#postabortion

You’ve been

a beautiful

and painful

mistake.

My tears

will poke 

and correct 

I know for some girls this day is a rough one. You start thinking about all the what if's and every time you see someone celebrating or see a kid hug their mom the emptiness in your heart seems more vast. But it can also be a nice holiday for you too. You've spend so much energy and effort already fighting yourself, your thoughts and trying to sort out exactly how you feel on a daily basis about the whole thing. If you want to celebrate, somewhere in the silence of your heart, as a way to comfort any maternal feelings your experience left, it's ok. You're allowed to. If you want to ignore the holiday all together, it's ok. You're allowed to. Always look out for yourself first. Always take care of you first. Stay strong. Be brave. Never give in to sadness. There are so many things to be happy about.

I came across a blog that very passionately points out that there isn’t enough people, books, blogs, experiences, etc shared about what we are going through and only a handful who can even help us with the grieving and healing process. When it comes to the topic of abortion it’s always divided into political stances. Or worse, in my opinion, its divided between religions hateful comments and seldom words of redemption. I don’t think there is enough focus on US, only our actions. No one seems to care about how we are, how we are affected. Not all experiences are the same. Not everyone feels like us, and its great! They have their own support system. Where is ours? I don’t have all the answers, but you can always count on me to listen to you. I made my peace. I feel I’ve finally healed. I’m not saying what worked for me will work for you. I’m just saying we can figure it out. Don’t give up. Don’t be discouraged. Our community might be small but we have each other. Who else can understand the pain and the desperate need for peace than us? We are a family =)

So we got done with our walk and we headed back. I wasn’t ready but I knew that there were times in life that you had to do things you weren’t ready for and still have to function. I was comatose in that moment, but still hanging on. I walked in the door thinking we were going to be the first people there and to my surprise 10 people had showed up since we walked away from the locked doors earlier that morning. Shit. I went to the front desk to give her my name for the appointment and started the process. So first I had to fill out all this paperwork. Like 6 pages worth. Saying what? I donno. I’m one of those OCD people that read everything I sign. But that day I just signed it….. didn’t read anything. I could’ve been signing myself into slavery; I was too numb to even check. And I turned it back in at the front desk.

 And then we waited......and waited. I looked around the room and saw a mix of people, black white, Latina. Different ages; the youngest I would learn was 14; she came in with her mom. It was an older lady too maybe in her 40s and she had her “man friend” accompany her. It was a couple of girls who were in there alone. They couldn’t drive afterwards. Who will pick them up? I felt so bad that they were coming by themselves. All socioeconomic levels as well. One lady looked like she was headed to her cooperate America job after her appointment, while the underage girl was wearing sweats may cause that's all she had. When I started to get deep in thought about what their stories maybe, I got lifted from my trance when they called my name. Great. I headed to the back thinking it was time and no. they had to conduct a consultation before the procedure.

 The consultation consisted of a pregnancy test and an ultrasound so they can tell the age of the fetus. And she confirmed that I was between 12 and 13 weeks based of the size of the fetus. Cool. She said that they check because sometimes ladies may not be pregnant or may have an ectopic pregnancy where they would have to redirect them to a specialist. But I had a fine healthy looking fetus. They asked if I wanted the picture, like the last sonogram I had but at the last place they moved around to see the baby and the picture I just now received looked like an old television set that lost the signal. Horrible picture but I kept it anyway.

So they also confirmed with me that I would be having an aspiration surgery procedure. They don’t call it an abortion. I get it but it freaked me out every time she said surgery. It’s scary. She said the process first starts by dilating the cervix and then I would be taken into the surgery room to be administered an anesthetic to make me sleep. Cool. Next. In order to dilate the cervix they would have to give me some pill.  And she would let me know when that would be.

 Back in the waiting room, the old couple was joking and laughing like we were at a barbecue. Like what was so funny? Why was she so happy? She was in conversation with another woman about how she can’t have another kid cause she’s already had 4. The guy that came with her was a guy that she had been kicking it with for a couple of weeks and she was getting a medical abortion. So she went to the back got the pill and I didn’t see her after that. The other lady in conversation had an equal number of abortions. She talked a lot. Like she mentioned her whole life story of being a victim of domestic violence. Getting pregnant by her abuser only to be beaten while pregnant so she got abortions and lied to say she lost the babies.

