Ok. So I guess this is my first time ever publicly admitting to anyone other than just a handful of close, personal friends that in February, at the age of 29 years old, without hesitation, I chose to have an abortion.
I say without hesitation, but I have to explain that that had been my immediate decision from the moment, I discovered that I was indeed pregnant- pregnant by a man whom I had only met a month prior. This man had come into my life in the most unexpected and surreal fashion, and as crazy as I felt, and to this day still do feel for this guy, I knew in my heart that the “timing” of this pregnancy would never work out for anyone’s best interests….except maybe my own- a lesson learned the hard way that I shall now live with for the rest of my life. I had the abortion performed at only 4 weeks, a major reassurance to my conscience that it would be least devastating knowing that I would merely be removing what had been described to me as just a “blood clot” at this stage of pregnancy. One dear friend of mine, an honest and sincere woman wise beyond her 28 years, confided in me after I shared my decision with her the fact that before any woman has an abortion, she MUST realize that for every day thereafter she WILL question and ponder EVERY “what if” that popped into mind concerning the possibility of the path she did not choose to take. I heard her words. I thought about my life if I were to have the baby, and ultimately, my decision never waivered. Of course, the support of my new boyfriend- whom I must reveal at this time had two children at the age of 27- helped strengthen my faith in the idea that termination of this pregnancy was in everyone’s best interests. Yeah, I hadn’t the faintest clue as to what I was about to experience.
The day of the abortion was the most emotional day of my life to date. We were running a bit late, never out of the ordinary for either one of us, and low and behold, just as we approached the red light, where we were to turn left into the business complex of the doctor’s office, there stood a small yet dominating group of women holding giant posters of a digitally enlarged fetus at 4, 5, and 6 weeks old. My lover asked what I wanted him to do, should we just turn in there as planned? NO!! I told him as I became VERY emotional for the first time that morning to bust a U-turn and we’d enter the complex a little ways down. I felt the shame and guilt start to wash over me like a heavy downpour. By the time, I had walked into the office, I was sobbing uncontrollably. The fact that he was still holding himself together, showing no signs of doubt as of yet, only made me feel so rejected and very unsure about my entire destiny. After leaving him in the waiting room amongst all other fathers-to-be that were about to be “let off the hook” also, I was escorted to a room where I filled out about a dozen forms, signing each one in a blur, then shocked as a nurse went ahead and handed me a handful of pills. One would be for nausea, another for anxiety, a couple for pain, and so on. There looked to be about 20-25 women there altogether.
Slowly, we were lined up along a wall that lead to the room of doom. As I sat and tried unsuccessfully to think of anything else, one by one, I witnessed the pills take effect on almost every female, and I anticipated my drugs helping me to enter such a haze just as they were. I had no such luck. Girls had to be escorted down the hallway with a nurse on either side, helping each patient scuffle to the surgical area while I, surprisingly to the several nurses who watched me at this point, insisted that I could and would be able to manage walking without assistance. A nurse I had come to be more open with had inquired about my tolerance to prescription medication, in which I had told her that my mind had always seemed stronger than my body and that I surely did not feel the effects just as the women already snoozing in their chairs pre-procedure. This nurse told me she had a high tolerance herself, and was able to slip me two more pills that I quickly swallowed with the hopes that they’d hit me before the doctor did.
As my turn approached, my sobs had returned and I questioned what I was about to experience with every ounce of my soul. I wanted to ask the man whom created life with me for his final answer, and was told that was not able to happen this late in the process of it all. Apparently, it was told to me later, that upon getting on the operating table is when I totally lost all control of my tears and fears. I kept saying no, wait, but the anesthesiologist gave me the dose of twilight medicine that I’m positive had been the norm for each female before me. A few minutes later, I was NOT in a twilight state whatsoever. The doctor, frustrated I’m sure at this set back in his busy workday, told me that if I continued to cry as I was, he would not be able to perform the procedure. I tried to stop, I think (?), but he resorted to looking at the anesthesiologist and asking her if I’d handle another dose in which she agreed I could and that was that. I awoke long enough to where I remember being escorted to the back door that lead outside where I was met by my handsome new lover who took over the role of my caretaker and helped me into his truck. I fell immediately back to sleep. We rented a hotel room for the rest of that day and night, not wanting either one of our family members whom we still shared a roof with to know what we had just done. I laid down only to pass out again. He ran a few errands returning shortly after with food and a few other comforts from his house that helped us mindlessly occupy the next 24 hours. He was sweet and attentive. I was already harboring resentment that two women before me, probably without his questioning them, had conceived his child and probably never had the option in their mind to terminate such a miracle. Why did I have to be the one who made the hardest choice of all? To answer my own question, I conveniently told myself that I had gotten pregnant SO much sooner than the other two, and that neither of our families would have been able to handle such news from the both of us, therefore convincing myself yet again that I had made the correct decision for everyone.
