planned Parenthood (he was giving pro life speeches on the sidewalk) who had told me he would "give his life for me to see the truth." They expect me to throw this life I have fought so hard for into the dirt, preach that they will help, but when it comes down to it, you know what sacrifices they really make? None. This man has money to burn and still turned a blind eye when a girl turned to him, giving him the chance to truly show how "compassionate and helping" pro lifers are to women. As did the rest of the crowd. They told me I wasn't "deserving" of their help because of the life choices I made.
From the time I took that at home test to the day of my procedure was about two weeks. I had an ultrasound at my final check-up a few days prior. I wasn’t able to just stroll right on in, though I would have preferred that to two weeks of bawling, yammying, breasts that hurt even from just wearing a bra.....only 7 weeks along and I was miserable. Might I also add the cost of the procedure would not have risen because of these two weeks.
Was the procedure easy? It was eight minutes of pretty intense pain, though not the worst I’ve ever felt. I was just petrified at the thought of surgery. I found out I was RH positive, and despite not wanting the shot, the doctor did demand it for my own safety (if I was to choose to have children later.) But as I sat there in recovery while they made sure the bleeding was normal and that I got the medication and whatnot that I needed, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a while. Hope. I was also never more proud in my life to be an American. After Prop 8 passed, a prop based on hate and fueled by lies, I had lost hope in a country that I was never particularly patriotic about in the first place. But that day, I was so happy that I didn’t have to resort to drinking bleach or relying on some concoction online to get that fetus out of me.
After all of the time, the extensive research I have done on both sides (including watching things such as the Silent Scream and videos on abortion), and the pro life propaganda I was subjected to, I walked into that clinic without a doubt in my mind I did the right thing. Period. And I left without a single trace of guilt. Between my recent research, the pro life experiences, and the Planned Parenthood world, it’s evident beyond anyone’s denial that I made an informed and educated decision with MORE then enough time to back out. Speaking of denial, many would claim I’m blinded by it. After the passing of my parents, I experienced many levels of denial actually. All of which were pretty easily identifiable, and all of which I was strangely aware of.
At first I was leery to say ‘she’ or utter the name I had selected as I feared it would give the wrong impression. Keele. One doesn’t have to be physically alive for a name. I believe I have spirits around me, and they are not attached to a life form of their own. The archangels bear names as well and have never taken human form. I love the spirit that I relate to the fetus. I don’t worry much of seeking forgiveness. I don’t believe the simple act of life is the highest accomplishment for a spirit, or that spirits are capable of human ego emotions such as resentment. I also believe God would likely value quality of life over quantity, and would rather see less suffering from those given the breath of life. That fetus was put there for a reason, and the reason just wasn't yet to be born.
For the first time in a long time, I saw a new freshly paved road over my horizon. I can laugh, I can cry, I can write, and I can feel a unique love for Keele. I stand by my choice to return her spirit to the hands of God and the arms of my parents and say "not yet." Coming from a girl that came full circle, heard both sides, and took advantage of seeing (and getting a copy of) my Planned Parenthood ultrasound, I can hold my head high and say I’m not sorry.
Amanda, 25
Mesa, Arizona
******************************
Bruce and I weren't talking to each other anymore. He told me he never wanted to see me again and I was really hurt, because I still had feelings for him. One morning I decided to take a pregnancy test, I was feeling nauseous for the last couple mornings and couldn't remember when I got my last period. I just thought, "It's just being irregular, I'm gonna end up wasting this pregnancy test." I took the test and watched as a "+" formed. I thought, "That's weird. I never saw that before." Then I thought, wait, am I pregnant? I didn't want to believe it and thought the test was broken. I even went on the internet and searched what that particular pregnancy test brand looked like when it was positive. Yup, I was pregnant. I immediately sent Bruce a text telling him I had something important to tell him. He didn't answer. I decided not to get too worked up over it because I had to get ready for class.
Later that day I got to school and sent Bruce several text messages and called him countless times. He would not answer. I knew he never wanted to talk to me again. I was frustrated so during class I just sent him a text saying, "I'm pregnant. Thought you'd wanna know that now, not the day I give birth." He replied, "No you're not, and even if you were, you'll just get an abortion." I was pissed that he said that and replied to him that it was my body and I'll make whatever decision I want. We texted back and forth and his text messages were getting nastier. He said things like, "I already have a daughter. Nobody is going to replace her....Go ahead and keep that kid, he'll never have a father, I'll never be in his life....See you in 9 months...." I started crying right there in the middle of the class. How could someone I trusted and liked be so hurtful like that?
The next couple days were awful. I went to Planned Parenthood and the counselor said I should tell my parents. I told her that wasn't an option, not unless I was sure I would keep it. Can you imagine? I don't think my parents even knew I kissed a boy. Yeah I was 19 years old, but they didn't know I hung out with guys and was sexually active. My parents would flip out on me! We were a traditional Hispanic family. No sex until marriage!!! That would mean that I would have to get an abortion. I had no other choice. I wasn't thrilled with the idea, but it was the only way my parents would never find out. I told Bruce I thought I knew what to do. The abortion would cost $400 and we would each pay $200. Now he started being nice to me and started caring about my feelings. He agreed with the abortion, he said "You know what, this experience will bring us together. Our relationship will be stronger because we'll be going through it together, and I want you to know that I'm going to help you through this."
Of course, my nightmare came true. My dog had chewed up the garbage bag that I threw the pregnancy test in. I came home to an angry mom holding the test. I try not to remember the conversation. It was really painful. She was disgusted with me. My mom said nasty things to me, she called me a "whore", "slut", even a "pervert". She asked what I planned to do. I told her about how I was planning on getting an abortion. Her response? "Good, 'cause if you keep it it'll ruin your life." It wasn't a response I expected from a mother and it really upset me.
The next 2 weeks were awful. My mom would not talk to me, look at me, or even be in the same room as me. I felt as if I had some deadly contagious disease and she was trying to stay away from me. At this point, I hated her. I couldn't understand how a mother can be so cruel to her daughter who needed her help and support the most. My father was disappointed but he tried to act like nothing was wrong.
Then I thought, well my parents know, maybe I should keep the baby. The worst has already happened. I called Bruce and told him about how my parents found out and how I was thinking about keeping it. He panicked. "You can't keep it! I'm not gonna help ok? If you keep it, I will seriously hate you forever Monica. You don't have a good job, you're not gonna have money to raise this thing! I'm not gonna baby-sit, I have a daughter already. She's my only daughter and my world is around her ONLY." I heard a little boy's voice in the background say, "I think you should keep it!" "Who was that?" I asked. "My nephew, he thinks you should keep it." Bruce said. "I'm on speaker phone?!?!?!?!" I flipped for a good 5 minutes.
After lots of crying, I decided that maybe the abortion would be the best decision. I was so upset, I just imagined having a little baby boy bringing so much joy to my life. I wouldn't need to worry about getting a boyfriend or going out or any of that. I would have always have someone to love and they would love me. That's all I needed.
Finally, THE day came. My best friend picked me up from my house and we drove to Bruce's. I knew something was wrong when Bruce got in the car. He didn't say hi or anything. He was glued to his phone texting. I just shrugged it off, I figured he was probably upset about the abortion like I was. We got to the abortion clinic. My friend dropped us off and went to class to take a test, she would be back in about 2 hours. 10 minutes after she left Bruce looked at me and said, "I left my money at home." "Are you serious???" I was pissed. "Yeah, tell your friend to get over here and drive me back to my house." "That's gonna take forever!!! Whatever, when we drop you off, give me the money." I was so aggravated, I had bad morning sickness and was thirsty and starving. I looked at the protestors in front of the clinic. They were holding signs up saying "Abortion is murder!" I felt horrible. I then stared at the one old lady, I recognized her from the year before when I drove my friend to get her abortion. I never thought I would be back at this place.
I did the walk of shame and quickly went inside the clinic. I paid for the abortion myself. After the urine test and blood test, I soon had my ultrasound. I got upset, usually when women get ultrasounds they're excited. I leaned over and looked at the screen. There was a little blob. Soon after, I had my "consultation" with the counselor. It was really just signing a million forms. There was no question like "You sure you wanna do this?" Just, "Ok sign this paper, this paper, this one too and I need to sign here and here and here..." Then the woman said, "You're early."
Then it was time to get it. Since I was the first patient of the day, there was hardly any waiting for me. I got dressed into the paper smock and was lead into the room. I laid on the operation table. I never been so scared in my life, especially when the nurse strapped my legs with those Medieval looking belts. I just stared at the bright light on the ceiling, it reminded me of sitting in a dentist's chair. I felt the nurse stick these circle stickies all over me. She put the IV in me and I heard the heart monitor beeping. The doctor walked in "Hello there! You must be Monica!" He told me his name, but I don't remember. He then put a liquid into my IV, "This is gonna knock you right out, okay?" I just laid there helpless, hoping that nothing would go wrong. Then I start feeling whoozy. "How you feeling?" Someone asked. "I feel drunk." I replied. "What?" "I feel drunk." I then felt something cold be inserted in my vagina. It hurt.
I opened my eyes and was lying on my belly. My first thought was, "I'm on my belly? Where am I? It's all over. I'm not pregnant anymore." I laid there for...I don't know how long. I then heard a bed roll next to me. I saw a girl about my age. She was still under the anesthesia and was talking, "Can I scratch my nose?" Then I heard a couple more beds roll in.
I put my clothes back on and was told to wait in this small room where I had waited previously just before the abortion. I sat down. "Did you get it done?" I looked up and saw a woman, about in her late 20s. I nodded. "Did it hurt?" She asked. "No, they put you to sleep." I said. "Oh ok, I'm really scared." A couple minutes later the nurse called her in. I waited in that waiting room for about 2 hours, starving to death. There was a TV, Whoopi Goldberg was bitching about something on the View. I heard she had several abortions, even one she gave herself. More and more women came in, some who had gotten the surgery done and ones who were waiting to be called in. I looked around and noticed that they were all different types of women. One was about my age and had 3 kids already. Another was in her 40s, her kids all grown. Another was my age, and said she needed to finish school. There was one girl I wondered about. She was busy texting on her phone, sobbing. I felt bad and wanted to give her a hug. Then I threw up.
After what seemed like an eternity, I was told I could leave. I walked outside and saw my friend and she immediately gave me a big hug. I looked around for Bruce. I saw him in the car, sitting in the front passenger seat listening to his ipod. We got in the car, Bruce didn't say a single word. Not even a "You ok? How'd it go?" We got to his house to drop him off. He got out the car. "Bruce, go in real quick and we'll go to an ATM and get the money." I said. "I can't,” He said, "My daughter's coming over she'll be over in a few minutes. I'll talk to you later."
I finally got home and immediately plopped onto my bed. My phone buzzed, I got a text from Bruce. "You're really stupid you know that? You actually thought I was gonna pay you the money?" I was immediately in tears, "What are you talking about? You PROMISED YOU'RE PAYING ME BACK!" "I don't have to do anything! You're so stupid the only reason I was nice to you was to make sure you got that abortion. And now that you're not pregnant with my child, you're not my problem! Bye!" I was enraged, "you're paying me back whether you like it or not, you fucking promised and you're gonna do it!" "Don't you dare come to my house uninvited, remember, that red bandana I wear in my pocket has a real significant meaning and coming over here can be hazardous to your health." "I don't give a shit!!!! You're paying me back I don’t care what the fuck you wear in your pocket!" "Text me again, and I'll report you to the police for harassment." "Start calling them now! I'm not gonna stop texting you."
I never cried so hard in my life. I couldn't even breathe. I was so disappointed in myself. How could I be so stupid? How could I believe that he would pay me back? I hated myself for being so gullible. I should have waited until I got the money from him first. Why did I trust him?
I hated Bruce. I wanted the worse thing to happen to him. I wanted him to get shot and never be able to move again. I wondered, how many girls has he done this to? How many has he screwed over and tricked? How could someone be so heartless and cruel?
A few hours later my mom came home. She walked in my room and sat on the bed, "I'm sorry you had to go through this. See what the consequences are? I'm going to have to bring you to the gyno and you'll have to get tested for every STD. Who knows what you have." I didn't say anything. She was finally talking to me, I wasn't diseased anymore. "You know,” She said, "You're really lucky you live in this. In Costa Rica abortion is illegal. You're lucky you were able to get this done." She walked away.
Yeah, real lucky.
Before this all happened I always told myself that I would get an abortion if I got pregnant. It's nowhere near as easy as it sounds. For the next couple weeks I would have to deal with bleeding and almost passing out several times. It was the most difficult decision I had to make in my life. The pain is incurable. I worry if I'll have trouble getting pregnant again. I feel angry and jealous when I see a pregnant woman, I feel as if she's trying to "show off". I get upset when I see a teen mother. I despise my mother for not supporting me like all those "goody goody" mothers do on those TV shows. Any decision making, as simple as deciding what to have for dinner, triggers a meltdown. As much as I am hurting, I'm glad that I did have a choice, even though I felt like I did not.
