I’m sitting here writing this a little over two years after my abortion. It took me two years to be comfortable enough to even say those words to anyone outside of my very close-knit friend group. I was 19, dating my boyfriend at the time for about a month when we decided we could risk the unprotected sex. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? It was weeks later, about 8 weeks to be exact, and I felt off. I felt tired and nauseous and realized I hadn’t gotten my period which wasn’t uncommon for me but this time felt different. I even remember looking at myself in the mirror days before and gently rubbing my stomach as if there was something in there. And I guess intuition runs deep because a short time later, I sat alone and took test after test, staring at a positive plus sign that seemed so fake.
At the time I lived with family, my ex boyfriend was hours away with the National Guard at a drill weekend. We had only been together for a month. I almost didn’t want to tell him, I wanted to curl up in a ball, I wanted to tell him false alarm and then find a reason to never speak to him again. But I knew it would be okay, that he would be there for me, and he was. I told my best friend, took more tests, told my other best friend, cried, told my mother, who was and always will be my biggest supporter. I went to Planned Parenthood a week later, I was almost 10 weeks by that point and met all the requirements for the pill abortion. Everything after that initial blood draw felt like a blur, the doctors asking questions and giving me mountains of instructions I could barely keep up with. Again, I wanted to curl up into a ball. I wanted my mom, I wanted her to come back and sit with me and deal with the doctors like she always had my whole life. But I got through it. At the time my boyfriend and I both had living situations that weren’t ideal for this, I lived with family friends and he lived at home as well.
We ended up having to check into a hotel. A small hotel in my hometown. The two of us sat there alone for a while in silence, waiting for my mom and best friend to meet us there. Before they got there we decided to insert the pills when it was just us, I was told I needed to insert them vaginally rather than taking them orally. We did it alone, but together. It was a long night and an even longer two years after that. We were so in love this abortion seemed like nothing, we could get through anything as long as we stuck together. It became increasingly evident that was not the case. He wouldn’t talk about it with me, and I needed to talk about it so badly. But without him on the same page as me, I felt completely alone. I felt like I couldn’t talk about it, and when I did my friends would listen but it always seemed like I was annoying them or ruining the mood. I have never felt more alone, and I still feel that way every single day.
It’s been two years, the boyfriend is now an ex, the physical wounds have healed, the mental ones not so much. It took two years for me to find a safe space to talk about this and finally tell my whole story. I am more than just my abortion, I am more than the trauma I carry. I am strong and resilient and I can finally say that and believe it. I can finally shout my abortion!
