I had an abortion on February 28th, 2014. My boyfriend- the father- his name is Austin. This is my story.
I remember the feeling when I thought I was pregnant. It was so strange to think that it could be a possibility. I was sure my period was just late at first, but as time continued on, still no period and things started to get scary. The day that me and Austin decided to finally take the test, my family was at a party and nobody was home at his house. We walked to Rite Aid, got the test, went back to his house and waited until I could pee. Everything was a blur until the moment that I entered the bathroom to take it. Immediately it showed up a bright blue positive. Honestly, Austin and I were almost kind of happy. In that moment, it was a feeling of joy, that there was something inside of me growing that came about both of our DNA.
The next day, we told my parents and told them we were still making a decision. As time went on, we grew attached to our little creation. The fact that everything I ate, every breath I took, every time I felt sick in the morning was attached to this baby was putting us in kind of an awe struck state. We would go back and forth with our decision, being swayed by many people to get the abortion. The feeling was bittersweet for me. I knew there was no decision that would be the right decision.
I keep thinking about the night that Austin and I went up to the bathroom and we brainstormed in a notebook. We talked over names- Alexander for a boy, Scarlet or Olivia for a girl. We were excited, even though deep down I kind of knew this wasn’t going to happen. I was covering up the pain of getting my baby taken away from me with obsessive preparations. I would look at baby stuff online when nobody was around, and do extensive research on every aspect possible.
Eventually, coercion went far enough that I made a promise. And from the time I promised my mother- I regretted it. I put my blinders and autopilot on and faced the fact that I was going to have to go through with this. Realistically, we couldn’t keep the baby. It was a horrible feeling. I had started to wish this never happened even more than I did the second the test came up positive.
I got up at 6:30 in the morning, knowing what day it was and what was going to happen to me in a few hours. I was in a surprisingly good mood for the morning. Me, my dad and Austin ate breakfast together, and then off we were. Seeing the Planned Parenthood building was terrifying and my stomach was turning. We went inside (my mother, my daddy, Austin and I) to the waiting room and filled out paperwork. And before I knew it the nurse called my name and me and my mom went back with a very nice nurse. She just went over what would happen during the procedure and beforehand and then sent me to take a urine test. I did that, and went to sit in a chair in what seemed like a pitch black hallway. Everything seemed so dark that day. 15 minutes later another nurse called me into a different room where I would get my ultrasound. She told me to undress and lay on the table and she’d be right back. So I did.
“Okay. This is going to be a different ultrasound than usual. It’s a probe and it will go inside you, quick and easy. Do you want to know how far along you are, how many there are and do you want to see it?”
I nodded reluctantly with I’m sure a wide eyed, terrified face on. I was scared at that point, knowing I was about to see our baby. So she did it, told me I was 8 weeks and 4 days and turned the screen to me after she printed it. She told me to take my time and that I could get dressed now as she left me alone. Tears rolled down my face and I felt paralyzed, even as I stood up from the table. I was literally unable to hold myself up and dropped down to my knees to cry. I held my tummy and told it I was sorry and said a quiet goodbye, repeating that “Daddy and I love you…”
I put my pants back on and left the room grudgingly.
Next was a tiny blood test, which was normal. I’m used to those. They then took me into the recovery room and sat me down. A different nurse named Barb sat with me and asked me questions like “Did anybody influence or force your decision?” and other similar things. She went over my health history and gave me 3 huge pills with ginger ale and sent me back into the waiting room to see my parents and Austin before I went into the procedure. As I sat a little longer, I started to feel kind of sick. A combination of an empty stomach, a crowded waiting room and pure terror.