Now, just to inform any female who may find herself in a similar situation, if you believe that you can have an abortion administered, and then proceed into life never thinking about your past ever again…..You will be sorely disappointed and sadly mistaken. I still, almost one year later, think about what might have been on a daily basis. It is hard to look myself in the mirror and not still have regret and shame for what I have and have not done in my life, due to simple outcomes stemming from MY own actions. It is a choice that I know will continue to haunt me for the rest of my life, leaving me no other choice but to move on and push those memories out of my brain.
So, after all this depressing, devastating, negative energy rambling, I MUST describe where I currently find myself to date. I am still in a relationship with the same gentleman as I was with before. I had been a faithful consumer of birth control medication ever since the dreadful day in mention, and yet this past October, I discovered that once again I was expecting a baby. (YES!! ATTN SPERM BANK: YOU WANT TO MEET MY BOYFRIEND!! HE MUST CONTAIN SOME POWERFUL SWIMMERS IN WHICH THE MOST INFERTILE FEMALE COULD PROB FERTILIZE HER EGG). This time, I cannot admit in any way that I believe(d) I’m ready to be a mother. BUT I could conclude that I was NOT ready to ever live with the fact of having to make the same dreadful decision as I had made before. It almost feels at times like this was meant to challenge me, to make me realize that there are unexpected events that occur in the most unconventional ways, thus forcing us to change and adapt and to live a life that does not continue to allow ourselves to remain selfish and tunnel visioned to the idea that our lives unfold only how we allow them to be. God throws us curve balls, it’s up to us as mere humans to decide whether or not we’re gonna take a swing.
I’m 20 weeks along almost, and scared as I am, I’m also excited to experience what I abruptly chose not to experience before. I hope and pray everyday that I will be a good mother, but at least I know one thing for certain…I’d be a bad woman to ever think that I could take the easy way out of major responsibilities that were created from the same actions that I repeatedly decided to continue doing, even after a horrible experience such as an abortion. If you don’t wish to have children, do not even consider having sexual relations with a man. Otherwise, please prepare yourself for the unexpected. What goes around, comes around and you’ve just gotta live and learn for yourself. I learn EVERYTHING the hard way. Thanks for reading this.
When I was 16, I had sex for the first time. I was totally in love with my boyfriend, so much so I probably would have taken a bullet for him. I really believed we were meant to be.
Well, about I’d say a week after we had sex, I started noticing myself changing, EARLY, Super early pregnancy symptoms, I tried to ignore them, thinking I was just worried over nothing. But I missed my period, I knew I was pregnant, I didn’t wanna believe it. About 3 weeks later, I took at test. I knew what the answer was gonna be before I even took the test, So I went ahead and set up a doctor’s appointment too.
After I took my at home test, I called my boyfriend, who was getting distant from me and I knew he was about to leave me anyway, but I had to tell him he was going to be a father whether I could handle his reaction or not. And of course, He bolted. He gave me a million reasons why he didn’t wanna be a father and didn’t want anything more to do with me.
I balled my eyes out for what seemed like days and days. I loved this little baby I knew absolutely nothing about it, other than it was going to ruin my life. But I couldn’t abort it like my ex had wanted…there was no way. I loved it too much already, and it was the only thing I had left of the love of my life, It seemed to mean so much more then.
After dealing with the stress of having my parents know and the morning, noon, and midnight sickness that refused to go away, I was a mess.
A few days before I was supposed to go to the doctor, I had a miscarrige. I didn’t know what to think. I was totally devistated. I felt like a part of me had just been ripped away. Everybody thought that I should have been relieved but I wasn’t. I felt so lost.
After a while, I thought I was over it. It had been a few years and I was 19. One day, while sitting at a red light, talking to my mom in the car, I broke down crying. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t even know what had made me think about it. But I still think about it everyday. My mom explained to me that I would just be made me a stronger, more understanding person, and it has. And that it was not my fault like I thought it was. For years, I wondered what it was I did wrong. She explained to me that maybe God had other plans for me. My mom has been my rock through all of this. I’d never have made it without her.
Still, I love this little baby I’ll never know. And I hope it knows that wherever it is. I know I wasn’t too far along, almost 9 or 10 weeks, but it still hurts. Just I have decided to use this lil one who’s out there watching over me (I hope) to be my inspiration to do better for myself. To just be the best person I can. I’m about to turn 21 soon, and it still gets to me. I know all things heal with time and nobody can tell you how long it will take you to “recover” from something like this.