******************************
I want to share this. I had my abortion yesterday. I found out almost a month ago that I was pregnant. I am 25 years old working full time and trying to go back to school for nursing. I live with my recently divorced mom and have been in a relationship with my boyfriend for nearly two years.
I found out at my annual pap that I was pregnant. I had been using loestrin for birth control and when I didn't get my period at the end of my pill cycle I waited and never restarted the next month because I never got a period. I found out a few days later at an early dating ultrasound that I was nearly 10 weeks pregnant. I saw amazing images of this miracle inside of me and I fell in love. A love more powerful than anything I had ever felt. I hadn't had any symptoms of pregnancy other than I was tired and hungry more than normal. I felt very lucky to have skipped morning sickness and other unpleasantries of the first trimester. My gyno wanted me to have a visit with a nurse to discuss my options as my first reaction to finding out was not definite happiness.
I can't explain clearly what I felt personally upon finding out I was pregnant. I was scared no doubt. But there was a switch turned on to this unconscious mother inside of me who was really really excited. It seemed that nothing else mattered. All the things I would have to struggle with and give up to be a mother seemed completely irrelevant. I was never sure before this experience whether or not I wanted children and coming out on the other side of things, I now know that I do.
Immediately after my initial visit when I found out I came home and told my boyfriend the news directly face to face. He wasn't happy. Neither was I initially. I told him that I wanted him to think things through and talk to me about it the next day. I figured some thought and clarity would be a good thing for both of us. He already has a six year old son from a previous relationship and I knew his concerns would be different than mine. He struggles with being a single parent and only seeing his son on the weekends.
In the meantime, I had to tell my very supportive boss that I needed a few days off for doctors visit because I was pregnant. My energy couldn't be contained and word spread quickly around the office that I was expecting. This was the first place my pregnancy would be celebrated. I told my mom, whom I live with, the news. I was terrified she would be upset as we are not in the best of situations right now. She surprised me with an ecstatic squeal and a rush of happiness. She turned into grandma on the spot and I truly didn't expect that. It was more than welcome and I was so glad to have her in my corner.
A few days went by and I called my boyfriend to see how he was doing. I asked him and he said he couldn't do it. I was shocked and confused and shouldn't have been. I was just so wrapped up in being pregnant and becoming a mother I saw no negatives. He brought things crashing back down to reality when he said he didn't want another child. He is unemployed due to the economy and struggling to go back to school. He is living in a foreclosed home waiting to be kicked out any day and we live in different states. We are about 30 miles from each other. He didn't want another "baby mama" if our relationship didn't work out. And the final straw was that he didn't want another child being raised in different homes. He gave me my own dose of reality by adding that I wouldn't be able to go back to school or achieve other goals I had set for myself for years if ever.
I was left stewing with my own thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams and choices. I flipped and flopped back and forth unsure of what the right thing to do was. I was raised with both of my parents and I couldn't imagine raising a child without its father. I'm not religious in any way but I believe that a father is a priceless thing in a child's life. I knew I didn't have his support and even though I knew I would do the best I could for this baby I wasn't sure whether it would be enough. I barely make enough money to support myself and I want better for my child. I wouldn't be able to give this child the life I would want for him or her by myself.
At my nurse visit she asked me first how I was feeling and I burst into tears. I had no idea what I was feeling besides very alone. I felt like I couldn't make a decision on anything including what to do about my pregnancy. She gave me all my options. When it came to abortion the conversation what not very positive but she did give me information on clinics in the area that could assist me should I decide to go that route. Despite the fact that she knew I was unsure, she sent me home with a little baby bag which had books, formula, and other helpful items for an expecting mother. That was kind of a tough one for me because I knew they were pushing for me to keep the baby and that made me feel guilty.
After all of this I was again leaning towards keeping the baby and I told my boyfriend that. He flipped out on me and really brought it home that he would not be a part of this baby's life. So I sat down and cried with my mom and told her I didn't have his support and would be raising this child by myself or not at all. I expressed how I was against having a child without a father. My mom stood by me and said she would support whatever I decided to do.
I considered all of my options including adoption but that broke my heart more than anything to think of giving up my child to someone else. This was a life I created and I wouldn't pass it off to someone else. That may be selfish but my greatest fear about adoption is that somewhere down the road that child would find me doing just fine living my life and wonder why I gave them up.
I researched the two clinics in my area that provide abortions for women and scheduled a visit with one. By the time the appointment came around I had made my decision to have the abortion. The clinic I chose was very supportive and professional about everything. It was hard walking past the bible thumpers on my way in and out and I really had to restrain myself from screaming at them. I didn't need any more guilt about this decision. I placed enough on myself that I didn't need it from some righteous stranger.
The clinic did a thorough intake, exam, ultrasound (which I didn't want to see), and counseling with a nurse and a doctor. There is a mandatory waiting period so I scheduled the abortion for a few days later.
I work in the medical field so I wore my scrubs to the appointment hoping to avoid the bible thumpers and it worked. So from my own personal experience if you can get ahold of some scrubs to wear, they are comfy and practical, they helped me avoid the guilt trip on the way into and out of the clinic.
For the procedure I opted for just the local anesthetic. I wanted to go alone and not worry about a driver. I wanted to have my wits and not be drugged out for this. I wanted to feel it and remember it. My own twisted mind would have done it without any anesthesia as I felt I deserved all the pain in the world.
Waiting for them to call me was the longest wait in the world. The procedure was uncomfortable but as I said I was ready for pain. I focused on deep breathing and it helped keep me calm. The procedure didn't last long. It took a few minutes for the local to kick in and then the doctor used the suction and I heard and felt my baby leave me. It was hard to hear. A real nauseating sound. Something I will never forget and something I don't think I should forget. And then it was over.
They walked me into the recovery area where I was surrounding by and facing other women who had just gone through the same thing. I was weepy at first because I was sad but it was hard to look at the other women feeling the same pain and not cry. Then I stopped crying and felt a tremendous sense of relief. There was no reversing what I had just done and I needed to except that. I had my body and my mind back. I felt thankful. I felt so many things. I desperately wanted to leave and after 30 minutes they let me go with some antibiotics and ibuprofen and a pill to recontract my uterus.
Here I am writing this the day after my abortion. During this trying time and especially after I decided on abortion I tried to focus on the positive. I did this out of love. I knew this baby would not have the life or the father it deserved. I didn't know before the kind of person I was dating and got a clear picture through this experience. Needless to say, we are no longer together. He in no way supported me even with the abortion and I realized I deserved better. I realized that someday with the right person I wanted a child. I want the person I am with to want children and be ecstatic on the day I find out I'm pregnant.
I know myself better and I am proud of myself. I am stronger than I ever thought. I want to share my story because it was a difficult decision but in the end I know I made the right one. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to share this.
Coryn
******************************
Growing up Irish Catholic, the only thing I ever heard about abortion is that it was wrong, murder and you would go to hell if you had one. My mother was a young mom, having my sister and I at 19 and 20. She always told us that if we got pregnant as teenagers she would send us away to her cousin’s farm in South Dakota to have “it”. The reality was that she brought me to the closest out of town clinic, and what I had was an abortion.
In regards to the pregnancy, I knew right away. The funny part about it is I can’t really remember the conception at all. I just remember staring at the date. At the time, I was sixteen and working in food services at a local hospital. Everyday I had to deliver juice to the ICU floor. In one of the rooms there was a big flip calendar with the date. Day after day I would walk through that wing, look at the calendar and say to myself, I’m pregnant. I didn’t tell anyone.
My mother forced it out of me a few weeks later. My period was over a week late and she noticed. She confronted me about it and after a long period of denial I told her there was a possibility that I could be pregnant. The next day I took a test and the results were what I knew myself, I was pregnant.
I remember leaving the house for a little bit with the man involved in my pregnancy, not telling him a word. When I got back, my mother told me to go upstairs and call this woman named Jackie. When I called it was an abortion clinic and I was setting up an appointment a week and a half later because I wasn’t six weeks until that Friday.
When I spoke to the counselor on the phone she told me that in the building there were lots of offices including a chiropractor so if the protesters are harassing me I can just say I’m going somewhere else. My mother wouldn’t let me go to a local clinic because people might see me and know. We parked in the back of the clinic to avoid the protesters. The year was 1995 and this was the same place that John Salve terrorized and committed murder just one year before. My father chose to stay in the car. My mother and I walked quickly into the clinic only being seen by one old man who said to me that I had other choices and God can help me. My mother then screamed at him, “WE’RE GOING TO THE CHIROPRACTOR!”
In the waiting room I had become completely overwhelmed by the fact that I was doing this. Even though I wanted to do this and it was absolutely the right decision, I thought I was murdering a baby, my baby. I looked around the waiting room and there were mostly teenage girls like me and everyone seemed so calm. I was so scared and they looked like this was just another day. It seemed as if I had waited forever. I was called up to the desk after a while and was told that my father also had to come up and sign paperwork. At that time both guardians had to represent. My mother went down and got him out of the car and I soon watched him walk into the waiting room. He did not look at me. He walked straight up to the desk, signed what he needed to sign and left again. I felt ashamed and worse for my parents than I did for myself. When he left my mother said to me that when she went to get him, he said to her nervously, “Is she alright.” I felt ashamed and mortified.
As I sat in the waiting room I didn’t know how it was going to go, so every time my name was called I say to myself “This is it, be brave.” The first time I was taken in was to see the counselor. I remember her being a young woman dressed up. It actually felt a little like therapy. Quite frankly I hated that woman. She asked me if anyone was forcing me to do this and if I was sure I wanted to do this. I told her I was sixteen, I’m starting a new school on a sports scholarship and this was my only choice. Then she sent me back to the waiting room where I sat for another hour. They called me in again, this time to check to see if my blood would clot. I remember thinking, please just don’t put me in that waiting room, let’s do this already. I didn’t want to go back out there and see my mother’s look of disgust. But once again I was sent back to the waiting room. After, what felt like an eternity, I finally went in for the procedure. This very sweet nurse talked me through what was going to happen. I don’t remember much of the procedure because I was on general anesthesia. But I do remember that amazing nurse, holding my hand, telling me how brave I was and how great I was doing.
The next thing I knew I woke up in the recovery room. I was in a room with all the same women I shared the waiting room with but now the faces were different. They felt more like mine, a mix between confused, scared but relieved. I left before the whole group and my mother was waiting for me on the other side of the door. We walked to the car, where my father was still sitting. My mother told him that it was over and we drove home not saying a word to each other.
Three weeks later my father brought me back to the clinic for a follow-up appointment. A woman with long red fingernails did my first ever pap smear. On the way home, the only words my father said to me was, “We helped you this time, but next time will be different.” That was the last word we ever spoke about it.
My mother also never spoke about it. She just reminded me to never tell anyone not even my sister. Fourteen years later after getting in a debate about abortion with my aunt and sixteen year old male cousin, my mother brought it up. While we were alone she asked me if I hated her for making me, “you know”. At first I didn’t know what “you know” was. I then realized that after all this time; we were going to say it out loud. I asked her did she mean my abortion. She nodded. I told her that that was one of the best decisions I have ever made and that she should never have bad thoughts about it. I saw years of guilt leave her face just then and even though I think my mother is not completely pro-choice, she felt good about that decision. What I tried to tell her was that it wasn’t her decision, it was mine. No one forced me or made me do anything I didn’t want to. That decision marked my path to where I am now and I couldn’t be happier.
I am proud to now say it out loud.
******************************
I was barely 18, at that time during senior year when everyone stops caring about how they do in classes because by then you’re either accepted to college or not. I was accepted- to just about anywhere I wanted to go. I had accepted a full ride to a nearby state college, heading to live in the “honors” dorm, and life pulled a complete turn on me. I had discovered binge drinking, so even my college-mindedness didn’t keep me from those nights of pure stupidity. I ended up pregnant.
I knew almost immediately that I could not continue the pregnancy. But I also had no idea how to go about getting an abortion- in Oklahoma, with an extremely religious mother. As a matter of fact, just three years before, I would have found myself at anti-abortion rallies. I kept it to myself for a while, but soon enough, a friend must have noticed that I ran out of band practice every morning to puke. Her mom was a nurse, and she saved my life. That friend’s mother helped me find a clinic (in Kansas, of course), set up the appointment, and even loaned me about half of the money. Without her, my life would be very different now.
