So, here it is from the beginning. I’d always dreamt about having a baby. Since the losing my virginity 98% of me worried about getting knocked up and the other 2% wondered what it’d be like. About what I’d do if it ever happened.

The man who fathered my baby is 26 and we’ve been screwing around in an undetermined half-to-full relationship for the last year. We love each other very much but are not ready to be parents.

I got pregnant. I’m 18, and was almost out of the woods, damn it! [At my work] I was asked twice if I was having a baby by a little girl who’d touch my belly. Later on I had been meditating and felt a warm, filling energy passing through my womb from the Earth, it was a holy moment but I didn’t think I could be pregnant. I had also gotten very drunk the last weekend, which I never do and now felt bad.
I saw those 2 blue lines and my jaw dropped then instantly burst into tears pleading with the bathroom, no, no, please no, no, Oh God.

It was faint but there. My rational side started planning out the next steps I would have to take, I couldn’t keep it. My emotional side was torn up. As I would expect of another teenager I thought he’d want nothing to do with me after this and wondered who’d be there with me. I have a hard time opening up to him and so called my oldest friend. She took me to the [women’s clinic] with her new 1 month old. Sure enough, knocked up. Reality still hasn’t set in; it’s still easy to assuredly say, “Of course I’m having an abortion, when’s your next appointment?”

He called while we were driving to the clinic and knew what was going on. So when he called after to hear the verdict I told him I was pregnant, it was so odd to say out loud. I didn’t realize I hadn’t expected him to participate in any part of the process until he said he was on board either way. It was wonderful to realize he was a strong support that I really needed so badly, but it made me consider actually having this baby. The inner conflict began, it was almost instantaneous having just found out in the first place.
That night and most of the subsequent nights I slept with him at his house. I felt like I shouldn’t in front of him because it might hurt him but I would touch my belly, over where I thought the baby would be lying inside me. A few times my hand burned when I held it against my skin, holding myself and imagining it growing. It was an incredible thing for me to walk around knowing something was growing at an incredible within me at that very second. I had a sense of fulfillment. In nurturing and nourishing and protecting a very precious gift, that was mine and his.

Over the days, I talked with a lot of people about it, not realizing it was not exactly a subject people generally talk about. Great, now everyone knows I’m pregnant, and he and I’d just gotten in a fight a week before in front of these people too. Screw us right? Well, we’re in it together and it I felt much closer to him and still do as a result of this experience. Everyone was really supportive anyway and I was very grateful. However, one woman who’d had an abortion told me a horror story and it freaked me out. My mother also was not supportive at all when it was already hard to tell her and I needed her support.
Anyway, I continued to smoke. I felt bad but reasoned that I was aborting it in a couple days with my Wednesday appointment so what worse could I do, it didn’t matter. I started breaking when I realized that. It was real. This was all really happening. I wanted someone to tell me what to do, give me the right answer. He wasn’t very decisive, at least, he said it was my decision and he was onboard no matter what. I wondered what if I had initially said I wanted to keep it, would he have tried to talk me out of it? But I doubt it. I yelled at him over his indecision.

The reasons to abort were very clear. And there were many:
·    I’m too young
·    We’re very broke
·    We’re not ready to parent
·    I don’t want to trap him
·    We’re not in a solid relationship
·    If we had it, he’d want to raise it and I’d want to give it up for adoption
·    I may not be able to go through a pregnancy, give birth, see hear and touch my little-baby-him-or-her and would try to raise it thereby impacting everyone’s lives in a likely negative way. I can’t offer it a good life right now
·    All our talk in recent weeks has been about the negative results of babies and how glad we are we aren’t having one
·    We don’t know where we’ll be in the upcoming years and don’t want to be stuck here
 
So on and so forth…

But pregnant, when I was alone, I felt radiant, and feminine, purposeful and grateful. I felt full. I had cramps for a week before I finally took a test to make sure before I left for Arizona and Yosemite for the summer. The cramps continued now and served as a constant reminder of the baby. It affected everything I did. I thought about it 24/7 and cried a lot. Now these cramps made an idea become a physical reality and coupled with constant fatigue and bloating were my only symptoms of early pregnancy.