The baby’s father’s cousin and I have been really good friends for years and he explained to the baby’s father exactly what I was going though and had been put through. Since then, The father and I have become friends again, only he knows some things just can’t be forgiven right now.
The point of my LONG story was, this can be one of the most emotionally painful thing anyone can ever go through. The loss of a child, born or not, is horrible. And sometimes, you need a lot of support to work your way through it.
So I am here for anybody who needs somebody to talk to. Whether you were only 2 weeks along or 14, I get what you’re going through.
I was in the US Navy. Who would have thought that the people that are supposed to protect the country could be so cruel?
I guess I was just 18 and naive. My first day on my ship, my Master Chief told me and the group of newbies to, “watch your back, you’re fresh meat. Condoms are free in medical.” I kid you not. I wasn’t the type to sleep around, I never was. I’ve never done the bar or club scene either. But I hooked up with one of the guys in my division and things were going fine. January 1, I got off duty at 0730 and got the duty driver to take me to my barracks room along with 2 friends, and another guy from another division. We were dropped off at the gate and the 4 of us decided to stop at the gas station and get some booze to celebrate the New Year since we had all been on our 24-hour duty schedule.
So we picked it out and the only one of my 2 friends old enough to buy alcohol stayed behind and bought it while the rest of us walked to the barracks. The new guy asked if he could join us all, and the guy I was hooking up with told him sure he could, but first we were going to go to the mall. So we did.
Now, I had never met the new guy before, but something about him gave me a bad feeling. At the mall, I didn’t want to walk by him or anything. He kept offering me money and to buy me clothes and such. He just seemed too eager. I wrote it off as being socially inept.
So we got back to the barracks. Along the way, we had lost him, thankfully. Too bad about an hour later, he came knocking on my door. Now I wasn’t too worried, I had my two friends with me, what could happen……?
I was raped. I don’t know if i was drugged, or just blacked out from the alcohol. I have a black hole in my memory that is at least 2 hours long. I remember a shadow on top of me and somebody else taking the bottle of Smirnoff from me before I dropped it. Then hours later, waking up in a different bed, but still in my room, and in my pajamas instead of my jeans.
I wasn’t told what happened for 5 days, until one of my ‘friends’ couldn’t handle the guilt. My two ‘friends’ had stripped me, showered me, and dressed me after the rape. They said I was awake and talking during the two hours I don’t remember, that’s why I think drugs were involved.
I didn’t report the rape to my superiors until a Second Class Petty Officer made a snide remark. That was 27 days after the rape. I decided to be taken off the ship and moved to a temporary duty station.
Now I said I wasn’t the type to sleep around, but after the rape and the remarks and the looks, I went on a downward spiral that landed me in Bar’s bed. I really liked Bar. Dead sexy, charming, hard working, protective. Everything I needed after what I’d been through. But then I had to be moved to a different barracks closer to my new duty station. That’s where I met Del.
Del is so charming and handsome. He’s also a snake. And a liar, a cheater, and a suspected child killer. He’s also the father of my 4 year old daughter. I ended up pregnant at 18, he was 23. He wanted me to have an abortion, but no way was I going to do that. Then he told me why he wanted me to have an abortion. He’s married. Too bad, so sad for him.
I ended up getting out of the Navy so I could raise my daughter. I got my associates degree too. It was stressful, and I missed her when I was gone, but it worked out.
Remember Bar? Well when I left the Navy when i was 7 months pregnant with my daughter, we started calling each other. We called each other for 18 months, then he came to visit me in Feb. And in Sep., we got engaged. Oh I loved him. He was great to me. At least, to my face.
In January, I got pregnant. LOL On New Year’s day. No alcohol this time though. In February, on Valentine’s day, we closed on the loan for our house. Great, right? July 2, I’m 7 months pregnant, and now single. He left me pregnant and with a mortgage to pay.
I had my son in Sept. He’s so handsome, and for 8 months, we were so happy. Then Bar decided to take me to court for visitation. He got it. Supervised visits every other Tuesday and Wednesday. That only lasted for 3 months. Then the courts gave Bar overnight, unsupervised visits. Now mind you, he lives in New York, not a resident of Ohio, where my son and I live. So my son stays with Bar at his friend’s house like 15 miles from my home.
Bar is also trying to get the court to sell my house so he can get off the paperwork. Too bad I’ve been trying to get him to sign a quit claim deed for 2 years. He just wants money. Speaking of money, Bar gets all the parental rights he wants, but hasn’t paid a single cent in child support.
Every other week, I go through the hardest thing any mother goes through. Giving her child to somebody she not only hates, but doesn’t trust either. It’s like a recuring nightmare. However, I am allowed phone contact with my son during the visitation. Too bad Bar denies me.