The guy I was with took me to the clinic that day, and getting out of the car was one of the most horrific experiences I have ever had. There were protesters everywhere, screaming at me, calling me names, “murderer,” “whore,” pushing me, shoving giant posters of bloody babies in my face. These were Christians? The clinic “rescue” team literally rescued me, surrounding me with their bodies, using whistles to drown out the epithets being flung at me. The quiet of the clinic was blessed. If I hadn’t been going to already, I probably would have had an abortion right then just because those people were so awful.
The procedure itself was easy, and despite claims to the contrary, I was counseled for almost 4 hours beforehand, and was given many, many chances to change my mind. I was about 12 weeks, so it was a simple evacuation, and took only a few minutes. Then there was only mild cramping and bleeding afterwards.
When I walked out of that clinic, those protestors didn’t even look at me.
It is now 17 years later, and I have a good life. I am sad that I had to make that choice, but I do not regret it, and I would do it all over again. Over the years, I have helped other women who have been ashamed, frightened, broke. Someone did it for me.
I’m not sorry.
Jen, 35
Denver Colorad
******************************
Due to my religious and home upbringing I was one of the most naïve 18 year old females in the world. I had no knowledge of men and the lengths they will go to and the lies they will tell and, of course, birth control was not spoken of in any of my circles.
I met a young marine who pursued me and made me feel like he truly cared about me. When I discovered that I was pregnant I discovered exactly how wrong I was about the man. I was so humiliated I was like a beaten dog who tucked her tail and ran. He, on the other hand, had his ex-wife call and scream, rant, rave and threaten me over the phone about what would happen if I told anyone, calling me all kinds of names. It was as traumatic an experience as I had ever had at that time and 38 years later I still am not much on personal phone calls.
Anyway, I had no one to turn to at that point. Friends were like me with no experience and would not have understood. I would have cut my tongue out before I would have confided in my mother, she already made me feel wrong and disgusting. I was alone in a world that I did not have any experience dealing with but had no choice but to work my way through the situation alone. Fortunately, I had a doctor that was very supportive and never made me feel like a monster and even stood up to my mother when she tried to get information. My mother was left to either believe what the doctor told her (things just happen sometimes) or guess the truth of why I would need a "D&C". Later when my mother discovered my birth control pills she threw them away and told me I was not allowed to take any such thing as birth control....I was 19 by then and had my own place but I never took another birth control pill, such was her control.
I struggled with my decision for a very long time and for many years felt that God was punishing me because I was unable to conceive when I did finally get married. I eventually adopted a beautiful baby boy.
About 20 years later I found myself in the same situation again. This time I was pregnant with my 2nd husband's baby. This man had told me he wanted to have children with me until I discovered I was pregnant and then he informed me that he didn't mean now, he meant when he was old he pictured himself with his children running around his feet. Now I had a little boy that I had adopted that meant everything to me and a husband who told me that if I had this baby I would never see him again. I could live without seeing him again but I had no insurance for health care and I was the sole financial supporter. I called the local agency for help and was told to quit my job and the government would take care of my medical. So, I could throw us into poverty or I could keep my decent job and continue paying the bills and buying the groceries and supporting my child and myself and have a huge medical bill, if a doctor would see me without insurance...and what about new baby expenses and daycare, there was no money for those things. Or I could have the baby and give it up for adoption and have my six year old watch me carry a child and give it away...and what would that do to him? Once again, it was all on my shoulders and I had no one to go to for support. As much as I had longed to have a baby of my own through the years, longed to have a house full of babies, I did the only thing I felt I could do for myself and my child that was here and had no one but me for his total support. As much as I agonized over my first abortion, this one was even worse.
It has taken many years and many changes in my personal beliefs to finally find peace with my decisions. I made the best decision I could with what I had at the time and were I to go back I would probably do the same again since I would still be in the same position. Were it to happen to me now, with all that I've learned and the resources that are available to me I would do differently...but
I'm a different person now in a different time.
I did not have any counseling available to me, no one telling me options and choices that were available. If there is a change, it should be that everyone had counseling available, especially the young...and of course medical care available to everyone no matter their financial situation. The state services would not help me with just the medical, which was the first main thing I needed. The government needs to revisit their assistance programs where they will not help someone in the situation I was in where I was working for a decent wage but would insist on me quitting my job and then they would "take care of medical, food and housing". Does that even make sense? Of course, that takes us down another path that needs overhauling besides people trying to control what other's do with their own life and body.
I have kept this to myself for all these years. My closest friends and family are not aware of either of my abortions and would be shocked. I hope that my granddaughter is never put in the situation I was in and that if she ever finds a need, she has the same options available without having to risk her life or break the law.
Thank you for supporting the women of our world by being a voice against those who oppose.
******************************
My story:
At 19, I found myself working as a bartender in a seaside oyster bar while I attempted to go to Community College. One night a Brittish guy sat at the bar, talking and flirting with me most of the night. I had never hooked up with or dated any of the customers, but there was something about him. We decided to meet when I got off work and I became totally enamored with him. He was just on a holiday and was only going to be in town for a couple of weeks. We had had sex a few times and always used protection. One night, I don't know what happened, we went skinny dipping in the ocean and things got carried away in the surf. His vacation in America flew by and before I knew it, he was heading back to England.
Two weeks later, I realized I was pregnant. I didn't have insurance and didn't have the means to pay for an abortion, let alone take care of a child. I knew I wanted to be a mother one day, when I was ready, now was not the time. I also knew immediately that I was going to have an abortion, although I cried for almost a week before the procedure. I am a crier, though, I have always cried very easily. A dear friend of mine gave me the $400 to have the abortion and my sister drove me to the clinic, 1 1/2 hours away. The procedure was pretty quick and totally painless. I was told not to eat for a while after, but immediately had a craving for ice cream. I should have listened to their advise, the push pop did not stay down. I healed quickly and never cried again about it. Today, 20 years later, I am married and have a brilliant 10 year old daughter. I am very thankful to have had the choice.
******************************
When I was forty-four and my reading eyes weren't what they used to be, I missed the tiny stamped expiration date on a birth control product that had been in my drawer for over ten years and, to my surprise, I found myself pregnant. I went to a clinic in New York and, as required by law, was counseled by a health care worker who happened to be half my age. I had to tell her that I had used my birth control but did not know that it could expire.
The next day I came back to be assisted by women, at the door, at the desk, in the OR. When the procedure was over I put out my hand and said thank you. The doctor, a bit bemused, removed his glove and shook my hand. I explained that I had been a free clinic director and I know the danger they live in every day. I wanted to thank him for his service to women.
I am telling you this to encourage you that if you have had an abortion; please talk about it, give others the opportunity to ask you about it. Take the opportunity to tell them that it has not destroyed your life. The decision was neither tragic or trivial. Peel off the stigma and shame. Openly discuss that all facets of reproductive health are part of every woman’s life.
- Zoe Nicholson
******************************
I think telling this may actually be theraputic in some ways. I have never even told my now husband the truth. When I first met my husband I had recently gotten out of a horrible abusive relationship that I had a 20 month old son from. I was getting dizzy spells and such so i went to the doctor only to find out I was pregnant. Now I hadn't slept with anyone since my ex so I knew it had to be his. I had a breakdown, I sobbed, I went hysterical, I couldn't do it, I just couldn't have another child with a man as cruel and heartless as my sons dad. He called my son an it, that abomination, that thing. I just couldn't stand the thought of doing it again. I went home to my mothers house, I was 27 years old, and I had moved home in a day to prevent my son from being taken away by child protective services. We talked, I sobbed and kept repeating I just couldn't do it again. I thought about adoption, but in all reality it wasn't a choice. I knew if I carried the baby to term I would want to keep it. I found a planned parenthood that could do abortions and I went and talked to the doctor. I knew I was making the right choice, despite the protesters out front chanting. My best friend came with me that day. When it was done, I felt nothing but relief. I've never regretted it. My sons father is in and out of his life and still treats him like dirt, he has 2 more kids with other women who he doesn't see and he has another on the way. I thank god daily that I prevented having the total be 6 instead of 5. My life is better for the choice I made.
******************************
This is my abortion story:
I became sexually active a week before my 15th birthday with my "first love". We had been pretty hot and heavy with one another for months, but had been swearing we wouldn't have sex until we were married. But hormones are pretty strong at that age, and we ended up doing it for the first time on a couch at his aunt and uncle's house while we were babysitting his baby cousin (I know, right?!).
I actually told my mom afterwards.. This is basically how the conversation went:
Me: "How disappointed would you be if I said Patrick and I had sex?"
My mom: "Very. Did you?"
Me: "Uh, no."
My mom: "Well good, because you are too young for that."
Okay, so maybe I didn't exactly tell her, but I gave her a huge window to talk to me about it, which she chose not to do. Why? Too uncomfortable?
Of course we were too young to handle the emotions that come with being sexually involved, so we became the couple that broke up one month and got back together the next. Meanwhile we were still having a lot of sex (even when we were broken up). Our on again off again pattern only ended when his parents relocated to Colorado the next year.
I never really worried about pregnancy. He never used condoms. Why? We had both been virgins, so neither one of us could have an STD. And he always "pulled out." But, honestly, I think part of me was like those 14 year old girls on Ricki Lake who wanted to be a mommy. Babies were cute. I loved babies. I loved playing with my older sister's sons. And I still thought that Patrick was "the one" and we'd get married some day anyway, right? Plus, the other part of me thought the stereotypical "I'm an honor student, an athlete, an officer in student government...that can't happen to me." A dangerous combination of ignorance.
I honestly don't even remember how I realized I was pregnant. I'm sure their were signs (getting "car sick" riding in the back of my mom's station wagon), but at the time I never thought "could I be pregnant?" Even the morning that I finally said to my mom "I think I'm pregnant", I didn't really believe it. And what's even more crazy, is that I can't even really remember how she reacted. All I remember is that she immediately found a clinic that could get me in that week. (Was it the next day?). I hadn't even taken a test. I hadn't even told Patrick (who was still living in Colorado, but who I did occasionally talk to on the phone).
What I do remember is that even while driving to the clinic and checking in, thinking that it could all be a big mistake. Maybe I was being a hypochondriac. Maybe I'd had my period but had just forgotten. Maybe I'd upset my mom for nothing.
My mom wasn't allowed to go in the back with me. I went back and peed in a cup for my very first pregnancy test, at 16 years old. I remember that they didn't tell me the results, but when my next step was going in for an ultrasound (to see how far along I was), I remember the panic setting in because for the first time I realized that I was really was pregnant. I wasn't being a hypochondriac. I hadn't just "forgotten" a period. My shock was magnified when the ultrasound tech asked the date of my last period. I guessed. But apparently instead of being about 6 or 7 weeks along like my guess, I was 12, maybe 13 based on the size of the fetus. I vaguely remember a discussion about whether or not they could perform the procedure there (2nd term abortions are illegal in VA) or whether I'd have to go out of state. Finally emotion set in full force. I was crying. I was scared. I begged that there must be a mistake, that there was no way I could be that far along because of when I'd had sex (lie!).
I asked to see the ultrasound, but was told it wasn't a good idea. I remember opening the door to the waiting room with my gown already on, crying to my mom that I didn't think I wanted to do this. I don't remember if she was sympathetic or stern or apathetic. But I do remember knowing that leaving that clinic pregnant wasn't an option.
I don't remember much about the procedure. I cried a lot. I remember the nurse holding my hand and reassuring me that one day I'd be older and have as many children as I wanted. I remember laying in the recovery room eating saltines and drinking red kool-aid. I remember vomiting saltines and red kool-aid.
They gave me two prescriptions: one for contracting my uterus and one for a trial prescription of birth control. My mom only filled the one for contracting my uterus, saying "You don't need birth control, because you'll know better than to have sex now, right?" "Of course, mom." On the way home, she reminded me sternly that my father must never find out. She didn't even let me keep the papers to read over. She took them and "destroyed them."
As an adult, I can look back and see I was in denial. Not using protection. Not knowing I was 3 months pregnant! So cliche it could be a Hallmark movie! And the thing is, I wasn't a dumb kid. I was an honor student! I was active in our school's NJROTC unit and had dreams of going to the Naval Academy and becoming a Naval Officer. Maybe even politics!
I did call Patrick afterwards and tell him. He was very upset. I remember phrases like "we could have gotten married and raised the baby together." We bonded over the grief. I was very mad at my mom for a long time. I blamed her for making me do it, saying it was her choice, not mine.
I wish my abortion story ended there, but it doesn't. Within a few months of my abortion, I was sexually active again with a new boyfriend. I wasn't on the pill, but I did ask him to wear condoms. I'd told him about my abortion, so he didn't protest too much. We used them fairly regularly, but we were still irresponsible teenagers, so I'd be lying if I said we used them 100%. Our back up method was the "pull-out" method once again.
