Society tells us that abortion is just another medical procedure. No different than having a mole removed, they'll tell you. Not a big deal, you just go in and get it done, you'll feel relieved afterward. However, the reality of abortion is far different than what they tell you. When you go to have an abortion, you walk in unsure but determined to get through this. Then you wait for your turn which feels like an eternity while all you can do is sit there and second guess yourself while desperately wishing they would just hurry up and get this over with. There are different procedures and different experiences; here is my horrific story of my abortion experience.
I was seventeen weeks pregnant when I woke up one morning and decided that I needed to end my pregnancy for the safety of myself and my son. (See that story here). I made the phone calls and everything seemed all too easy. I couldn't go to a clinic because I was so far along in my pregnancy so I went to a doctor in a city about a half hour away from where I lived. I waited in the front area for my appointment and looked around at the few ladies that we in there with me. One was very pregnant and obviously there for her prenatal check up, another was a little older, 40s maybe, then there was me. I was going to an OB GYN to kill my baby. "What is wrong with me?" I thought. I quickly dismissed all the thoughts and reminded myself that this had to be done. I told myself that I needed to just push all emotions down and do this.
Then my name was called. I pushed down all my fears and doubts and walked into the room. The first thing that the nurse did was an ultrasound. She explained that she had to verify how far along I was. The nurse asked me if I wanted to see the ultrasound or if I wanted her to turn the screen. I knew what I would see if I looked at that screen and I was already struggling to keep my emotions at bay so I asked her to turn the screen. I remember how sympathetic she was; she seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being. At the time I thought it was a sweet gesture, now I wonder why; I mean if it was such a simple thing and ok to do, why did she act like I should be sad?
After the ultrasound I saw the doctor. He was very nice and, like the nurse, very sympathetic. He must have asked me a million times if I was sure that this was what I wanted to do. When I assured him that it was, he explained what would happen to me. Funny, I didn't consider it then, but he never explained what would happen to my baby. He made a special point to not make any mention of the baby or even the pregnancy, just what would happen.
I will try to be as gentle as I can with this description, but I think that it is important for this information to be revealed. The first thing that had to be done was laminaria insertion. This would basically start labor for me. It would begin to open my cervix so that the doctor would be able to "empty my uterus". So as a lay there on a cold table, legs spread out and only a thin hospital type gown on, the doctor sat in front of me ready to insert the labor sticks (as I called them to try and find some kind of humor, it didn't work.) the doctor looks at me one more time and says "Are you sure you want to do this? Because if not, there is no going back after I do this." He had asked me that so many times and I couldn't understand why. It was almost as if all of Heaven was trying to get me to stop what I was doing. So once again, I pushed down every emotion in me and told him it was what I wanted.
After the labor sticks were inserted I was sent home to wait. I had to wait until the next day for the abortion. So I had twenty four hours to just sit and think about what I was doing. If I'm being totally honest, I really don't remember much about what I did for the rest of that day. Whatever it was, I just tried to keep my mind off of what was going on inside my body. Just as with any other labor, early pains weren't much. At first I didn't really feel anything at all. Then, later on that night it was just crampy. Ok, I thought, I deserved to have some pain, this wasn't exactly a nice thing that I was doing. Besides, it wasn't too bad, nothing I couldn't handle. It wasn't that bad yet, anyways.
I woke up that next morning ready to get this over with. It was very early in the morning and I have never been much for early mornings so my mind was not quite working yet; I was very thankful for that. We drove the half hour but this time we weren't going to the doctor's office, we were going to the hospital. When I went to check in I was horrified when I found out where I was to report; LABOR AND DELIVERY! "That can't be right!" I said. Ugh, how was I going to get through this, I thought.
When I arrived to the labor and delivery department I was put in a big room with a bunch of other women. They were all laboring and about to give birth to their children, while I was killing mine. But sadly, my story just keeps getting worse. In this room, I laid in labor for a long time. I watched as these other women were getting wheeled out to a delivery room ready to have their babies and begin their lives as a new mother while I laid in pain knowing my child was about to die. The labor became very hard, so hard, in fact that I was ready to push. I looked at my mom and told her that I was terrified that I was going to have to have this baby. I knew that it was only moments before I would be pushing; the pain was so intense I couldn't stand it, and I have a very high tolerance for pain.
Finally they came to get me. I remember being wheeled into the operating room. I looked around and there were so many people walking around the room, busily preparing to kill my child. I didn't know how it would happen, I didn't want to know. It would be years later that I found out the horror that my son experienced. After moving to the operating table I looked up and saw stirrups but they were hanging in the air, I'll never forget that because my mind pictured what my body would like during this procedure. Nothing about this was good, why was I doing this? Then a doctor sat by me and told me he wanted me to count backwards from ten. I remember saying "10... 9...8..." then I was out, and my child's life was over.
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