I know the day I got pregnant. We were making up after a disagreement and didn’t have condoms. I could get Plan B from my friend the next day so we went for it.

Planned Un-parenthood Day came. I should be in Yosemite by now. But this was reality, I was here and Mr. Wonderful was with me almost the whole time. In the stirrups they checked my uterus and did an ultrasound. I had been excited yet dreading this moment, my one chance to see my baby before it was gone, my partner held my hand and stood next to me. One nurse tried, ultrasound wand and goop pressing all over my uterus from inside my vagina; looking…looking… no baby! Though they did find a massive cyst 4 cm in diameter. I think, no way, I just took a test the night before, it was clearly positive! Two try, still nothing, but they made me take one more urine test and it was positive. They said it was just too early to see anything and I could still go for the D&C (I opted to take care of it in one day instead of doing the 3 days of pills or whatever) or I could wait for it to grow which would make a successful procedure more likely. I wanted to be done with it and I wanted to resume my travel plans ASAP. I also couldn’t wait any longer and risk losing my nerve thinking about “letting it grow.”

I tried to get the hardest drugs but my veins wouldn’t cooperate with the IV so I got Vicoden and anti-anxiety pills instead. They made me loopy and emotional. When they called us in after waiting for the drugs to kick in for a half hour I stumbled a little in front of the waiting room, how embarrassing. There was some woman who joined my partner and me in the procedure room. She was a support aide for me. I wanted her to leave but didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to be rude. But by the time the doctor came in I was struggling unsuccessfully to hold back tears. He was nice but when he started I realized I could still feel most everything. It was a new kind of pain, I squirmed and whimpered and gasped and tears leaked from my eyes. The room felt like it was spinning as I looked into the eyes of my lover, my guide and my supporter holding my hand and fixed on me with mixture of pain, concern, calm and love. The fluorescent light above with the poster of some tropical place taped to the ceiling combined with the stupid aide nurse telling me, shh shh breathe in an overly compensated comforting voice was overwhelming. I wanted to punch her. The doctor opened my cervix and I could feel and hear the suction as he repeatedly pulled and poked which felt like getting my uterus torn out. When he finally left my body he could see I was upset and quickly left without saying anything audible. With my feet in the stirrups I instantly broke down and my love stood over me and held me.
That was the single most traumatizing experience of my life - so far. I flashback to it all the time and suddenly feel out of breath and scared.

Once I could get up they took me to a dark area with chairs, heating pads, water, crackers and a nurse to recover for 30 minutes. I wanted to leave but they said I had to stay for monitoring, they were kind. My face felt pale and swollen when I was released and walked out through the crowded waiting room, again embarrassed of the eyes following me. We drove home and he took care of me while I slept a lot over the next day or two and struggled to walk, go to the bathroom, or move much at all and at one point had the most severe cramping pain which I can only guess were contractions or something. But in little time I was fine and felt great relief. I went back in to get blood drawn to test for pregnancy hormone. Soon I could leave, finally! They called me back with the results.

“I’m sorry but pregnancy hormone was detected and has increased from the last analysis. We need you to come in ASAP.”

I thought it was over. I was in shock. I started thinking, what if I’m supposed to have this baby? I can’t go through this again. I’m so tired and this is so unfair. I felt helpless. But I shut it away and in an hour my partner and I were back in the clinic.

I could crack jokes and be sarcastic about the whole thing last time. But now, I felt tired and broken and sad. My baby had survived and was still living inside. My partner was exhausted too. He’d taken care of me and had been so supportive but it had to be draining. I felt him shut off.

It was ultrasound time. The new doctor (number effing 6 on the “Who’s been in my Vagina This Week List”) took little time to find it. On the screen was a centimeter wide little black circle encased in white. I thought, my god that’s my baby, and wow, and aww. In that moment everything changed for me. My heart ached in my chest. Suddenly it was more real than before and now I felt instantly the urge to protect this baby and keep it safe in its little environment. The doctor left for a while and I put in my clothes and sat down next to my partner. I stared at my hands and the floor with my thoughts swirling, my stomach upside-down and my heart sunken to the ground. I had to know what he was thinking.

“Should we still do this?”

“Having second thoughts?”

“What did you think when you saw it?”