The month I turned 17, I began to worry about a late period. I went to the store and bought a test, but I kept my fingers crossed that I was just being paranoid. I wasn't. Two pink lines. I paged my boyfriend, Jason, telling him we needed to talk. He came over and I told him in my living room. He started crying. I calmed him down, and asked him to pay for half of the abortion, because I didn't want to tell my parents. He agreed.
But later that night he called me and said he wouldn't pay his half because he didn't want me to have an abortion. He wanted me to have it. We'd keep it and raise it together. I told him I'd think about it. Over the next few days we discussed what we would do if we kept it. He was less than a month from graduating, he'd work full time he said. We could move in with his mom (he'd told her and she was very adamant we not have an abortion) and she'd help us raise it. But even as we discussed these options, I made an appointment at the same clinic. Because while Jason was a senior about to graduate, I was still just a junior. I had just been accepted into AP classes, just started getting college applications together, and was looking forward to my senior year. And honestly a big factor was: I didn't love Jason and I knew he didn't love me.
The day before my appointment, I told him my decision. He was upset and said he wouldn't support me. So, that night I had to tell my mom, again. But this time I knew it was true. I felt embarrassed and ashamed as I asked her to lend me Jason's half of the money and drive me there. I remember how disappointed she looked in me that I could have been so stupid twice. It was nearly one year to they day since my first abortion.
The next morning Jason called and said he was coming with me (although he still was not going to contribute financially). My mom followed us there, to make sure we actually went to the clinic (I had told her about him wanting me to keep it). Jason and I cried together in the parking lot, but he didn't try to dissuade me. This time was a different experience. I knew the test was going to be positive (although I did hope I'd miraculously miscarried), knew I was about 7 weeks along, knew about the video I was going to watch describing my pregnancy choices, the recovery room... The only difference was that this time I got to see the ultrasound. Seeing that ultrasound was the first time I truly thought about not going through with it. I looked at that tiny fuzzy picture and wondered if it was a girl or boy. What would I have named it? I stuck my head out to the waiting room and saw Jason reading a magazine. Seeing him shook me into reality. We were too young. We didn't love another. He walked over to the door and I told him that I was next. We squeezed hands.
This time I remember the procedure being more painful. Maybe I was just less in shock so I felt it more. This time my cries were less about the emotional, although they were that too, and more about the physical. It was the same nurse. I silently prayed she wouldn't recognize me. If she did, she didn't say so.
After recovery, Jason and I went to fill the prescriptions. I filled the birth control too this time. We got take-out and went back to his mom's apartment. We watched stupid afternoon tv and didn't talk about the abortion. That was the last afternoon we ever spent together.
I wish I could say I started taking the birth control religiously then, but I didn't. The prescription was just a trial. I had to go get a regular prescription to stay on it, but I had never had a pap smear and was too embarrassed to get one. Instead I abstained from sex for a while. When I finally did starting having sex again months later, I used condoms every time.
Finally, my freshman year of college I went to the gynecologist and got on birth control. And for almost a solid decade, I had not one real scare. In fact, the paranoid part of me began to wonder if maybe something was wrong and I couldn't get pregnant anymore. But my rational side shushed that worry and focused on being thankful.
Then, when I was 27, after I'd finished college, earned not one, but two masters degrees, and had a good job in higher ed, my boyfriend, with whom I was madly in love, asked me to marry him. We'd been dating for 4 years and knew we wanted to have kids right away, and since I'd heard that if you've been on the pill for a long time that it takes a few months to get out of your system... we got engaged in August and I went off the pill in September in preparation to "start trying" after our wedding in December. But it turns out that I didn't have anything to be paranoid about when it comes to my ability to conceive, because the first week of November I discovered I was pregnant. With twins.
My initial reaction was pure excitement. I was finally going to be a mommy after all of these years! But then my mind started racing with thoughts like: "my wedding dress isn't going to fit," "people are going to think we just got married because I'm pregnant." I can't say the idea of abortion never crossed my mind, but I can say it was never a real consideration. Because while this pregnancy wasn't exactly planned, I knew that we were ready to have kids, even if it was happening a lot faster than we'd imagined.
We kept the pregnancy a secret until 12 weeks (which ironically was our wedding day), because of superstition and fear of miscarriage. I can still remember the joy of telling our parents (via picture frames reading "Two Peas in a Pod" with pictures of the ultrasound inside). Maybe I've selectively forgotten my mom's reactions to my teen pregnancies because I choose to remember how happy she was to learn about my sons.
My pregnancy ended up being less than ideal. I had a condition called incompetent cervix which required a surgery on my cervix at 19 weeks, followed by 16 weeks of bedrest. Doctors don't know exactly what causes IC, but there seems to be a strong correlation with surgeries that effect the cervix, like abortions. My doctor never said my abortions were to blame, but I do know it was a strong risk factor that caused her to monitor my cervix closely from the beginning (something usually not done unless you've had something in your history to denote a possible problem).
Being confined to a bed for 16 weeks gives you a lot of time to think, so naturally there were days when my emotions were high and and I wondered if my irresponsible actions as a teen were the reason my pregnancy was in danger. But when I started blaming myself too much, I would stop and remind myself that maybe the abortions did lead to the IC, but maybe they didn't. Lots of women have IC with no history of abortion. I would never really know and I had to stop beating myself up feeling guilty about it because what was done was done. What I did know was that I was so thankful that even though I'd always felt ashamed, not so much about the abortions themselves, but by my irresponsible behavior to put myself in the positions to have two abortions so close together so young, that having the courage to be honest about them with my OBGYN had most likely saved my sons' lives.
For sometime after my abortions I felt guilt, remorse, and sadness. I'd see a child that I'd imagine to be their age or look like me or my exes, and I'd get sad. I wondered what if I'd made a different choice. It got less and less with each passing year, but I can honestly say that since having my children, it has vanished completely. I know now more than ever that I made the right decisions all those years ago.
My boys were delivered at 35 weeks old with no complications. Today they are healthy, active, beautiful 3 year olds. They have a mom and dad who are in a stable, loving relationship. We are both well educated and have good careers (although he took three years off to stay home and be with the boys). They do not want for clothes, or toys, or food, or love. This is the life I wanted for my children. My husband is the kind of father my children deserve. I shudder now to think what kind of mother I would have been at 16 or 17. What kind of life those children would have had.
The only thing I regret is that I hadn't been smarter and more responsible about getting on birth control. I get enraged when I see pro-lifers condemning abortion, but in the next breath are adamant about abstinence only sex education. However, I will also admit that I had sex ed in high school. But being taught something in school is no substitute for a parent's guidance. I struggled for years with anger at my mom for refusing to accept the inevitable and encourage me to practice safe sex back then, rather than pretend it didn't exist like she did. But she was a young mom herself, had my sister at 19, and I as I got older I realized that she was just trying to protect me from repeating her mistakes.
My husband was also part of an abortion (ironically during the same month I had my first), and because we have a shared history we also have a shared opinion that we will deal with teen sex much differently than our parents did. We will talk to our sons openly (as much as they'll let us), buy them condoms, explain ovulation in detail, hell, I'll even drive their girlfriend to planned parenthood myself to get her birth control if I have to. Because if I may reach back to high school to quote Donna Martin from 90210 "If you have a swimming pool, you can tell your kids not to go in it, you can even build a fence around it, but if you KNOW that your kids are going to get in it somehow...Don't you think you had better teach them how to swim?"
Thank you for allowing me to share my story,
- Amber Kent
******************************
I never defined myself in the terms of pro-choice or pro-life. The issue never entered my frame of mind until 2001 when I was perusing the want ads looking for a job. I came across an ad for a local women's clinic looking to fill a vacant nursing position. I circled the ad along with a few others to be narrowed down later. After crossing out prospects for this or that, the clinic job remained. "Could I work in an abortion clinic?", I thought long and hard, examined my position and beliefs about abortion and ultimatly decided- yes. I sent in the resume, interviewed and got the job.
Witnessing my first abortion, I was a little uneasy. As if I were participating in some shady back room dealings. After all in my experiences, abortion was only mentioned under hushed voices. I stood there thinking in my head, "Oh my God I'm watching an abortion- she's actually having an abortion!" The whole process became surreal. When it was over the woman was escorted to recovery where she sat next to other women who also had recently had their procedures. All of those women had their reasons for being there and I realized, as I sat and talked with them, that this job was not about abortion. This job was going to be much more than I thought it was going to be. I was not simply going to be a nurse providing abortion care, I was going to be an advocate, a supporter, a confidant, an educator, a resource, a friend. I was to be the hand to hold, the shoulder to cry on, the person who says- it's ok, you're not alone. This was about women's rights and the choice to determine our own destinies.
In the past nine years I have helped thousands, and yes I do mean thousands, of women who have made the choice to terminate a pregnancy. I have seen every age, race, religion and social class come through my doors. I have dealt with every emotion from saddness, guilt and anger to relief and hope. I have cried, hugged and laughed with my patients. But nothing I had ever seen or experienced prepared me for the day that I faced my own unplanned pregnancy.
After the birth of my daughter in 2008, I again chose to have an IUD put in place. I love IUD's and advocate for them for their efficacy and ease of use- set it and forget it! A month after placement when my period did not come I didn't think much of it, after all I did have a baby 4 months ago and my body was still probably getting back into the swing of things. As the weeks went by I started to get a little more worried and finally decided to take a test, fully expecting it to be negative, I just needed a little piece of mind. One pink link line....then 'what the hell?' Two pink lines... no, no, no. WTF? Oh my God, what are we going to do? What am I going to do? We have a four month old daughter. We live paycheck to paycheck with minimal savings. This can't be happening.
My husband arrived home to an emotional wreck. "We have a problem.", I informed him before he could even take off his coat. We talked things over. The usuall pros and cons, financial and emotional impacts were discussed. It was something we were unprepared for, yet something that we could possibly deal with if we had to. He said he loved and supported me, but ultimatly the decision was still up to me. I did not want to have to make this choice- please somebody do it for me. And even though he supported me, I still felt so alone.
I always knew that if I were faced with an unplanned pregnancy that I would choose to terminate. Done and done. Easy right? Nope, not in the least. Although I knew it was the best choice for me and my family I was still conflicted, saddened and angry. I did everything right, so I wouldn't have to make this choice. This wasn't supposed to happen. OK, breathe, I can handle this, I'm strong and rational. I help women through this every day. I know all the right things to say to make them feel better, I can understand the emotions they feel, but... this is me. I eventually give in and break down sobbing for hours until I fall asleep, it was the only thing that seemed to help.
At work, I confirmed the pregnancy with an ultrasound, went to my supervisor and told her that I needed RU486. Working at an abortion clinic does have it's perks. I texted my husband that I began the process and my boss gave me the next day off. 24 hours later I initiated the second step of the process and passed the pregnancy within two hours without incident or major discomfort.
My daughter is now 2 years old, she gets all our love and attention, she wants for nothing. I have a properly placed IUD (I made damn sure this time). My husband loves me and more importantly- I love myself. I tell my patients to just let it out and don't hold back. I ofen share my story with them and let them know that I know what it's like to be put in this position. There is a difference between regreting an abortion, and regreting to have to make the choice to have an abortion. I do not regret my abortion.
I am pro-choice! I fight for women's rights and battle on the front lines. I will rise up, act out, fight back. Abortion does not define who you are. You are not alone- I proudly stand beside you. I am one of 45 million.
- Evie G.
Portland, OR
******************************
The summer I turned nineteen I was living and working on Mackinaw Island. I had moved up there with a friend and worked in a small souvenir shop. My boyfriend followed me up to the island a few weeks later. We lived in separate housing facilities because we worked for different companies and were not allowed to visit each other. We spent most of the summer walking through the woods at night, making love on sandy beaches and even once on The Grand’s golf course. As the weeks wore on he became more distant. I blamed the long hours and grueling work he was doing as a prep-cook. That is, until the night his roommate took me aside and warned me that my boyfriend had slept with another girl from his house. I was devastated.
I begged my parents to let me come home. However, since I was not doing well in school at the time and they were angry with me, they refused. In the midst of all of this I didn’t notice that my period was late. It was then that, at an employee dinner that I started to feel sick and threw up all of the shrimp scampi I had eaten. I went to the island’s only doctor the next day where I received the news that I was pregnant.
I knew I couldn’t tell my parents; it would just be another reason for them to be angry with me. I couldn’t begin to consider raising a child on my own at nineteen. I was an honor student in high school and had been taking college courses since I turned sixteen. I had made some poor choices in the last few years but nothing that could put my life plans at an utter stand still as having a child would.
After informing the father, we decided that an abortion would be the best route to take. We reconciled and he followed me back home. I went to Planned Parenthood and was given a great amount of support and the information I needed to contact the agency in Grand Rapids, which performed my abortion.
