It wasn't as perminent as I thought, it wasn't final. I've always been 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 depros 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.

 

Evangeline.

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