This is not a blog about abortion, per se, but I try to make it a blog that is sometimes able to put faces and stories to political dialogue that floats so far from the surface of most people’s reality. Abortion is one topic for which that is particularly important; without real stories it is just a line of text on a bill that disempowers women to control their bodies, disempowers doctors from doing right by their patients, and replaces the complicated realities of imperfect birth control and sexuality with hyperbolic dogma. We need the stories.
So today, Robin has graciously shared hers. Remember, 1 in 3. You are not alone. If not your mother, sister, daughter, than your classmate, friend, or colleague. You can’t pretend it is those women, because it’s not; it’s everywoman. From Robin:
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I knew the moment it happened. This was spring break my freshman year in college. I was in a committed relationship with a long term boyfriend who I thought I would marry, Tom. When we noticed the failed choice of contraception, I immediately knew. I tried not to let my anxiety over the situation color my life while I waited the 4 long weeks to take a pregnancy test. I went back to college, went to class and went about my life, all the while with this knowledge plaguing me. The more I thought about it the more anxious I became.
Before knowing for sure, I made the decision that if I was pregnant I would have an abortion. I didn’t tell anyone that I thought I might be pregnant but I thought Tom might know. I asked him, if I were pregnant, would he want to know? He thought about it and said yes. When the day came, when I just couldn’t stand it any longer, I told my best friend what was going on and asked her to take me to the store to buy a pregnancy test. This was something I had never done before. Up until that moment, I had been super careful, never even having a scare. I bought the one that is supposed to tell you a week early. It came with 3 tests. We went back to the dorm and I took 2.
Both came back negative.
But I didn’t feel relieved. I still hadn’t gotten my period and I still had the weird sensation. A week went by and still, no period. So I took the last of the 3 tests.
And so I did what any freaked out girl would do. I went and bought more tests to make ABSOLUTELY SURE. I had done my research into a clinic. Those 4 weeks of anxious thought had brought about research into my options. I made an appointment first thing in the morning 3 weeks later. I then made the hardest phone call of my life; I called and told my mom. I didn’t have enough money and insurance wouldn’t cover it. She was really quiet and then asked me if I was ok, and if I was sure that this was what I wanted. Through tears I told her yes, it was. After telling me everything would be ok and that she loved me, she asked me if I wanted her to come. In the end, her own health issues prevented her from being there.
Then I called Tom. Another tearful conversation later, he told me he had guessed. I told him what my decision was and he agreed. Tom came with me to the clinic. We spent all day there. Initial visit including an ultrasound, a session with a psychiatrist, paperwork, blood work, etc. Everyone asking “is this what you want?” They came and got me from the packed waiting room about 6 hours after we arrived. I was awake for the whole procedure. I cried for the entirety while the nurse tried to get me to talk about anything else. It took all of 5 minutes. They put me in a recovery room with other women, all of us in recliners.
I remember the oddest things. They pointed out a speck on a monitor I was told was my baby. They had put covers on the lights in the procedure room that resembled blue sky and clouds and after the doctor gave me the meds, they seemed to move. The psychiatrist gave me a small yellow rock to keep. The brown leather recliner was heated for comfort. I remember a woman barely older than I who told me she had 4 other children at home and couldn’t afford another.
I left recovery and the clinic. I went home. And life went on. February 22 is a day that always makes me second guess, even now, 7 and a half years later.
But I know I made the right decision. I also know that were I to become pregnant today, I would choose to have the child. I am in a different place in my life. But that’s the point. It’s my choice to make.
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As a reminder, this is just one woman’s story. It’s not representative of anything except that reproductive rights are intensely personal.
Related Post: An abortion story from K.
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