My mom took me outside to get some fresh air, which didn’t last long because there was a protester outside and also because my dad came running out. They were ready for me. I went in and the hallway to the room seemed like 10 miles long. The longer the pills sat in my stomach and the closer I got to the room, the sicker I felt. I met the doctor. He was a short, emotionless old man. After undressing, he directed me to get onto the table where he gave me a pelvic exam. Awkward. I proceeded to ask for a trashcan and the nurse rushed me one and I threw up for a good five minutes. She told me it was normal and held my hair back, trying to comfort me. I really just wanted to run away. I thought about everyone in the waiting room and put my blinders back on and allowed it to start. It was beginning. He began stretching my cervix and it felt like he was tearing me in half vertically from my cervix with a cold metal instrument. I cried and tensed up and the nurse just told me to relax and that it’s important to try not to tense my body. I didn’t say one word. I just allowed it to happen silently, gripping the table and crying hysterically. He told me he was going to inject the Novocain and he did. A long needle injected into my cervix followed by a clamp. The pain was almost unbearable.
I heard the motor of the machine and then started to cry harder. It’s happening. It’s about to happen. I said goodbye one more time before I heard the suction. I felt the pull, I can’t explain what it felt like physically, but I was broken at that point. I heard every limb go through the tube, the sound of each individual piece, like when you accidentally suck up a penny vacuuming your carpet. It was horrible. I cried violently through the entire thing.
“You’re done, honey.”
Those were the only words I actually heard from the nurses mouth after all the babbling she did to try and calm me down during. She asked me to look in the other direction, because she was going to uncover the container and take it to wherever it goes. So I gladly whipped my head around, which caused me to have to throw up again. I finished vomiting, helped the nurse clean up the blood and dressed myself, and was taken to the recovery room. Everything was spinning and blurry and confusing. I just remember being handed a heating pad and seeing my mom come in from the waiting room. We both began to cry when we met each other’s eyes and I begged her to get me out of there after throwing up again in the bathroom. 20 minutes later, we were out and I saw my dad and Austin.
Only Austin can describe how he felt when he saw my face, but I felt like I had a cannon shot through my chest. I came in happy, full and pregnant and left empty, sick and defeated. Broken.
My mom lied. She didn’t want me to get the abortion. But I did because I felt like I had to.
I wish none of this ever happened. Why can’t I go back? Why can’t I just take it back? Austin is my safe zone. He’s the only one who is closest to understanding what I went through that day and he does understand how it feels to lose your baby.
Now I cry more than I can even breathe.
Why?? Why did you do this to your baby?? Why?? It was your responsibility to protect your child’s life and you exposed him or her to one of the most depraved human beings on this planet – an abortionist. That ‘short, emotionless old man’ ripped your child to pieces WHILE STILL ALIVE and YOU LET IT HAPPEN. You literally spread your legs and gave him full access to your living child. Why did you so easily let others convince you that your own living son or daughter should be brutally slaughtered?
This is what Alexander or Scarlet looked like before your abortionist had his way with them. And this is what your son or daughter looked like after he finished up…
This child was also eight weeks old, the same age your baby was when you let Planned Parenthood destroy them.
Let me be CLEAR. Your story HURTS people who value human life. I am physically SICK and DISGUSTED by the play-by-play review of your child’s slaughter. You killed a beautiful living human being and now we will never know the joy of his or her presence among us. Sharing your horrific experience with the world will never change what you have done, no matter how many people like the ones who talked you into killing your baby pat you on the back and tell you how ‘strong’ you are. It’s a LIE. It doesn’t take strength or courage to kill a defenseless unborn child. It only takes cowardice and selfishness.
You clearly still believe that mothers should kill their children based on your comments above and from other posts you have made…
“People need to leave other people’s decisions to THEM. Thats why its THEIR decision.”
“She didn’t want me to get the abortion. But I did because I felt like I had to.”
But it’s not too late to change your dark heart. The only path to redemption and recovery for what you have done is to begin to fight like hell for the lives of other children scheduled to face that same depraved old man. Don’t let any more children die like you let your child die. Turn your back on the cruelty of human abortion and take a stand for life. You owe at least that to your once living son or daughter.
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