I posted this here, two years ago. I've been so sad over Dr. Tiller, as I remembered the kind physician and staff who were there for me. I just needed to post it again, because physician's like Dr. Tiller are so needed. Because without them, no matter what the law states, we don't truly have choice. And our daughters will suffer.
Although I support most discussion here on Women’s Choice – I have been hesitant to share my own abortion story. I was not a teenager, my life was not in danger, I was not a single mom, or in dire financial straits. Women who chose to terminate their pregnancies for those reasons elicit compassionate responses and empathy for the situation that brought about such a difficult choice. My abortion story is not one that will have you clutching at your chest. Quite simply, there was no reason for me to seek a termination but my sincere wish to not be pregnant.
My first pregnancy took me by surprise; I was twenty-two and single. What led me to carry this child to term was how I unconsciously inhaled with wonder and awe at the blue line I saw on the stick. I was pregnant. My initial thrill at my physical state was what my mind kept coming back to when I told the father, and he made it clear that he did not want me to give birth to this baby. “I’ve made my decision”, I told him, “your decision will now be – will you financially or emotionally support this child. I am giving you an out – but when you come to me with your answer, there are no take-backs.” He chose to be a father to my daughter – we married after she was born. While using birth control, I got pregnant again – and again we faced a decision – easier this time. Yes, it would be tough, but we brought my son into this world.
We divorced a few years later – and I married my current husband. Together, we decided to have a third child – my second son – my first “tried-for” pregnancy. It was wonderful – although I thought I would be a bit jaded by motherhood already – when I heard his echo-ey heartbeat for the first time on the doppler, I unexpectedly burst into tears of joy.
Financially, I was able to be a stay-at-home mom to three great kids. PTA boards, Girl Scout Leader, classroom volunteer… I did it all with happiness. They grew up in a decent home with a yard and lots of love and friends.
Time passed and the littlest is well into grade school and my oldest a teenager. One day, I found myself thinking, as a man checked out my sixteen year-old – “the torch has been passed, it’s their turn now.” I felt a great peace. I began to say ‘No’ to a few volunteer assignments and sought part-time work. The extra money was a nice boon for my kids – extra classes or lessons, and I found a part of myself that I had forgotten about. Life was good. My letting go had begun.
We used birth control without exception. Then, several months ago, I began taking short naps – quite odd for me. There was intermittent nausea. Panic began somewhere deep within me – a kind I have never felt before. The blue line nearly caused me to vomit. I just sat there in my bathroom, the cold tile bruising my knees, and randomly flushed the toilet. Watching the water swirl away made me dizzy, but I couldn’t stop – because it kept me from crying.
My husband and I sat down – and I told him that I was pregnant. I kept my face blank, and watched him intently. His reaction was so very important to me. He exhaled and looked at me. “Do you want to have another baby?” he asked.
“I don’t know”, I lied. We agreed to sleep on it.
The next day, I took a trip to Target and wandered down their baby isle. Soft blankets and onesies felt like chains wrapping around me, decades of more giving when I didn’t have any more to give, to sacrifice. After dinner, my husband told me that he loved me and would fully support any decision I made. I told him that I wanted to have an abortion. It came out much easier than I thought it would. “Okay.” He said. He was pleased.
The clinic had no protestors outside. The waiting room was full of people – but it was nice – I did not feel alone, so many others needed the service this staff caringly offered. They were very considerate and gently offered alternatives if I was interested. I was not. They discussed birth control after the termination. I felt a tiny wave of thanks wash through my soul – secure in the knowledge that my daughter and I lived in this time in this country. I felt great love for my husband as he paid with a credit card – a traceable transaction – not shame-filled cash. The doctor had a soft Southern accent and kind eyes and hands. I left tired, and wondered if I would regret what I had just done.
The physical healing was quick, but something nagged at me.
Guilt.
It was small pangs of guilt.
But the guilt I felt was that heaped on me by society, not at all internal. The guilt I felt was because I was not tormented by my abortion. I was not haunted by it, and one some level, I suppose I felt that I should be – that my abortion was somehow not justified or allowed because it was not a wrenching decision for me.
I will always treasure the memories of quiet moments spent nursing my three children, of toothless grins and birthday parties. I still love being a mom to my kids, watching them change and grow into the adulthood. I just didn’t have any more to give. I couldn’t start over. Not again. Every part of my mind knew that – from the moment I became pregnant, I think.
I trusted my gut the first time I saw a blue line, and again when it caused a very different, but still visceral reaction.
Last night, my husband and I celebrated our wedding anniversary, and he said over coffee, “the other day I saw a baby, and thought, wouldn’t it be nice.” It didn’t hurt. Not at all. I smiled a little and said, “Well, you almost had another baby right now, you know” and counted on my fingers for the first time how old he or she would have been if I had chosen to bring that pregnancy to term. We both shook our heads no and laughed. There was no pain. No guilt. It was over, and I felt ready to share – no matter how I was judged. Think of me what you will. I am a complete person who made the decision that was right for me. And I don’t feel guilt, because it was my body, 9 months and then 18 years of my life, and I made my decision.
Bless all of you women and men in all of your decisions. I know I made the right one. Only you can know what the right one is for you in the stage of your life that you are in.
If it moves you to, you may want to consider stopping over at
Medical Students for Choice, in honor of Dr. George Tiller. We must lift up a new generation of doctors who are willing and able to provide reproductive healthcare to women.
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