My Abortion Stories
Not that it is any of your business, but I want to tell you the story of my abortions. I've had two of them. Both under wildly different circumstances and times in my life. And both I have never dwelled upon with any ounce of regret or shame. So I want to tell you the story of both because now is the moment to share them. Cause, in the end, sharing always gets us through the darkness of uncertainty and comforts us to know that we are not alone. And right now, we must band together more than ever.
I was twenty years old when I had my first abortion. At the time, I was in a terribly co-dependent destructive relationship that I tried to break free of for months but didn't have the courage. I was wrapped up tight under his spell; he was also my first real boyfriend; we lived together, and he gave me my first orgasm, so there was that too. But our interactions became more and more dramatic as time went on, and it became more apparent I had to break free. Then, when I finally did and was back on my own, I found out I was pregnant a few weeks later.
I called my ex in disbelief, hoping to get some supportive response, but instead, he said this was our "love child," and we must get back together and all about his feelings - never asking about mine. Ultimately, his self-involved reaction only validated my decision to break up, and I hung up that conversation in tears, feeling so alone. Fortunately, I felt safe enough to tell my parents, and they were open and accepting of my choice to have an abortion. I was only 6 weeks along.
I stayed at my friend's house the night before the procedure. We watched Cabaret, drank whiskey, ate pasta, and had a terrible night's sleep filled with tears on his couch. The following day my mother picked me up and took me to the gynecologist's office. The same gynecologist, I must add, that brought me into the world. Also, the same gynecologist who performed illegal abortions all over the country when they were illegal a few decades before. He risked his life and would do it again if he were still alive today. He looked like Santa Claus and had the bedside manner of a grandfather - loving, kind, and larger than life. I immediately felt at ease.
The procedure happened in the office and lasted a handful of minutes. It felt like I was in a Charlie Chaplin movie, everything moving at warp speed. I had some cramping, but nothing too bad and no complications. I was grateful it was over. After that, I kept thinking of all the young girls who didn't get any support and had to hide it from their parents and the terror they must be going through. I became painfully aware of how privileged I was to have been able to go through that with love, support and in a safe, sterile environment.
After my abortion, I lived the next decade terrified of getting pregnant again. Not to mention, birth control options were awful. The pill made me utterly crazy and bloated, the diagram was a laughable mess at trying to get in and out, condoms irritated me, and when I had a copper IUD my body started breaking out in weird cysts (OH, and I got pregnant with that thing too - my son!). My point: having an unwanted pregnancy is sometimes impossible to prevent, no matter how responsible you are. Unless you forgo sex altogether and live in a hobbit on a hill.
My second abortion happened when I was a first-time mother. One day when I was nursing my then 10-month-old son, I noticed my milk dried up. I still had some, but the volume was very low, and the ability to fill a bottle was affected. I was also more tired than my usual exhaustion. I was also rarely in the mood for a sexy time with my husband. Those fleeting moments happened quick and usually ended with a comedy routine of my fully encouraged breast shooting milk in his face from arousing them. Let's just say that the positive pregnancy test was very unexpected and hard to believe. I was utterly shocked I could be pregnant again. Still unaccepting of my situation, I called my gynecologist and told them I wanted to come into the office to see if it was a false positive. They chuckled and said, "I think six positive at-home tests confirm it is not."
We always talked about having two kids but never did we think it would happen so soon after the first one, but these were the cards we were dealt. I tried to get excited about it and wrap my head around the reality and my growing belly, but I never could. I would even get prenatal new age massages, trying to spiritually connect with this little fetus growing inside me - nothing. I wasn't sure what to make of it until my 16-week ultrasound. My gynecologist noticed the formation of the left side of the heart wasn't looking normal. He assured us sometimes this happens and corrects itself. We just had to wait a few weeks for the more detailed structural ultrasound at 20 weeks. And, lo and behold, during that 20-week ultrasound, it had gotten worse. They quickly sent us to a few specialists to see how specific the diagnosis was, and more tests occurred. They found that it wasn't just the heart; the valves and the lung development were also compromised. Not to mention, the chance of surviving the full term wasn't high. But if she did (it was a girl), she would have to immediately undergo open-heart surgery. If she survived the first one, experience five more surgeries before the age of five and be on life-long medications trying to survive with half a heart. It was a grim diagnosis, to say the least.
This was undoubtedly an incredibly hard thing to hear, let alone decide what we wanted to do. We were overwhelmed with grief but dove deep into researching the prognosis we were given (Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome). Let's just say the information we found didn't comfort us. I kept thinking how interesting it was that I never felt connected to that pregnancy from the start. My belly was immense, but nothing - I honestly had no connection to it. Something I never experienced with my son - which was an immediate connection even before I took a pregnancy test. Call it a mother's instinct or, more precisely - OUR OWN BODY.
I remember waking up the morning after we discussed our options and turning to my husband and saying with certainty - I don't want to put this baby through all this. I don't need to prove my strength as a woman or mother if I choose to go through with this pregnancy. It was clear as day my choice. And I was so grateful I could have a choice instead of learning this information at birth or stillborn. So, I had a late-term abortion at 21 weeks in a private medical clinic that was not advertised. A place that you needed to be in the know of with references. A clinic that was full of women who cared about women's health and provided more than just conversation and consulting. They supported me along with the two-day procedure with so much support and care. And the waiting room was full of pregnant women in the same situation I was in. I remember feeling overwhelmed and comforted that I was not alone. We were all in it together and somehow silently helped each other through.
When it was over, I was full of gratitude, not grief, and profoundly grateful to receive the medical attention I needed from a clinic that ensured this challenging procedure was done with compassion and safety. Just like you would want a safe environment to have any medical procedure done. Cause, like it or not, abortion is a medical procedure that affects the mother, the WOMAN, first and foremost.
I have innocently gone along my 46 years on this earth thinking that I grew up in a country founded on Freedom of Speech and Democracy. A country where we are free to be you and me. But now, live in a society where guns have rights that senselessly kill children and a woman just lost her right to her own body. We must help each other now more than ever. So, if you are reading this and find yourself in a situation where you need to get an abortion or you know someone who does, and you feel hopeless and scared - here is a list of some remarkable organizations that can help guide you to find your way. And, don’t forget to use a private browser before you start the search. I can’t believe it has come to this but here we are..
I see you. I hear you. I stand with you.
