The Most Difficult Decision (Nonfiction)
**************** My Abortion *******************
It’s February, 2014 and I’m 25yrs old. I just found out that I am pregnant. Approximately 9 weeks pregnant and absolutely terrified.
I didn’t know where to start or what to do. Instinctively I turned to my mother for support and guidance. Embarrassed, I have fallen pregnant with my ex-husbands child. Knowing all too well my current situation, financially, emotionally, having this baby was not an option.
Building up the courage, I arrived at the clinic and on my first visit there, I was informed that the only sister working in the abortions department was not in for that week. During that week delay, the thought of a second child was becoming a reality and the need to look after this tiny fetus growing inside me was becoming stronger.
The more beautiful the idea became, the negative reality of the situation out weighed everything and hatred set in. Anger for my ex-husband, not being able to support and look after our family, not then and not as it is now. Not fulfilling the want of a sibling for my son. Self - hatred for not being able to support myself and my “possibly” 2 children. I was overcome with guilt, fear and anxiety.
(1week later) It was a long day of waiting at the clinic. First they required a urine sample to confirm pregnancy. This also included TB & HIV testing. With the confirmation of pregnancy, tons of paper work drawn up and an unlimited supply of condoms handed to me, I was sent to a different sister for my sonar.
Another hour or so of waiting, I lay down and watched the screen as the sonar was being done. 10weeks and 6 days, said the sister. I lay there looking at my baby and reminisced back to my first pregnancy, it was at that moment that a part of me died, like excitement was taken away and replaced with unbearable guilt. Getting attached came so naturally but I had to force myself to stop. I swallowed the lump in my throat and took what felt like “The walk of shame” back to the sister that tested me.
What happened next is in no way something you can prepare yourself for. A social worker takes the time to educate you on your baby’s current developing stage, she explains all your options and basically talk’s you out of your decision to abort. Or at least makes sure you have exhausted all your options. It is apparent to me only now what she meant by, “there will be a weighing guilt you carry”. Your emotions are pulled into every direction and you are left with a simple reminder “It’s not too late to change your mind”
With a beating heart, movement and even the sucking of their tiny little thumb, of course I wanted this baby with a 100% of my heart, I completely broke down.
In my emotional break down, my stubborn and practical way of thinking pushed me towards the sister’s office to give my final decision of abortion.
With my decision made and the instructions that came with “6 pill’s” I was also recommended birth control called the “Lupe” Basically the best birth control to date as it works without fault for 10yrs and can safely be removed at any time if you wanted to fall pregnant again. This was the best news yet, I was filled with regret and hatred, I didn’t feel worthy of another chance when the miracle of conceiving a child is deprived from so many.
I took home the pill’s that would induce my labor. Miscarriage was in the palm of my hand. I had to start my first set of pills on at 16:00 hours, the next "2" would be taken at 22:00 hours and the last "2" at 06:00 hours. Have your bag packed and report to the hospital the very next day. I was told that I would feel slight contractions, bleeding and clotting. The fetus was to detach itself from the womb. All I experienced was slight spotting and some discomfort. Concerned about my lack of “showing”, I said goodbye to my son, leaving him with his father, looking back as I walked away. All the while, feeling as though it would be my last goodbye, like this was going to be the death of me.
At the hospital, another long wait as my file was opened. I could feel some swelling has started around my abdomen. Sitting in a crowded room, some woman are there for the same reasons I am, the other 60% are there, waiting in anticipation for the update on their long awaited bundle of joy. Glowing and smiling, longing to hold the precious being inside them, this was the most difficult part of waiting I experienced. My name was finally called and the anxiety rushed through my veins. I know the pills did not do what was expected and I hated not knowing what was next. I lay down for the sonar only to hear that the fetus was in tact and the doctor could do nothing if the process of miscarriage had not started from the medication. I was told that in rare cases this has happened and that another trial of 6 pills would do the trick.
Same steps were followed and bleeding did occur more rapidly in the second phase. Pain escalated and so did the emotional torture. On my second visit, another bag packed and my mind focused in on “D Day” my name was called by a male doctor in his mid 40’s. Some how he made me feel more comfortable, like he was more experienced. Feeling hopeful, I told him that there was more progress in the second phase than what I had originally experienced. It felt murderous and cruel to abbreviate in such a positive manner, something that was eating away at my soul when I was left alone with nothing but my thoughts.
He lay me down for the sonar. With the recent effects caused by the pills, the scan was not clear enough to see the fetus. He said that we would have to do the sonar from inside. Hearing that made me cringe as the pain was already overwhelming and the thought of something adding to that pressure made me unsure and scared. Making me feel as comfortable as possible, he inserted the object and tried to make out what was going on. With a sigh, one that had me suspicious, he told me to meet him in the office when I was dressed. His words were like a nightmare and a sigh of relief at the same time… The tablets have done absolutely nothing to the fetus and there is still a strong heart beat.