It was over a decade ago but I still remember how kind and understanding the intake counselor was. Her office was clean; she was neatly dressed and professional. She didn’t judge me, we simply talked and she put me at ease. The facility was very upscale and everyone was extremely professional. I recovered easily and only suffered a few days of bleeding and hormonal imbalance.
I have never regretted the decision I made. I have a master’s degree, a husband, a home and a beautiful two-year-old daughter now. I truly believe that none of that would have been possible if I had not had the abortion. I feel even more secure in my decision now that I am a mother. I now know what it takes to carry a child to term, give birth, care for an infant and provide for your child.
I love motherhood and I am so happy that I waited until I was prepared to experience it.
Jennifer L.
Ann Arbor, MI
******************************
According to my medical record, I have never had an abortion but if you were to read my journals, you will find it there filed under “Shit my politics did not prepare me for.”
Here’s my story.
What I saw when I looked down at that warm, piss-dampened pregnancy test came as no surprise to me. Really, it should have been a surprise when I looked down and saw two instantly clear pink lines while sitting on the toilet in my mother’s drab bathroom. I was 19. I had sex twice that summer with the same man who I had been having casual, boring sex with for three years. We did all of the right things. We used a condom. When it broke, I took EC less than ten hours later. I called my mother into the bathroom and shared the results with a “calm before the storm” tone. She said “Congratulations, Snooks.”
This wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I was the safer sex poster child on my college campus, leader of every feminist group, letter-writing campaign, phone-bank you could find. People who I didn’t even know would call me looking for advice or information on how to get an abortion, what birth control to take, did I have an extra Plan B on hand? I was that girl.
Here I was a whole three weeks pregnant. To be honest, I can’t even remember the details of telling him that I was pregnant or that, at that moment, I had every intention of becoming a mother. I just remember meeting him at the park and walking around and around the dirt path that circled the field. He made callous remarks about the prospect of paying child support and how I was stuck with him for the rest of my life. My inner voice told me I could and would do it on my own. Fuck him. Fuck his chronically misogynist nasty attitude. Fuck me for wasting three years of my life on him and his dick. I did not want any of that for my child.
I think the worst part of the whole experience is that I felt pregnant. My every sense was heightened to the fact that I was no longer alone in my body, that something was growing with me and that we both were changing, together.
About a week after my test, my mother sat me down on her bed to talk. She told me that no matter what I wanted to do, she was there for me. At the same time, she urged me to think about what I would be giving up if I had a baby—particularly if I had a baby with him. By the end of the conversation, I was making phone calls. First, to Mike and then to the local clinic. Despite his previous contempt for becoming a father, he was not feelin’ my decision to have an abortion at all. Apparently the Pope made a phone call to his heart and he suddenly felt all Catholic about it. The man was devastated but he knew that this was not his choice and that I would not let him make any decisions for me. Do not let this confuse you—I was equally devastated. Despite my feminist politics, my brewing Women’s Studies degree and my participation in any “pro-choice” event I could get my hands on, I felt completely lost. This was not just a blob of cells, just a five minute surgery, or just a stupid mistake. Everything that I had grounded my identity in got knocked on its ass and the sadness I felt would not let up.
I had been to the clinic before. I got my first pap there and recalled the funky purple mugs that said “Four Women: We Give A Fuck” with stars and moons replacing the “u” and the “c”. I was in a feminist space but I found myself afraid of the women who worked there, feeling completely numb despite their warmth. The entire time I was inside the clinic feels like a blur, like I was going through the motions just to get to the other side of the inevitable and to face what it meant to be a woman who has had an abortion.
When I had my ultrasound, the Nurse Practitioner who had given me my first pap smear three years earlier (and who remembered me) let me know that I was too early in the pregnancy and that I would have to come back. I rescheduled for two weeks later when I would be back from my vacation to visit my best friend in North Carolina, where I would celebrate my 20th birthday.
As soon as I got on that plane, I knew something was about to change. By the time I got to Raleigh, I was bleeding. I had what medical folks call a spontaneous abortion over the 24 hours that followed. After the anguish I felt about deciding to have an abortion in the first place, this was worse. At least I had control over the abortion. At least I could own it. When I woke up from napping my way through the cramping and the blood, we had stopped at a Wendy’s somewhere between Chapel Hill and Asheville. I went into the bathroom, pulled down my pants and saw a tiny, 5-week pregnancy sac with a little red turtle bean inside dead and squashed on my pad. I felt like I got punched in the stomach. I showed my best friend the pad, reaching for solidarity. She said ,“Well, at least you don’t have to have an abortion.” Beyond making a phone call to my mother and another to Michael to let them know that it was over, I avoided my deep sadness and getting any medical attention for quite some time.
******************************
I am a 30-year old woman that wants children someday. I’ve known this about myself for a very long time…I feel called to motherhood and I know that I will experience the pangs and joys of childbirth at some point in my life. And I’ve always intended to carefully plan this decision. I started on birth control pills in my senior year of high school and stayed on them all through college and many years after, until some articles on the effects of added hormones on the female body and a conversation with my doctor caused me to re-think my birth control method. Many of the side effects of the pills I was taking were undesirable and I didn’t want the extra hormones messing with my system. Looking back, I absolutely should have started a new method before quitting the old. Duh. But for whatever idiot reason (I was busy, it was on the backburner, I was using condoms, etc.), I didn’t.
Then I met someone very special and I knew right away. My boyfriend and I were together for 3 months when we got pregnant. We were head over heels in love and talked constantly about our future together, even about having babies together. And even though I believed all of these things would come to pass, I wasn’t in the situation I wanted to be when I start to have children. Yes, I had a good job that could support us and yes, I had a house we could live in. But I HATED that job and that house. I wanted a new life; I wanted to live my dreams, I knew I was destined for more and I knew I just HAD to show my children by example that they could live joyful and fulfilling lives doing what they loved for a living. I didn’t want to end up, like so many women who become mothers do, subconsciously resenting my children for taking up all of the time and energy that I could have devoted to making my dreams a reality. I didn’t want to sacrifice or ask my child to sacrifice being raised by a stifled and unhappy mother. That was MY experience as a child growing up and I intended to correct that mistake, not perpetuate the cycle of pain into the next generation. I knew somewhere deep inside that I was not ready to be the mother I could be, the mother my children deserve; the happy, fulfilled, realized woman who loves herself fully and is hence ready to give the very best of herself to her family.
And as much in la-la lovey-dovey land as my boyfriend and I were, my logical brain just couldn’t reconcile starting a family with someone I’d known only 3 months. No matter how perfect things seemed, I knew we needed more time together, a deeper understanding of one another that can only develop with time and experience. I was confident he would make a wonderful father but I wanted more time for us to grow together in our relationship, to discuss ideas on parenting, on life, on everything; to get to know how each of us operates separately & together, to understand one another intuitively enough to establish a profound level of security and faith in each other’s ability to parent. I take the responsibility of parenthood very seriously. This is a life in our hands. This is a mind, this is a soul. I have to be sure the partner I conceive with is someone I want my child to have in their life, someone who will contribute an excellent and healthy perspective. I refuse to try and shape my children the way my parents tried to shape me, to use me as a conduit for fulfilling the hopes and dreams they left by the wayside. It’s critical that I nurture an open, positive playground to allow my children to become the very best of themselves. We weren’t yet in a position to provide that environment and that’s why I decided to abort.
I want people to know that decisions to abort are made VERY thoughtfully. Don’t think for a second that I’m the only one who thought and thought and thought about this and tried to make the best decision for everyone involved, including herself and the potential child to be. Did I experience guilt? Do I still feel shame? Yes. A gushing, seemingly endless overabundance.
I was, up to this point, kinda pro-life. I sat on the fence with the abortion issue. I always told myself if faced with the situation I would “take responsibility” and “own up”-have the child and allow the course of my life to be forever altered because of the poor, irresponsible decision I had made to have sex and forego birth control. But when I was actually in that spot, this seemed a very limited way of looking at and dealing with it. Everyone makes mistakes. My boyfriend and I (along with millions of other couples) made one. Yes, the one we made carries some pretty severe consequences. But does that mean we need to have a baby as a way of punishing ourselves? Doesn’t that put the kid at an unfair disadvantage right out of the gate? It all started to seem really backward. This idea that “taking responsibility” meant I had to have the child and raise it, whether I wanted to or not, whether I or my partner was ready or not…that just didn’t seem right or fair to anyone. As a child, don’t you want to know that your parents wanted you so badly? That they weren’t burdened by the overwhelming dread of stopping all of their life plans to make way for you? I’m not saying these are reasons to abort over pursuing adoption alternatives, but I am saying for the first time I looked at the idea of “taking responsibility” a bit differently.
Rather than something that must be undertaken as a punishment for bad behavior, it came to mean giving a momentous decision the due consideration of candidly assessing the situation at hand and asking what is the best way to proceed. What will be best for everyone involved? Having a child should never be a punishment; it’s way too big a deal to be anything less than a joyously welcome event. Now, all that said…why didn’t I pursue adoption? I’ll tell you the truth. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that if I carried this baby to term I would not be able to give it away. I knew it like I know the earth is round. And it’s not that I didn’t want a baby, it’s that I was not ready. Plain and simple. I deserve to be ready when I have a child; the child deserves for me to be ready to be his or her mother.
I aborted at the earliest possible moment. My boyfriend and I went to the doctor together; thankfully I had excellent medical coverage at the time. He sat with me and held my hand through everything. The doctor was kind but fairly sterile, the nurse was maternal and comforting…always reminding me to breathe. The pain and anguish I felt when the sucking noise began, when I knew this life was being ripped from my womb, was almost unbearable. I wailed, knowing in that moment it was done, there was no going back. I had killed the dream of this child. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t a baby yet, but I knew it was the dream of a child. I knew that. And I still know that today. I wept and wept, curled in the fetal position on that table. It’s been over 3 years since my abortion and I still cry sometimes when I think about how old the child might be today, who they would have become, how our family would interact today. But over time, the pain has become less stabbing, less intense. I feel a sense of excitement again about the family that we will create, the children yet to come. I pray there is a glimmer of the child that would have been in the children I have in the future.
Because of the shame and guilt I feel at ending this dream of life, I’ve told exactly no one about my abortion. Not even my therapist. Only my boyfriend and I know. I don’t want to see or listen to the judgments, the blame and the shame from everyone else; I’ve drummed up a ton of that stuff my own, thank you very much. But silence will not set me free. It will not set women in this country and the world over free.
So now I’m speaking. Trust women. They do not make this decision lightly. They make it with love and consideration because they want the best for their potential child, for themselves, for those who will be impacted. As long as women are robbed of this decision by guilt, shame, judgment or lack of accessibility to affordable abortion care, we will continue to see poor parenting (which can lead to many extremes…poverty, homelessness, depression, crime, etc.) and overpopulation (which leads to the same shit because we don’t have the resources to care for, educate and employ all these new society members). You know someone that’s had an abortion. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you don’t. The statistics don’t lie. “At least half of American women will experience an unintended pregnancy by age 45 and, at current rates, about one-third will have had an abortion. “ (source) Abortions are happening all the time, but we aren’t talking about it. We women are being forced into a closet of silence, shame and guilt. It’s time for a paradigm shift. Let’s be honest about what is going on, let’s work through it together and help each other to heal. Let’s stand up and take ownership for our decisions, and the fact that we know who we are…we are not bad, evil people. We are good women making difficult decisions.
******************************
It would seem that I’ve told my story of getting an abortion at seventeen about a thousand times (well, not that many, but plenty). To date, I’ve written about the experience, spoken about it publically (at Speak Outs--Breaking Silences about Abortion--an annual feature of the absolutely jaw-dropping reproductive rights conference at Hampshire College), and I’ve even appeared on Oprah (with my mom; we were a mother-daughter pair against parental consent laws for abortion). The Pitts-Stupak amendment spurred me to write about it again the other day. I shared my story—seventeen, able to find an abortion, have it paid for in 1981 because I was a minor so federal monies were available, and able to choose when or whether to tell my parents—because what my story illustrates is this: I had agency over my body and truly was able to make a decision about my life that worked for me. I had access to reproductive health services, and I used those services, gratefully.
Here’s what I learned again from telling: the story is the same and changes over time (certainly, I emphasize different aspects). And this story, like any other, hits people in different ways. For example, one friend worried she’d been too breezy in response, while another asked about Oprah, and my goddaughter saw the story as one an older woman wishing the world still allowed younger women those freedoms and protections was willing to share along with that vision.
These days, the story is, for me, about freedoms and protections, about equality, about womanhood and about budding feminism. At other times, it was about silence and invisibility (do you say, in polite company that you just had an abortion and are struggling? You do not). It demonstrated a teen’s denial about being sexually active. It was about a mother’s not wanting her daughter to be sexually active and just saying no rather than asking questions of her daughter. And it was about realizing that as a woman, clearly a fertile one, I could become a mother… someday.
