I’m Claire, I’ve had three abortions. Regret = zero.
My first was at 21. I worked at a small produce store and lived half-time with my parents. I was in a committed relationship with an older man who had a son. He made it quite clear that he was not willing to raise or support another child. A strict Christian upbringing almost succeeded in dumbing down my brain, but father forced me to abort, as he did not want his burgeoning income eaten away by a child I couldn’t support. As I felt forced, I was sad, but deep inside knew it was best. Was a very irresponsible and unstable person, with only wishy-washy Kodak mental images of parenthood fed to me by our very pro-baby world. The realities of parenthood had not hit home. I simply wanted to ‘save the baby’. Not care for or love it. Just save it. Thank God for selfish parents. Wimpy and weak disposition, every cramp was the end. It wasn’t bad, certainly much better than the morning sickness I suffered (couldn’t eat for a week straight…when I got home afterwards, I emptied the fridge). Partial tissue was retained, had to take pills to expel it. THAT was pain. Felt like dying, called my boyfriend and went to the emergency room. Took a potty break and discovered a large black clump in my underwear. I flushed it and had myself taken home to rest.
I was 24 the second time and had just broken up with a man 20 years my senior. We had been fooling around off and on; one ridiculous afternoon had sex six times unprotected. Had the nerve to be surprised at the test results. He being devoutly pro-life meant ‘we’ decided to keep the baby and live together. Not two weeks later (after joyously announcing to family and friends we were ‘having a baby’), I scheduled an appointment for an abortion, in secret. A sympathetic ex I’d kept in touch with drove me and supported me throughout. Having been there before I was not as nervous, though always queasy when faced with medical anything. No complications, other than parents and friends disappointment.
Last was less than 4 months ago (26), brought to me by the first sexual encounter with my now-husband (unprotected, of course…he ‘didn’t use condoms’ with girlfriends). We married six weeks after meeting. Two days before our civil ceremony, I got the bad news. He, of course, was ecstatic. Hispanic men tend to look at marriage and children as be-all end-alls. Thought I could handle it, but four weeks after our wedding day, after coming upon a childfree website and realizing that this lifestyle was, and had always been, my preference, I dropped the bomb. He immediately threatened divorce, then begged and pleaded, saying he’d ‘do all the work’. Sure. A resounding thank you to myself for having the strength of will not only to endure his torture, but also that of everyone else aware of the situation, including my best friend and beloved grandmother. Each pulled out all the stops to try and sway me. Aforementioned best friend even had a complete stranger try and ‘talk me out of it’ over the phone, while at work! Only served to strengthen both my resolve to get the abortion, and never to breed. Drove self, entertained self in lobby, endured procedure alone, and drove self home (though my grandmother did come to tailgate me the way back to her house). Rested for a few hours, ate any food item in sight (the morning sickness was severe, I had not been able to hold real food down for almost a month).
I see no reason for anyone to be ‘sorry’ about an abortion. Life is not life unless it can support itself…anyone consider a person terminally on a respirator ‘alive’? A fetus has the potential for life, but is not life. Therefore it’s ‘needs’ are superceded by the being that supports it’s existence…a sentient woman. Like me. Who made the best decision for her: to live life without children. Sorry? I cry tears of joy for every day of freedom given by the precious gift of choice. Which MUST be defended at all costs.