My 3rd and last phase of medication was prescribed, this time it included a big yellow tablet which is designed specifically to attack the cervix and then the 6 tablets which I was advised not to swallow but rather dissolve under my tongue.
Naturally, I’m an optimistic person but having lost all hope and faith I couldn’t help but question the doctor. “When this does not work, what would I have to go through next” He responded, “Impossible for it not to work”
My tablets were taken; I was an irritable mess and became incredibly numb to my emotions. Like a zombie, I just followed the same routine, having to go through it more regularly than one should have to. I started becoming more friendly with the staff, each one having a soft and kind approach, knowing the sensitivity of the complications I was experiencing and also the added fact that my blood type was a negative 0 - not to be mixed with the blood of the child I was carrying, reason enough to be awed upon as staff in training were called to “spot the difference” when my blood was tested. It was where I learned to keep a dead pan smile on my face so I could at least be an approachable person but feeling and care in general, it was lost at this point.
If I had gone through with the pregnancy, would things just have fallen into place? Worked itself out, as many say? Would it have been the turning point / the change my ex-husband needed to get himself out of the rut he was in? Or maybe the answer he yearned for, guidance I know he wants so badly, to be what his family needed him to be? I think he is so consumed with the fear of failure that he has forgotten how to succeed and lost himself along the way. With every year that passed, he took no step forward. I think he saw what was a path, fade before his eyes. When I no longer recognized him, I knew our time was done. I felt like I left him so that he could save himself. Was it tough love, sacrificing so that we didn’t ruin the respect that was left? Or do I find ways to cover up my reason’s for giving up? Just like I’m giving up on my unborn child? Am I so selfish? This is but just a fraction of thoughts and questions I have that will never be answered. The what if’s? I console myself with the idea that through future experiences I will have more of an understanding as to why I made the decisions I did.
At the hospital, waiting for my name to be called and going through another examination. The sonar shows that the fetus is in tact and only progress thus far was that my cervix had opened but barley enough to insert one finger. I sat there thinking about all the difficulties I had endured right from the start. All the delays, in finding a clinic, finding a sister on duty, a process that is supposed to take 3 days has turned into 3 weeks, if this was not a sign, even to the biggest disbeliever of fate and a greater force then it must have been my karma all wrapped in one. What ever the reason, I do believe it will have a huge impact on my life in the future, whether it be clarity on why it was the best option at the time or a lesson that might be devastating, it is inevitable and I will appreciate its greatness and find closure in something I put at the back of my mind. That was enough encouragement for me to do what I came here to do, I put my unborn child in a very unfair struggle and I need to put an end to this torture. My child’s understanding was not yet there and while I know there is a life inside me, my instincts kick in and give me the strength to do what must be done. For people that are not emotionally attached to a decision of this magnitude, they will never fully understand abortion, its human nature to dwell on facts we can comprehend. “The procedure”, the medical procedure is enough to make anyone uncomfortable, we are by nature not cruel and unkind but what we see is inhumane. No life will ever be more important than another but in a world that has become a struggle for survival of the fittest and you find that your time is worthwhile spent gazing upon your fellow contenders while they fighting their battles in an unforgiving world, I suggest a closer look into their lives and their reasoning should add depth to what you find so taboo. Cruelty is shaming a fellow being that is at a crossroads in their life while you find nothing in your own life important enough to pay any attention to.
I was assured that the abortion would commence but finding a doctor who would be willing to do the procedure on a patient that has rejected a total of 19 pills and entering the 12th week of pregnancy, the deadline for any abortion was another hurdle in this race against time. The hospital board had to give permission for the abortion to continue at such a late stage of pregnancy too. The bad some how got worse, I didn’t think it could get any more complicated than what it was. The doctor who agreed to help me said she will squeeze me in after seeing 3 other patients.
My self and the other ladies were given our robes, sent into a secluded part of the hospital and waited for the final procedure, the last stretch before it all ended. Absolutely nothing could compare to what I was about to go through, hell itself!
I was the last one to be called, 3.5 hour’s later. That’s 3 procedures and added time for cleaning and readying the ward for the next patient. I don’t know how long I was lying on that table, I know I didn’t hear screams and crying from the others, but what I was experiencing was a slow and incomprehensible pain, it was worse than the 6 hours I spent in labor with my son. What you can imagine abortion entails or maybe you have seen the graphic nature of the process surrounding abortion and how it’s done, I felt every single agonizing moment of it. It was at that moment I knew what regret was. No words can be put on paper to truly magnify the feeling and pain that I felt.
I was the only one that did not leave the hospital that day. I was in severe shock and never felt such an icy cold in my life. There were not enough blankets to take the cold away. By the next day, my blood pressure stabilized and I was told I can leave.
I walked out of hospital a different person that day. Do I regret my decision? I think I will always wish things could have been different, then - again who doesn’t feel that way at some point in their lives. I will not allow my decision to deprive me from what I originally envisioned, my ultimate reason for the most difficult decision I have ever made.
For ever in my memory, for ever in my heart, my baby.
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