They called my name and a couple of others to go to this other waiting room where we would wait while our cervix was opening. The nurse gave me these two tiny pills and she said they I could take them whenever I got back to the waiting room. But if I took them, I couldn’t go back on my decision because my cervix would be open and it’s a whole other process to go back after that and could possibly put risk for the baby. Dang. At least I could think about it more.

 In the new waiting room, guest weren’t allowed so it was just me and the other ladies who were also escorted back. The 14 year old could have her mom with her cause she was underage. At this point she was crying pleading with her mom to go home but her mom was cursing her out saying this is what they are doing and it’s time to go. They both were very heavyset and they came to escort her to the back in a wheelchair. Her cries made me so sad. Some of my friends started having sex that young. I couldn’t even handle my shit at 23; I couldn’t imagine how she felt. Her cries got silent as they wheeled her behind another door. I didn’t have time to think about because they called my name.

  I told them I hadn’t even taken the pills yet and she said that they needed me to process my card information. I told them my boyfriend was paying for it so we went to the office where I met him there and he paid for it. I looked at him before I went back to the waiting room. Every day since I told him about me being pregnant he had just been looking tired, like exhausted. It weird cause he never sleeps, He would stay up all night working on school stuff, working on work stuff or playing video games but he always seemed to have energy. But I looked into him eyes which are a pretty shade of brown and saw exhaustion. It was weird. I can’t describe it. But every day since that moment he’s always looked different. It’s weird what we are going through right now. I knew once I saw him....I had to suck it up and be strong. I knew that in this moment he was my rock and I had to learn quickly to be his. I wondered where he got the money from. His best friend? His dad? maybe he had it stashed in savings.....these were the questions I asked myself as I found myself digesting those nasty ass pills so my cervix can dilate. Back in this small waiting room in the back. Why won’t this lady shut up?  I can barely understand what’s going on in my life and all I hear is story after story of how we all came to be at this same place on Friday, September 30th 2011.

They called my name. For real for real this time. I walked through the doors and it looked like an intensive care unit where everyone is in the same room only with curtains to separate each case. I had to change into those hospital gowns where the back is out. Like my ass is literally hanging out of this paper robe. And it was hella cold.  I sat on the hospital bed propped up as they explained the medicine in the IV they were about to administer. I’m not scared of needles, they don’t hurt that bad to me. But IVs are weird; the tape used for it to stay in place hurt more than the needle did. You know on TV, on the hospital show where they say count down from 10 and the person collapses on 10. I didn’t think that’s how it was in real life but. Yeah. Let’s just say I don’t remember 9.

 I really was knocked out cause as soon I woke up. I had no idea where I was or how I had gotten there. I was in a whole different room lying next to the 4 girls from the waiting room before. Apparently this is the observation room for weaning off the anesthesia.  I had to put on these depends type underwear until the nurse got my bag of clothes. I felt so weird. I felt lighter and light headed. Is my baby really not there anymore? I needed to go to the restroom. Conveniently the nurse brought my bags so I could get dressed at the same time. The bathroom was in between the procedure room and the recovery room. When I walked by, I could see these jars of fetuses. What do they do with them? Where do they go? I could feel my stomach getting in knots. I could feel my tear ducts start to swell so I made a B-line to the restroom.  I pulled off the underwear and saw light spotting, kinda like the 1st hour that your period starts only it was like I reminder that I really just did this. I started to panic in that tiny bathroom. I started to cry. I paged the nurse from the call button in the bathroom and asked was this normal. By this point I was distraught. I was ready to go. I got dressed and was ready for my ride.

I walked back towards the front waiting room and was stopped to tell me that we leave out the back. It was a back double gated door where once you left you couldn’t come back in. It was kinda demeaning to be kicked out that back. But hell, I didn’t want to go back. They gave me a few pain killers along with a prescription for more along with a prescription for antibiotics cause you take them so your system can level back out.  I don’t remember the car ride to my house. I probably cried. I only remember certain parts. I wish we had another viewpoint of this story. I do remember coming home. My parents were waiting. My parents were very comforting. I’m so blessed to have parents where I can tell them anything and not be ridiculed and feel ashamed. I was sad because I don’t think my boyfriend had that type of relationship with his parents.  At that point I don’t think he had told anyone. If it was up to him I think he would have buried it and never mention to anyone that it ever happened. Even though I was surrounded by people who loved me, I wanted to be by myself. So I went to my room in my parents’ home, crashed in my bed that I spent my high school nights crying over petty shit and actually cried my first real painful cry. I cried myself to sleep.