**
As a writer and a former political organizer, I guess it’s safe to say I am a great believer in stories. I find stories powerful, how they open hearts, how they change minds, how they make us all more real to one another.
Many times over, I’ve seen how a personal story can really make a large, lofty “issue” become tangible and real through the human connection and give the impersonal thing a voice.
In a writing group many years ago, I first heard Doug Anderson read about his experiences in Vietnam (a must-read, his knockout memoir, Keep Your Head Down, which exemplifies brave and compassionate storytelling).
Dan Savage’s funny, honest and poignant memoir, The Kid, tells his adoption story so well that my cousin, Janet, gave copies of the book to her family as she and her husband embarked upon their own adoption odyssey, because his experience as an adoptive father so ably explained what open adoption actually is. What’s more, Savage was one of the first writers to bring gay parenting out into the open.
When my much beloved friend, Andrew Harkins, was diagnosed with a brain tumor, he sent a postcard to well wishers, a photograph (that he’d taken; he was a wonderful photographer) of his bandaged head beside his sister’s very pregnant belly, with a simple caption—Not all bumps are bad—and told a story. Not that the entire cancer experience was equally upbeat; yet Andrew maintained a kind of optimism through that extraordinary (way too early) illness and death that keeps those who loved him retelling his stories, and somehow we are still buoyed by those tales, memories, and images. To wit, the photograph featured with this post is by another high school friend, Jordy Rabinowitz, and tells its own story about carrying Andrew forward.
My friend, Jennifer Jacobson, believes storytelling can support children in becoming change-makers. By telling stories, they are given the opportunity to hear their own voices, and in so doing, feel how powerful their stories are. Her organization is called When Children Save the Day. Once a child has a story, and a voice, that forceful young person can take words into action (community service, of some kind). Not unlike Joanna Macy’s Despair and Empowerment in the Nuclear Age model, both approaches make a connection between finding voice and feeling able to take action. Sometimes, when I’m caught up with writing and find myself lacking on the “doing” end of making social change, I have to remind myself that stories and conversations about those stories often provide the impetus for action. In this way (and others), our stories are invaluable.
**
In the current issue of Poets and Writers, author Debra Gwartney writes about how vulnerable she felt writing a memoir, Live Through This: A Mother’s Memoir of RunawayDaughters and Reclaimed Love, in which she describes her two teenage daughters running away from home. She worried she was telling a story that wasn’t hers. After reading a draft, her daughters gave both their blessing and the freeing gift of their perspective; the story their mother was telling was less about them and really about her, so she had to tell it. They pinpointed something so essential about telling—that our best stories reveal us.
Recently, I had an email exchange with the former boyfriend (of seventeen, whose own story about that time would almost inevitably be different from mine, with overlaps), in which we were reflecting upon the nature of being seventeen (as his daughter is now). Of that time, he wrote, “I also think about how, when you were that age, I saw you as a woman...and I was right and wrong about that. And now I see my daughter as a kid...and I'm right and wrong about that too.”
Another thing I love about stories: sometimes, they seem like gems or rocks, to be polished and held in our hands and other times, more like sand sifting through our fingers leaving a dusty residue. That is to say, sometimes, we share them and other times we simply hold onto them or let them go, but each time we tell them, we find something new: in the telling and through the resulting exchanges.
-Sarah Buttenwieser
******************************
Okay, well...here goes. This is my abortion story.
I graduated high school in May 2005 from a town in upstate NY. I gradauted in a class with only 28 other students, and this was a public school. After graduation, I did what most kids do and went to plenty of graduation parties and celebrations, clearly excited about the next step forward.
Since my school was so small, classes would hold events where we could invite people from other schools to participate, such as dances. So I had become friends with some other people at a nearby school, and after graduation, I went to parties in this neighboring town as well. And that's where I met my frist boyfriend. He was clean cut, athletic, and a little goofy, and he seemed to be interested in more than just my body. We spent the summer together, and while I had a lot of fun, I began to realize I didn't care about him as much as he cared about me. We broke up before I was to begin my frist year at Muhlenberg College in Allentown PA, and before he returned for his junior year at a school in upstate NY.
We kept in touch but I didn't expect anything to happen between us again. I was having a great time in college and was so excited to be able to meet someone new everyday. Things were pretty typical until I went home for Thanksgiving break, and my ex started talking to me, wondering if we could hang out. I avoided it for a while because I suspected he was just looking for a hook up while we were both home. However, the night before returning to school, I went to his house and things got hot and heavy quickly, and naively, I allowed the situation to get out of control, and we didn't use protection.
I returned to school a little worried about that night, and if I should seek out some morning after contraception. I was scared however, and in my denial, I did nothing. That sort of thing only happened to other people anyway.
Before long, I was walking around with a gallon jub of milk, craving it randomly throughout the day. I expressed my concern to a friend who assured me that everything was fine. I went home for winter break, got a job, and continued practicing for track on my own time.
Morning sickness does not happen just in the morning, and whoever named it was very unaware that it can come at any point in the day, or last all day. I had to quit my job and stop training because I was just so "sick" all the time. I couldn't make plans because I'd throw up with out a moments notice and it would continue for hours. I finally conceited to the fact that I was probably pregnant, and decided I had to be sure. I bought a pregnancy test while at the mall with a friend, whom I forced to wait outside while I bought it.
I took two of the tests and held off with the third test that came in the kit I bought. Both were positive. I handled it well--but only because now I realize that I was in extreme denial. It hadn't set in yet. I had to figure out a way to get an abortion without telling my parents.
I did online research and found a place back where I went to school that provided abortion services and made an appointment for the day before classes. I told my ex that I was pregnant, and that I needed him to help me pay. He gave me around $300, which wasn't enough for the appointment and the check up a wekk after the procedure. He was supportive of my but actually asked me to pay him back. I didn't.
I told one of my friends from home what was happening, and she actually sent me $150 so that I could be sure that I would be able to go to my check up as well. I was so grateful for that gesture, and I paid her back not too long after.
One of my friends gave me a ride to my appointment, and wanted to stay with me, but I wanted to do it alone. In the waiting room, there must have been 15-18 other girls waiting to get abortions. I was dumb-founded by how often this happens. I had to fill out an info sheet that wanted to know my age, ethnicity, etc. I now felt like a statistic and was angry--I am Puerto Rican, and was upset that I was maybe reinforcing a stereotype about Latinas and I also couldn't believe the insensitivity of it. Asking women to fill out this questionnaire while they're in emotional turmoil. I went in for an ultrasound, and found out the fetus was at 8 weeks.
The procedure went well, but it was painful. I didn't want the anesthetic because I wanted to leave as soon as possible. I cried when I saw the bloody tools next to me, even though I knew this was the right decision for me. I never thought that I would allow myself to get into this position, but I knew I coudn't put my life on hold for a baby. I don't want to be a mother and even if I were to put the baby up for adoption, it would be a child I did not intend on bringing into the world. What's worse to me is having an unwanted child in a world where we are overpopulated, and where there are already plenty of children in foster homes looking for families. I called my friend after the abortion and after I was in recovery, who gave me a blanket as a gift after my procedure. I now refer to it as my abortion blanket.
I felt relieved after the procedure but couldn't help but wonder what the child would have been like. I felt silly thinking these things, because I DO NOT WANT CHILDREN. Why was I wondering these things? I was pro-choice to the bone, and knew I was not ready to raise a baby. My curiosity brought me to an online investigation of what 8 week old fetuses look like. Big mistake. I inevitably was greated by pro-life websites telling me that I was evil and going to hell, and that I was basically a monster for making that decision. I burst into tears and cried in my friends lap for a while.
I recovered mentally after a few weeks, reminding myself why this was the right decision for me, and how happy I am right now just being a student. My family would not be able to support me and a baby, I was funding my education with loans. And as much as pro-life groups say they have money, I bet they don't help fund children until they're 18.
The next year, I found myself working with a professor who was doing a documentary about a clinic that offers abortion services. I couldn't believe what she said about protesters harassing women as they went into the Allentown Women's Center (a place that has gathered a lot of media attention recently after a protestor made a death threat, and the director Jen Boulanger was fetaured on Rachel Maddow, as well as PBS this week). That type of intimidation was something I didn't face when I went for my procedure at the clinic I went to (which will remain anonymous so that hopefully this remains to be the case). So I volunteered to help as a videographer. I wanted to know what these women were facing, and more importantly, how the pro-life movement was trying to restrict the right for women to choose. I saw a lot of things, heard a lot of things, was called evil, and NOT A WOMAN.
Women need to know that this choice is theirs and theirs alone. All of the media that depicts raising a child as a non-issue is blatantly misleading. I even worked as a PA for MTV's 16 & Pregnant, and asked why they don't do episodes showing girls going through the process of deciding whether or not to have abortions. The execs don't want to touch the issue--they don't want to be taking a side politically, so they say. But, they ARE taking a stance! By only showing girls having babies, they're taking a pro-life stance. Even if the show is suppossed to act as some sort of deterant, there's another side of the issue that is being ignored completely, and one that is completely valid and important to consider.
If I had a child right now, I don't think I'd be able to do the things I want to do. Call me selfish, I don't care. I think I'd be miserable, and resentful which wouldn't make for a good mother. What's more important than death is a good life--that's one thing that people keep forgetting. Thank you so much for creating a forum for women to share their stories, and putting the humanity back into the debate.
- Alana Torres
******************************
I live in Brisbane Queensland and grew up in a conservative Christian environment. Since the age of 16 I have dared to think for myself about traditional Christian values and viewpoints however. Thus I was relatively well self-informed about pregnancy.
I was 23 when I discovered I was pregnant to an ex-boyfriend who I still loved and who loved me but couldn't see himself marrying me. I was on the pill but struggled to take it at the same consistent time of day (now, years later, I am on the depo-provera injections no problem). I charted my cycle religiously, so on day 31 I took a pregnancy test (having heard that the test might give a false negative if you take it too early, but wanting as much advance warning as possible). The two lines confirmed I was pregnant. I have never been a maternal person, never felt my biological clock ticking, and always uninterested in babies. All of a sudden I realised I wanted to keep it, but I also wanted to make an informed decision. I wanted to fully explore the ramifications of keeping it, adopting it, or aborting it, so that I could be confident that I'd made the best choice for myself. I knew I had about four weeks before it could be legally aborted, and ten weeks before I felt that that window should be closed (due to spinal cord development) I decided to call the first pregnancy helpline I found in the phone book. BIG MISTAKE.
I was all like, "Hi, just found out I'm pregnant and I would like to discuss with someone all my options."
Them, "Are you thinking about abortion?"
Me, "I want to discuss all my options."
Them, "You know it's life don't you?"
Me, "I did high school biology so I absolutely agree that because it consists of a ball of cells at the moment, it therefore fits into the scientific definition of being alive. Regardless I wanted to get as much information as I possibly can about all my options so that I can make the best possible decision."
Them, "But its life, you can't just abort it."
Me (feeling frustrated and not listened to), "Um, I've already agreed with you that its life, but what I was hoping to hear some factual information about what each different option involves."
... after a few more similar exchanges ...
Them, "It sounds like you're really interested in scientific information, you should go to a website called 'Just the facts' then. http://www.justthefacts.org "
Me (hopefully), "OK, I'll do that."
I went to the website, it turned out to be an emotive powerpoint-style presentation about baby Aoife and how she was already a special little human from day 1 of conception. (The JTF website appears to have improved slightly since then. But is still disturbing in its lack of scientific references and its "dumbing down" of a complex issue.) Other sites (that do not state their pro-life agenda) talk about abortion as a major medical operation and all the health scarring effects of it.
I then did a thorough internet search of pregnancy helplines, trying to determine which ones for certain didn't have an agenda. Finally I found one with a government symbol on it, and I called it with great trepidation. Luckily the woman I spoke to was fantastic. (Hence my advice for when you discover you are pregnant, if a helpline doesn't say its neutral, it probably isn't).
She explained to me that there was a statistically high chance given my relationship status that I would end up raising the child alone and so to prepare for being a single mother at some point, but she also reassured me that there were plenty of resources to help out there and that being a single mother wasn't the end of the world and that I'd cope if that was my decision.
She explained to me that abortion was considered a "minor medical PROCEDURE", that they would most likely give me a twilight anaesthetic, and that given how early along I was, I still had at least another six weeks where I could consider my options more thoroughly before choosing an abortion. (I was determined that if I did end up choosing an abortion, it would be as early along as allowed, to make sure that the embryo's pain system had not had a chance to properly develop).
She then talked about adoption.
