It wasn’t hard for me to make my decision. If anything, I was more worried about what my husband would think. We’re recently married, still very much in the newlywed stage.
We had been through pregnancy before.
I found out I was pregnant back in October 2013 after my sister had started her period and I hadn’t. 6h I knew right away whenever I walked in from my internship with her lying there with a heating pad on her stomach that I was pregnant. I didn’t even finish making dinner for myself before I grabbed my purse and headed to the pharmacy. I came back, already knowing my answer (I’d never, ever been late) and my sister stood by my side as the two pink lines popped up. She started nervously laughing as I just stood there, staring, at the most irritating, happy pink lines I’d ever seen. After about an hour, the reality sunk in. With my (then) financé gone to tech school, I romanticized the entire ordeal. I was so happy about this little baby growing inside of me and I felt such a comfort knowing that when I laid down to sleep at night, I had a little ‘nugget’ inside me, with me always. I miscarried four days before Christmas.
Life goes on. The whole miscarriage experience was nothing less than traumatizing and sadly, a feeling of relief that I hadn’t expected to have. I had decided then and there that what had happened was a blessing in disguise. I wasn’t ready. My future husband wasn’t ready. We were just glad that it was out of the way, regardless of all of the medical bills we’d received from my hospital visits during that time. My husband still wanted a little one of our own but the reality of pregnancy had never been so clear. I didn’t want kids. I was going to avoid it at all costs.
But then my period didn’t come at Easter. Somehow I’d managed to talk myself down enough to wait a week before taking a test. Guess what? Those irritating pink lines were staring me in the face. I turned to my (now) husband and blatantly said: “I’m NOT doing this.” He stood there, silent. He knew my mind had been made up and any fight he had in him now would come back to haunt him. We talked about it. Then we tried not talking about it. It was the elephant in the room. I’d detached myself from this pregnancy and started researching abortion clinics right away. I’d been raised baptist. Pro-life no matter the emotional, financial costs… right? You never know what you’re capable of thinking or doing until you have to think about it or do it. I knew what was right for me. I’m in my early twenties, newly married and selfish. I’d decided I was in no shape to be a mother, regardless of all of the “good days” and “bad days” that comes with motherhood. I don’t want any part of it.
I’d found a clinic, made an appointment, was warned about the protesters and researched during the ENTIRETY of the two weeks I had before my appointment. At first I’d chosen medical – it seemed the most intimate of the two. The more I thought about it, the more horrid flashbacks I had of my miscarriage and the debilitating pain I was in during the first cramps and the hour I spent sitting on the toilet. I couldn’t do that again… and I wasn’t about to make my husband become that invested in a decision that was mostly my own. There were too many risks.
I chose on May 17th to have a surgical abortion instead. A one and done procedure. Considering the weight of the decision I’d made, the whole procedure only lasted five minutes and it saved the rest of my young adult life. I’m feeling great, no regrets whatsoever. I’m just looking forward to completely healing and being able to have my restrictions lifted. Having an abortion isn’t for everyone – make sure you think it through, please do your research and don’t be afraid to fight for yourself. I did and I’m glad.