Sep 062010

(from a personal journal-Webmaster) Sometimes I feel like I don’t really belong on either side. there seems to be two kinds of post-abortion women… the ones who are sorrowful and think about their child, their daughter or son, the one who they didn’t let grow up, they have all these regrets, they wonder what it will be like to meet him or her in heaven… and then there’s the ones who scoff and say “meet who? a bundle of tissue? Hokay.”, who don’t associate their pregnancy with a real person at all, no brain, no soul, no nothin’. So which am I? I don’t regret my decision. It was a choice I had to make. A reaction to a situation that I was in. and I still believe it was the right one. There are a billion reasons why not (too young, no job, no money, no father, classes, med school, college, not to mention what I had been putting into my body for the 6 weeks and 5 days before I found out I was pregnant, hell, I was still on birth control)… but when it comes down to it, it was my life. And on top of that, it was my child’s life. A woman in the film I saw today talked about having to make the choice, the choice to love herself… because you can’t possibly love your child until you love yourself. There are so many things I want to do for my children. I mean… when you have children, you are basically signing over your life to them. No going out with friends, no movies, no grocery shopping, not even showers… without finding someone to watch your kids. And I wasn’t ready for that. When I think about my future… when I think about oh, I don’t know… seven? Eight? Ten? years from now, okay. children are going to be a big part of my life. they are already a big part of my future plans. they are the reason that I hesitated in my decision to be pre-med, and why pre-pa is so much more appealing to me. I don’t want someone else raising them. my kids aren’t going to grow up in day-care. so do I consider myself a baby-killer? ::cringe:: well, no… I guess I consider myself a baby-stopper, for the time being. yes, I do consider her to be more than a bundle of tissue, and I do believe that there is a sort of soul involved… but I also believe that she can wait for me. until I’m ready for her. and until I’m able to provide her with the life she deserves. so what was it like? well… I got the test results on a Monday. and though I definitely tried to convince myself otherwise, I knew it for at least a week, maybe two, beforehand. the first day… okay, maybe even the first two weeks… I was just in shock. I went through the motions. I already knew I couldn’t keep her. I had done enough thinking and research beforehand. — I wish I had that quote from Grey’s anatomy last Sunday, the one from dr. bailey about “if you can’t, you can’t”… but I couldn’t find it. — I made the appointment for the abortion like maybe two hours after I found out for sure that I was pregnant. the clinic only did abortions on Wednesdays. I had about $87 in my bank account. at eight weeks it costs $425. after 8 weeks, the prices go up, as does the danger. I made an appointment for the following week and hoped for the best… (not knowing exactly how far along I was). thanks to Jen generously providing me with all her faith, support and about 400 dollars, I was able to move the appt to the Wednesday before. thank god, because I was definitely right at 8 weeks. I went to my softball game. I wondered if I slid too hard on my stomach I would hurt her. I wondered if I was eating the right thing. weird, I know… since I had already decided I was getting an abortion you would think I wouldn’t worry whether I was eating the right things, but whatever… life is funny sometimes, I guess. I went to class. I rode the bus with the sign on the side that said “7 weeks heart beat, 8 weeks brain waves” or whatever it says. and I cried myself to sleep every night, and most of the day. Wednesday came. October 6, 2004. Jen took me to the clinic. we attempted to crack jokes, as was per usual with us around that time period. that waiting room is probably the worst place I’ve ever been. the looks on those girls faces and the… I don’t even know how to describe it… just, the air… it was horrible. I don’t think anyone dared to make eye contact with anyone else. inside the room they do an ultrasound. that I wasn’t prepared for. it made it all too real. the procedure… I won’t go into much detail. the nurse/doctor were quick and curt. the doctor kept telling me to hold stiller. and they played soft music. I say that I don’t regret it, or feel guilty, because it was the right decision… but then again I also refused the pain medication and iv sedation that they offered me, because I felt like I deserved however much it was going to hurt. I laid there for a few moments afterwards. I caught my breath. I listened to the music. and I felt relieved. afterwards the nurse handed me a pile of wet ones, said “clean yourself up” and walked out. I did. then I was led into another room with two other girls who had just had the procedure done. Jen met me there. they had us sit for about five minutes, and then we left. I don’t think I said much the next few days. I probably didn’t go to much class. I slept a lot. and I bled a lot. I sort of just retreated into myself and pushed onward I guess. I had an organic test that Monday. I got a 28%. as for the father? Gawd, I hate even giving him the right to that title. it was a friend from high school. we talked a lot. I had gone to visit him the week before school started that year and things had gotten more physical than usual. it was the best sex I had had… which I guess wasn’t hard to beat seeing that he was only the second person I had ever slept with, minus when I was raped. I found out almost two months later. I hesitantly told him, the day before the procedure. after questioning me, assuming it wasn’t his, he asked what I was planning on doing about it and then proceeded to tell me that we had some serious talking to do “later”… which seemed to be the theme for the rest of the week. he lives in Orlando. he didn’t come for the procedure, but he decided to show up the weekend following, for a party that his friend was having. the first time I saw him since having slept with him, finding out I was pregnant and consequently aborting our child, he was wasted and he barely acknowledged me when I walked into the room. I took him outside, and to be honest with you I have not one recollection of what I said to him that night. I guess I must have blocked it out or something… but I’m sure it wasn’t pretty. he ended up getting a 6-page e-mail, which probably amounted to a big “fuck you”. we’ve since reconciled to some degree… I kept up with him for a time afterwards. I just couldn’t cut him out of my life yet. umm. so yeah. it happened. eventually I let it sink in. I was a mess for a good while. and then there was a night that I went to sleep without crying. and then there was a Sunday when I made it through mass without crying. I prayed a lot. I thought a lot. I wrote a lot. and I grew a lot. it changed a considerable amount of things for me, the majority of which were for the better, I think. I learned a lot about myself and about my life and about what I want from it. it still aches a little sometimes, but for the most part its just part of me. I guess this has been a long time coming. I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your judgement. I just needed to tell my story. some people question how I can just… talk about it. the abortion. the rape. there are times when someone may even mistake it for flippancy. like, “oh last year I went to Disney world…” “my senior year of high school I was raped and then my sophomore year in college I got pregnant and had an abortion.” but you have to put it in perspective. these are things that have happened to me. if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few months its that the more you talk about it, the less power it has over you. everyone has their cross to bear. this is mine.

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