I then went and called my ex boyfriend, and admitted to him that I was pregnant and that I wanted the baby. He was convinced it would ruin his life and tie me to him forever, as he would want to be involved in the child's life. If I was making the same decision today, I probably would keep the child and reassure the ex boyfriend that he could have as much or as little contact with me and the baby as he needed, and would give him lots of space to come to terms with my decision. At 23 however, I felt compassion as I loved my ex boyfriend and I didn't want to ruin his life or make him feel trapped into a relationship. Although I was not in a position to be able to afford a baby, I knew I was capable of doing whatever was required within 9 months to get myself into the right position.
Anyway, I ended up deciding to have an abortion, and he agreed to pay for all the appointments and procedure (totalling at least $500) given that it was more his preference than mine. He attended all the doctors appointments with me (including the follow-up after care appointments) and also made sure I was taking care of myself and relaxing.
I ate nothing the night before my procedure, and we arrived at the abortion clinic. The staff there were the friendliest, happiest, kindest people I have ever met (though I was surprised that their uniform consisted of brightly coloured shirts with cats on them). In the waiting room I chatted to an older woman, and she said (in a kind way) I was too young to be a mother and should wait until I was older (admittedly however I can still easily pass for someone in my teens). She had travelled from the other side of the state (1000km) for the procedure. I was told to put on a hospital robe and in the pocket tuck in a change of underwear and a heavy-flow pad. They did an ultrasound, which I didn't get to see the screen, but I trusted that the doctor not showing me was for the best so I didn't ask to see it. I was nervous about the anaesthetic (not a fan of needles) and any pain, but I barely felt the needle, and they made me count backwards from twenty. I don't remember finish counting. It was exactly like waking up from a sleep, I'd even had a dream while under anaesthetic, and I'd felt no pain. I'm guessing that over an hour had passed, but clearly my procedure had been finished ages ago. I sat up, a nurse checked I was okay to walk around, and directed me to a waiting room where there were biscuits, cordial and water. I drank some cordial and immediately went to the bathroom to throw up, and stuck to water after that. After half an hour, I was free to go, so I suppose it was three hours in total including waiting around time. Myself and most of the girls in the waiting room were silent, not in an unfriendly way, but just in a letting each other come to terms with the fact that our worrying about pregnancy was all over.
I'd also been advised by the over-the-phone counsellor to take the day off of work the next day, not because my body couldn't handle it, but just to take care of myself and give myself a break to process what had happened, which I did. Either way though, after about three days, the bleeding stopped. I had no pain over any of that time. Physically I felt fit and healthy as soon as the remnants of the anesthetic wore off. Given the amount of Christian propaganda that I've read, I'm not sure if my lack of physical consequences and the simplicity of the whole procedure was due to the fact that it was a 6-week abortion (the earliest they can perform the procedure) and so my body hadn't gotten into the swing of being properly pregnant, or whether most abortions are that uncomplicated.
I do however wish RU486 was legalised so that women don't have to wait the six weeks of foetal development before a doctor has any methods at his disposal of terminating the pregnancy for her.
I've often wondered what it would be like to have a toddler next to me. Would I still have finished my degree while pregnant and then with a baby? Would my current husband (different person from my ex-boyfriend) have even thought of asking me out in the first place if I was a single parent? Certainly my life is unscarred from the abortion. After the abortion my life continued on the track it had always been heading - finishing study, my ex boyfriend going off to travel the world while I dated new people and met the man who was to be my husband. I don't regret the abortion, and I've gone back to my normal non-clucky self where I have no urge to become a parent anytime soon. I'm also grateful that my ex-boyfriend was with me throughout the whole thing, as I had no intention of telling my parents nor my Christian friends.
My main thinking is that I just want women to have more support. The only nightmare part of my brief pregnancy was those pregnancy help lines advertising themselves as neutral and then being unsupportive. I was unable to talk to my friends or my church about what I went through (and still am unable to share it with them) because I know they won't be supportive. Whatever your perspective is on abortion, any woman who has to consider a decision like that needs someone to listen to her unjudgementally and help her to find out the truth amongst all the propaganda.
The truth is: The abortion procedure itself (in my experience) was painless and had no permanent effect on my body, it is the emotional side that you need to make sure you've got sorted out (by talking to a phone counsellor with no agenda). A phone counsellor can help you brainstorm where to find support and how to ask for it (for whatever decision you've chosen) and can help you figure out what the ramifications FOR YOU will be of any decision. I don't feel any sadness over my decision ("wistfulness" at the absolute most), but I'm glad that the phone counsellor advised me to go easy on myself and take care of myself, and reminded me that no matter what I decide I'll be able to deal with it.
******************************I am a mother of 3 who had one abortion in my lifetime. I made this choice at age 35 when I already had a 10 year old. I was going through a divorce at the time and my new partner, who later became my husband, and I thought we were using a reliable contraception. At the time I was a Sunday School teacher and very active in my Church. To be honest with you, I did not have a moral or ethical crisis about choosing abortion. I was just very relieved that there was an abortion provider in my community. Within a few years I remarried and had two more babies. When people ask me today, at age 55, what were the hardest decisions I've ever made, choosing abortion is not near the top of my list. Deciding to divorce my oldest son's father was much harder and now, dealing with hard economic choices and dealing with two teenagers, present much more difficult choices. I just want people to know that based on my own experience, most women do not go through guilt, depression or moral misgivings when choosing abortion.
******************************
I'd raised my eldest daughter alone with a lot of hardship and some (much appreciated) financial help from the government after being persuaded that I should keep the unplanned baby. Later I'd married and had two more planned daughters. The youngest was 19 months old and was still nursing when I noticed I was pregnant again.
For me at the time there was no question of having another baby, I just didn't want one. The only problem was jumping through all the hoops to get an abortion as quickly as possible. I talked it over with my husband and then started the ball rolling with the abortion process. I found it very frustrating having to wait so long, to get things signed by various people, to get appointments with them to sign them, and to book my abortion. All this time the tiny clump of cells was growing more babylike and I was feeling more pregnant.
In the end we went to the clinic, I was accompanied by my husband's best friend (a gay man) as my husband was laid up with a slipped disc. I'm very scared of any medical procedure but the abortion went smoothly, I'd've been interested to see the cell clump/embryo that came out. I was glad to rest on the bed afterwards. My friend's boyfriend kindly picked me up in his car and drove me home.
No regrets, no strange feelings, no guilt.
******************************
In late June of 1999 I was your pretty typical 20 year-old. I had just finished my sophomore year at the University of Michigan, a declared Women’s Studies/History double major, on my way to the big bright future ahead of me.
My boyfriend of a year was going to State and things were all right.
Except that I got pregnant. And you know what, I fucking knew it the moment it happened. I’m not even kidding. I said out loud “I am totally pregnant.” Which freaked my boyfriend right the hell out. Literally I pulled up my pants, got the phonebook out and looked for the number to the Planned Parenthood to ask about the morning after pill. The woman on the phone gave me the information I was after and I decided to go the next day.
But I was working the next day, how was I going to get there in time? Could my boyfriend pick it up? No. So I decided to myself, “seriously Jen you’re not pregnant. It’s fine.” How did I know I was fine? I didn’t. I wasn’t taking birth control (why? Because I hadn’t made it to my appointment yet, and an honors student attending the University of Michigan as a women’s studies major don’t just get pregnant). I pushed the thought out of my mind completely.
I honestly don’t remember taking a pregnancy test. I know I did, but I don’t remember it. What I do remember is that there was no discussion between my boyfriend and I about what the decision was, because the decision was obvious. I was going to have an abortion. Could we even talk about keeping it? No, because that was a fantasy we couldn’t have, and going down that road would just be too painful, when we both knew the right choice was to have an abortion.
The decision was obvious to us because of who we were, how old we were, where we were both at in our lives. Not only would it be unfair to ourselves, to short change our entire lives because we fucked up, it would be unfair to the child. I was nowhere near where I wanted to be in life to even think about having a family. How would I raise a child? Literally, emotionally, mentally, financially—there was no way. I wanted life to be different for my kids. I didn’t want my boyfriend to be with me because now he had to. I knew my children could have that different life, just not yet. I just needed more time. There was no way I was going to tie my boyfriend to me like that, and there was no way I was going to tie myself like that.
2 weeks before my appointment we had tickets to go to the Tibetan Freedom Fest in Chicago. It was there where I truly felt pregnant. Meaning, I was awed and amazed that my body could get pregnant, that I could have a child; that I could become a mother. This is going to sound so hippy-dippy, but there I was, wearing my long folksy skirt, listening to the Roots and thinking, “holy shit I am pregnant.” And I loved it. I loved that feeling. I loved that baby.
I talked to him (I had decided for sure that it was a boy). I told him how sorry I was. I cried and cried and cried. I went out and bought a pair of baby socks and put them on the bear I slept with at night. I hugged the shit out of that bear. I told him not yet. I told him it was a mistake. I told him it was a mistake of love, but a mistake nonetheless. It wasn’t time yet. It wasn’t meant to be. I wasn’t ready for this yet, not by a long shot.
The actual decision to have an abortion, for me, was not made in anguish. I knew what I had to do. What was anguish was the sadness I felt for having to be in that position in the first place. The sadness I felt for not being ready to be a mother. The sadness I felt because I did want to be a mother, and I was so excited about it. The sadness was about my position in life, not the decision to have an abortion.
The abortion experience itself was, quite honestly, horrible. I went to the Planned Parenthood locally, because that was what I thought you did. I signed a form, handed over $300, and when they called me back I was no longer allowed to sit out front with my boyfriend. On top of that, they were training that day. So, when they drew my blood they showed the woman who was going to do it where to poke and said, “Go ahead and try.” I thought I was going to shit. Then, while performing my ultrasound, the trainer literally said these words (with the screen pointed in my direction), “This is her cervix, here is the uterus, and there is the baby.”
Ok, at that point I said in my head “DON’T LOOK.” Of course I looked. He looked like the teeniest tiniest peanut. And I cried. It didn’t change anything, of course. (When will anti’s learn that making a woman read some shitty paperwork, wait 24 hours, and look at the ultrasound WILL NOT MAKE HER CHANGE HER MIND??).
During the abortion, I cried silently and the doctor told the woman holding my hand to “keep her quiet.” WTF? The woman told me it would be ok, everything would be ok.
And I knew it would be. She was right.
What was all the crying for, if my decision to have an abortion was a fairly easy one?
Point of reference for you readers: crying is what I do best. I cry when I am happy, I cry when I am sad, I cry when I look left and I cry when I look right.
These were tears of sadness for what could not be yet. Something that I was so excited for, but not yet ready for. The decision to have a child is the most important decision a woman will ever make in her life. Parenthood is serious. I wanted my children to know how much they were wanted, that we were ready, that we had prepared as best we could for their well being and happiness.
I do not regret my decision for one second. I don’t regret it and I am not ashamed of it, because I know I did the right thing. I know it like I know my name.
I am happy to say that my boyfriend way back then is now my husband. We have a son, and he is the absolute star in my sky. He wants for nothing. He is the happiest child I have ever met in my life. He is loved and wanted. And I am grateful beyond words to have him in my life. The sun rises and sets with my little man. And I can’t wait to have more kids. Cause now, I know, I am ready. I am the mother I wanted to be.
- Jennifer Klozik DeCapua
******************************
Here's My Abortion Story:
I turned 15 on August 12,2009. On September 18, 2009 I was at a party for my friend's 21st birthday. It was at a club in New York City and I was having the time of my life. What comes next is all from a guess. I had a drink(non alcoholic) and I rested it on a table. when I came back I refilled my drink and consumed the whole glass. That night according to my doctor, I was date raped. I had large amounts of Rohypnol in my blood. He also said to me I was pregnant. I was in a world of trouble. I couldn't let my parents now nor my friends or the rest of my family, but I knew I had to get an abortion. I couldn't live with the fact that I was carrying my rapist baby and there was no way I could go through my sophomore year of high school being pregnant. So I told my aunt. My aunt was in the same position I was in when she was younger but abortion was illegal when she had her unwanted pregnancy so she has terminated it herself by using a wire hanger. At 1 and 1/2 months of my pregnancy My aunt took me to Robert Wood Johnson Hospital to get my scheduled abortion. Outside the hospital there were a bunch of Pro Life advocates who were protesting that I was a murder. But I didn't listen, I knew what I was doing was right for myself. The doctor I had was a female who told me that an early term abortion would be like having a very short period. She laid me down on the table and about 10 minutes later she started the abortion. The type of abortion she performed was a vacuum abortion. After the procedure was done she did a brief observation of me in the recovery room. For two weeks I had to come back so that the doctor could check up on me. I don't have any regrets about my abortion. I'm sure that if I had kept the pregnancy my life would be a living hell. I never told my parents and they still don't know. No one does and no one ever will.