I was shocked at his next words and have felt alone ever since.

He goes, “I thought, oh f___ that’s where my [semen] goes.” He thought of it as an amoeba, a glob of tissue. It hurts so bad I almost become enraged to this day.

Of course, I couldn’t expect him to be as connected I guess. He wasn’t pregnant. He left to make a phone call and I sat in the cold exam room waiting for the nurse to prep me. I looked at the open adoption pamphlet. It was what I’d wanted as an alternative to termination. I wanted to throw up, I was sweaty. I couldn’t get my thoughts straight or process all my feelings, I still have to be tough and go through with this…right? said my rational mind, and I quieted myself down. I needed my partner to talk through this with me. But the nurse came in and we fooled around with my uncooperative veins for 15 minutes before finally getting an IV in. I would’ve cried if I had to go through it again without serious drugs, I was such a mess now that I think about it.

Back in the waiting room, eyes followed the obvious “I’m having a surgical procedure, guess which one everybody!” needle and tube taped to my hand. I found my partner and we talked again but were short with each other. He was low on energy, I was too but my adrenaline was pumping a little.

He said simply, “The same reasons all still stand behind doing this, but you have to choose. I can’t make this decision for you. You know how I feel.”

I wanted to have the baby, half of me did. But I was trying to stay rational.
 
The procedure was a much better experience (than the first time I tried to kill my unborn child. Ouch a little dark humor!). Before I knew it we were in a different procedure room with dimmed lights, IV drugs and no aide with my partner by my side. I could only feel a tugging. My heart was weeping, but I didn’t want to cry again, I just relaxed as I imagined my baby leaving my body. I said goodbye to it and tried to pass it my energy.  The motherly doctor said she got a part of the sack. My heart broke but I was on drugs and was locking eyes with my partner. He held my hand and I asked what happened to the fetuses. She said they were incinerated and dumped in the ocean. I thought that was nice and looked at my partner and said so.

A large part of me hoped it hadn’t worked again, that it was still there. In the subsequent days I could only think that I wanted it back. I felt regret, pain and shame. After the first abortion I had felt so relieved and now it was a complete 180. I felt burdened with a sense of condemnation from the Gods like they were done with me because I screwed with their Great Flow. Who knows what I’ve prevented from happening by ending this?

My partners mother called after he finally told her about the baby when he went to make that phone call the day of the abortion. She said basically she wanted us to have the baby and that I was welcome to stay with her if I needed a place to stay during the pregnancy. It was tragically sweet but she lives in [a different state]. It made me feel terrible. I could’ve had the baby. One of its family members wanted it to live. I feel like that’s how it’s supposed to be; That families to the unborn child meet and everyone puts in their vote because they’ll all have to help and if they’re willing then why not have the baby? I felt at that moment the weight of losing a family member, and it’s not just my baby. I feel like I’ve killed his sister’s nephew and his parent’s grandchild and his nephew’s cousin. It’s a weighty guilt and I feel like I owe them. I feel this is the worst crime I could’ve ever committed.

There have been several times in the last few months when it hits me that the baby is really truly gone forever and I can never go back. My drug use has increased, and sleep has decreased. I haven’t come to terms with the fact that I’ll never feel her kick, won’t know the real sex, I won’t see its inevitably light brown beautiful skin or dark curly hair or dark eyes.  I will never hold it or feed it. And I will never see if she got his flat or my arched feet. These things are treasures to me but they seem like selfish thoughts.

The second and final abortion happened June 6, 2009. The baby was probably less than a month along. I keep my struggle within. I think about it everyday in almost everything I do. I would be four months at the time I’m done writing this. I have much to be grateful for but there’s a cloud over everything because I don’t have my baby. I could have waited more than a week to make the decision. I am dealing with Post Abortion Stress. The wolves have made a home in my heart and they’re clawing up the carpet. I found a lot of information I didn’t really know about until even days ago and I’m angry no one encouraged me to look into it.

Mine is an ongoing story just like everyone else and I am working to heal in a healthy way. I know there’s got to be light at the end of the tunnel and I my feelings of this experience will evolve with me. There’s much more to say but I’ve written a novel already so I’ll quit here.

Thanks,
B.