Both times I became pregnant, I thought of an abortion at one point. But being pregnant with my daughter literally saved my life. With everything that had happened to me, I was suicidal. The balcony was looking pretty good. But when I looked over the balcony to the ground below I thought to myself, “If I jump, and I don’t die, but I kill the baby, I don’t think I could live with myself.” I went through this train of thought many times.
With my son, while Bar was still around we both talked about an abortion, we didn’t think we were in a good situation to have a baby. But I haven’t been with Bar since I was 18 weeks pregnant. He doesn’t get to make my decisions. But I made the classic mistake of thinking that maybe once the baby was born, we could work things out and be a family. I was wrong.
I agree with a lot of women who say that they hate their baby daddies. I hate mine. But I also love them both. I have two beautiful, healthy babies because of these males. I am mostly indifferent to my daughter’s father, I just resent him not even trying to know her. But I hate Bar. I want him to leave my son alone and let him be happy. I want him to stop hurting my daughter by being cruel to her. But I love him every time I see my son grin, because without Bar, my son wouldn’t be here.
I couldn’t wait anymore.
I just HAD to find out. I thought it would be too early, it’s only been about 2 weeks since it happened. But I read about the first response tests and I had to see it. I had to know. I tested positive around 6:00 pm on January 7 for my first baby. I’m only 16, but I’m taking care of my responsibility with my boyfriend. Only obstacle I now face is telling my mom and daddy…
What’s gonna happen ???
I think the hardest part of finding out you’re pregnant is the worrying. Worrying about telling your boyfriend, your family, your friends. Worrying about the future, money, education, jobs, a place to live. My first thought was “this is a life sentence.” I am going to have something that I can never walk away from when it frustrates me, or break up with when I can’t be bothered anymore. This will be my life, and other people will have an opinion on it. (I’m only seventeen.)
But since I found out, which is about 3 months ago, I have grown up so much and MY opinion has changed entirely. This is something I will have for the rest of my life. But it is NOT a negative thing. Everyone I care about has been supportive from day one, most of them are probably just as excited as I am.
Life is not short. Life is the longest thing you will ever do! There is plenty of time for college and a career. It just has to be put on the back burner for a while.
And all the people with opinions? If I wanted them, I’d ask! This was my life the last time I checked and since when have my decisions affected you??? So the people who tut when they see my pregnant belly? I don’t care. The people who gossip about me and say nasty things? Well I think it was Eleanor Roosevelt who said “small minds discuss people”. Worry about what’s going on in your life, not mine!
But lastly, The biggest thank you has to said to my family, friends, and of course, my boyfriend who have and do continue to support me, no matter how out of control my hormones are. For anyone else who has any worries about what’s going to happen…..another favorite quote is “The only person standing in your way is you.” In fairness, who else would dare stand in the path of a rampaging pregnant woman???
Que sera sera…you just have to deal with the hand your dealt. Do your best and ignore the people who try to put you down. They have no idea what this situation is like until they are in it themselves.
So for now, I’m happy to be covered in stretch marks, hormonal as hell, and spending the majority of time in the toilet. I’ve made my peace with my situation and hopefully, I’m growing into the type of mother my kid will look at and say I wanna be just like my mum.
It wasn’t as permanent as I thought, it wasn’t final. I’ve always believed that it solved problems, but that changed when it was my turn to make the decision. I knew that I had to but that never made it easier…
Afterwards, I pretended everything was alright, that I was fine with what I had chosen to do, but I wasn’t. A part of me died that day on that table, I will never be the person I was before the procedure. I don’t think I’ll ever really be OK again. I kept telling myself that therapy and anti-depressors would make me feel human again, but it didn’t. I think it made it worse. If there was an answer, a pill, a treatment that could wipe away the memory of that child or that could make me feel like myself again, I’d try it, I’d try anything. I’m so desperate to be OK, just OK… not fine or perfect, just plain OK.
There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about it, when I don’t wonder about my little baby. Would it have been a boy or a girl? I would’ve wanted a little girl, Sophia, that’s what I would have named her… Would she have resembled me or her father? I picture her with her father’s kind, warm, loving green eyes… I can imagine her first steps, her first words, but I’ll never experience that with her, because I killed her. What kind of mother kills their unborn child?! Sometimes I think I didn’t deserve that perfect little angel, that I’m not good enough to love and appreciate a precious gift like that.
I spend every hour of every day remembering that mistake, reminding myself, punishing myself fro having an abortion… The longing to rectify that mistake, to have another child to make up for what I did is so intense and all consuming. The pain gets worse every time I see a pregnant woman, when I see a mother with her new born baby, when I hear a baby laugh or cry, it breaks my heart into a million tiny pieces and I cant put it back together anymore.