******************************
A decade ago, at 17 years old, I had an abortion. I wish I could say that it was a single mistake I made with a loving high school sweetheart, but I can't. I was a privileged, lucky teenager who made some poor choices and one morning I woke up and I found myself with a drug problem.
I had left home in a blaze of rebelliousness and insobriety and was living in what can only be called a slum with 5 other people in a dirty, dingy, ratty 2 bedroom apartment in my city's core. I still can't even walk by that building, nor look down the street it's on. I was a mess, and I knew it. I had become someone I despised, and I felt I didn't deserve any better. I hid behind a facade of partying and a devil-may-care attitude but deep down I was crying for someone to knock some fucking sense into me. By then I had put my parents through so much that they felt they had to let me go and come back on my own. They knew I would.
Intuition and a gut feeling told me I was pregnant so I went to the women's clinic a few blocks from the building I was holed up in and asked for a pregnancy test. They refused to give me a blood test and instead gave me a little cup to pee in. I went back the next day to get the results. They told me it was negative. I thought that was strange, my intuition is usually pretty good but then again, I was a wreck, so who knew. I went back 4 more times - every time they refused to administer a blood test (I was clearly an addict; I can't blame them) and 4 more times it came back negative. Still, deep down, I fucking knew.
On one of the days I went the clinic I had an argument that evening with another person in the apartment. He began threatening me because I did not do some dishes, and I broke down and told him to leave me alone, please, I knew I was pregnant and just needed to be left alone. That created a shitstorm and that night the boy I was sleeping with (I can't even call him a boyfriend) locked me in the bedroom and belittled me, and threatened me, and called me every horrible name under the sun for hours and hours because of my irresponsible behaviour while pregnant. It didn't seem to register with him that he was an accomplice in all of this, doing the meth and the blow right along with me, and kept at it. Until the day my mother died, that was the worst night of my life. I was fearful for my safety, and I was fearful for my sanity. I know things probably happened in there but the truth is I've blocked a lot of it from memory. Eventually he unlocked the door and let me out.
The next day I returned to my parents' loving arms and homestead, and I apologized for everything I put them through. I can't even think of that day without sobbing. They asked no questions, they just took me back.
A few days later my mother had noticed I was a little pale and not myself. I was sleeping all the time and lethargic. She urged me to see a doctor, as she was concerned I was ill. We went to my doctor (who I still see, when she's available) and I told her everything. She tested me for pregnancy without even telling me. 2 days later I was called by the medical office to go in for my results. She sat me down, told me I was pregnant, and, without missing a beat, told me I should consider abortion. With my choices, and what I had been doing, and considering the fact that I was already quite far along, there was next to no chance it would be a healthy baby. She said she wouldn't tell my mother, I could do that if I wanted. She said that because our province only permits abortions up to the 16th week (though abortion at any time is legal, provided you find a physician willing) she would need to make some calls and arrange something for me, and call in some favours.
I told my parents that night. My mother was angry, my father in denial. The choice was clear; I was not having this baby.
I was already showing, so my mother made me some clothes to wear. She urged me to eat, and sleep, and just get better - emotionally, mentally and physically. She was my rock.
A week or so later I went to the hospital to have the laminaria tents inserted and the ultrasound. The next day was the procedure. That night, I woke up around 2:00 am in intense pain, and bleeding. We knew it could be due to the laminaria tents, but deep down I was almost praying for a miscarriage. My mum rushed me to the ER of the hospital I was having the procedure at, where they examined me and told me I was at risk and needed to remain in the hospital until the procedure. This was at 3:00 am and my procedure was in the early afternoon.
They wouldn't let my mother stay with me. They directed me to the Women's Hospital of the main facility, where babies are born and pregnancies are terminated. They gave me a gown and my mother sat, alone, in the main waiting room a couple of floors below. I sat there, in the gown, listening to bad radio, for hours and hours while a nurse at the front reception desk would occasionally glare at me and say nasty things under her breath.
That was the hardest part. I was all alone, I was in withdrawal, and I felt completely and utterly lost.
The procedure itself was rather smooth, despite it being later term than many. The surgeon was very kind and there was a nurse who held my hand, and said 'Everything is going to be alright, sweetheart.' For the first time in days I felt I wasn't completely on my own. It was over in a flash and they let me stay in recovery as long as I needed to. When I was reunited with my mum we were both very emotional. That day and evening I just relaxed, and my mother made sure I was ok.
For a while after, every time I would see an infant I would wonder what if, but I knew then as well as I know now that it was the only choice for me. My abortion may not have saved my life in the standard sense but it DID save my life. It was the catalyst that made me decide to turn my life around - with a few minor relapses over the following years - and become a person my parents, and I, could be proud of.
I feel I've finally reached that point.
- Hayley B.******************************
I am 32 years old and have never seriously considered having children, I've been too busy with my own life and never thought I was maternal enough to have a child. Besides that, I've never been in a relationship with a man who I wanted to have a child with.
But 6 years ago I met the love of my life and we finally got married less than 3 months ago. I had been on the pill since I was 17, but about a year ago, my hormones started going so crazy that I decided to get off the pill for a while and then try another method of birth control. Even though I'd always been on birth control, part of me was nearly convinced that I couldn't get pregnant. At 32, most every woman I know has been pregnant or had a child at some point and to my knowledge, I have never been pregnant in my life. We were somewhat careful and sometimes used other birth control methods during the last year with no problems whatsoever. Only 2 months ago I went for my annual checkup and got a prescription for new birth control. I put it in my refrigerator, as instructed, and was waiting for my next period to start so I could begin the new birth control.
My period has been completely unpredictable for the last year, so when I found myself 3 weeks late, I wasn't alarmed, it had happened several times before. Finally, my breasts started to get tender and I started feeling tired. Still, I wasn't alarmed because those are typical symptoms that show up before my period starts. My husband, however, insisted I get a pregnancy test. So I humored him and picked two up, went home and took one. Almost immediately, I saw two pink lines. I was shocked. I walked out of the bathroom and he knew by the look on my face what the news was. We sat down and didn't even speak for 10 minutes. Finally, he asked me what I wanted to do. I told him I knew what we had to do. We are both in college; I have one year to go of graduate school to get my Master's degree and he has a year left as well. Now, we knew, was not the time to have a baby.
But part of me wanted to have it. At my age, to finally get pregnant was somewhat of a relief to at least know that I could. And the thought of becoming pregnant for the first and only time by the man I had just married and loved with all my heart really gave me several pauses when thinking about what I needed to do. But in the end, we both agreed an abortion was the best option right now. We both felt disappointed in some ways, but ok with the decision.
I honestly was more nervous going to the preliminary check-up and counseling session than I was going for the actual procedure. I looked around the room at all the other women, some obviously in their late teens, others closer to 40, and everyone seemed uncomfortable and nervous. A few of us at the counseling session talked about our circumstances, which I found comforting. The ultrasound revealed I was 7 weeks pregnant. I declined to see the photo but it was attached to the file they gave me and I looked anyway. It didn't look like anything but a tiny little clump. I didn't know how to feel about it.
The day of the abortion, my husband went with me and sat in the waiting room for the 4 hours we were there. After I went back, he and I texted back and forth as long as we could and that was a huge comfort to me, knowing he was right there. There was a lot more conversation among all the women waiting their turn. Some women had multiple abortions before, some had never had one before. Most all the women there that day already had children. Again, I found it very comforting to talk with them about their experiences and to share mine. Everyone was supportive of the next woman to go back to the operating room. When it came my turn, I was left on the table alone for 15-20 minutes. I didn't feel too nervous. Then the nurses came in and didn't even speak to me. One was eating a bag of chips. The doctor finally came in and he didn't speak to me either except to tell me what he was doing. I was disappointed in the staff's complete lack of bedside manner, but at that point, I just wanted to get it over with. It took all of 2 minutes and while the pain hit me fast and was pretty intense, within 10 minutes, I was feeling better.
It's only been a week now since my abortion and I've mostly been ok with what we decided to do. I've wrestled with it some. Part of me wanted to have the baby, but we knew one or both of us dropping out of school was not the answer. We want to be in a secure place before we even think about attempting to do this again (and this time, it was by accident). For me, the reality of what was happening really forced me to think about my life and what I want out of it, especially regarding family. If nothing else, it helped open my eyes to the possibility of having a child when the time is right and that maybe motherhood wouldn't be so bad. I don't regret my decision but I am sorry I had to make that choice. But I'm glad that safe choice was there when I needed it.
******************************
I need to tell you that my story was first published at the blog of CPC Watch, an organization that exposes deceptive "crisis pregnancy centers" that tell women all sorts of lies about abortion and contraception. I used to work in one of these places. I told women that abortion causes breast cancer and infertility. I told them that the doctors who provide abortions aren't real doctors and that the procedure is more dangerous than a birth. And every Saturday, I gathered with my anti-choice friends in front of the only clinic in Kentucky to "sidewalk counsel" (harass) women. So when I got pregnant and knew I couldn't have another baby, I knew I only had one choice.
It wasn't supposed to happen, as a complicated c-section with my second child made another pregnancy pretty much impossible, or so they said. So there I was. Pregnant, nauseous all the time, with two children and a single income household. There was no way we could pay for the medical care that having a baby requires, much less another child.
I really don't want to tell about how I did it. I am terribly ashamed of it. All I will say is that I had to end the pregnancy. All I will say is that I could not go to a clinic because I was sure my fellow pro-life activists would see me. All I will say is that I ended up in the emergency room with a lacerated cervix and uterine hemorrhage.
I was in such despair at the hospital. Being a woman who fully believed abortion was murder, and yet to commit it in my own life out of my need to not be pregnant, I was a wreck.
The nurse, however, was angelic. I was sobbing in recovery. They'd gotten the bleeding under control, and I was to stay overnight to make sure everything else was okay (it wasn't, but that's another story). After inducing a miscarriage, I had to undergo a D&C to make sure there was no "products of conception" left over. This is not easy in Kentucky, as we have some very restrictive laws on where this procedure can be performed. I've heard of women who need a D&C following a miscarriage having to go to the EMW Surgical Center, the only abortion clinic in Kentucky, just to make sure the "products of conception" don't cause infection. But since they suspected a perforated uterus (which they found), and the hospital happened to have a licensed D&C provider on staff, I got the procedure. "Would you like to see what we extracted from the procedure?" the nurse asked. "Sometimes it helps."
Now I was just under 11 weeks along at the time. The pictures and videos I'd seen and shown at the CPC brought horrible images to my mind. An 11 week fetus? The poor thing had fingers, eyes, a mouth and jaw hinge, oh no I told the nurse I couldn't handle it. My husband said he wanted to see, and I told him that was fine.
When he came back he was in tears. He, too, had seen all the anti-abortion materials I used at the CPC. When he knelt at my bed and took my hand. "Rosa," he said, "you really should have a look."
I was shown the fetus, and I was shocked. I couldn't believe I'd been so afraid to be rid of something no larger than a lima bean! It did indeed help, and in fact was the breaking point for me to decide to end my relationship with the CPC and all the anti-choicers I'd worked with. The other thing I realized is that women don't "want" to have an abortion. Women who seek abortion need to have one. It's not an "option", it is a true need, I believe, for the majority of women to end an unwanted pregnancy.
Now I do have to add I still believe very much that I ended a life that day. While I saw no jaw hinge or fingernails, I did see a shape. The shape of a forming human being, a potential life. Not human life, not a full-fledged human being, but a forming one nonetheless. If I had to do it over again I'd still have ended the pregnancy, but with a legal abortion, because it just wasn't that little potential's time. And that's just the way things are. And it should always be a woman's choice. Because the decision is not just about potential life, it's about your life.
- Rosa
Shepherdsville, KY
******************************
I am 23 years old and had an abortion 3 years ago. I got accidentaly pregnant with an older man. I was unsure of what I wanted to do at the time, but was leaning towards giving my child up for adoption. I told my mom when I was almost 3 months pregnant. My mom immedietly scheduled an appointment for me to have an abortion. I was very angry and sad. I still am angry at my mother. The night before I had the abortion, I had a dream that I was with my child and I could protect my child. I feel like I failed as a mother, as I am unable to do so. It has been a difficult three years since my abortion. I will be forever changed by this experience. I know I am a good person, because we all make mistakes. But it is hard, as I miss my son often. I have lost many friends through this experience as I isolated myself for the first year. I know if I had another chance, I would be with my son today. Abortion is a quick easy procedure, but it is life changing. And just because it is easily accessible, that doesn't mean that it should be. I will regret my abortion for the rest of my life.
******************************
My name is Claudia.
I had a suction abortion almost 20 years ago at age 41.
It was less traumatic than removing my wisdom teeth.
I'm not sorry.