I have had two abortions. The first one was as a young college student and there was no question in my mind about what I wanted to do. I was relieved it was an option. I chose a medical abortion and did it at home. I bled for over a month after that, but the paperwork from the clinic said this was normal, so I didn’t say anything. Finally I felt so weak after 45 days that I went to them and they did a D&C the next day to complete the process. This was a big lesson in knowing my own body. I healed quickly after that. I’ve often wondered how my life would be different if I’d had that baby, but I’ve never wished for it. I paid for it with Medicare and the process of applying for funding in the name of “unborn” was surreal and eye opening for me. I was grateful to be in a state where everything was legal and covered.
My second abortion was 13 years later, and while I knew I wanted a child with my partner, I also knew I needed to finish grad school, and I couldn’t have a baby in the middle of that. We ended that one, and I felt the same liberation and relief at my options as I did the first time. This time I was in a state with protestors at the clinic, and the clinic had to give me a pamphlet with disturbing graphics, but otherwise all went smoothly. There was a brave wonderful woman who met me in the parking lot and talked calmly over the voices of the protestors. Again I had no doubts, but still it’s not nice to be shouted at. The following year I graduated and gave birth to my son.
Last year I had a miscarriage at 12 weeks, and the doctor needed to do a D&C to remove everything. While this wasn’t an abortion, it was far more traumatic than either of my abortions, I think mostly because it wasn’t a choice I’d made, but rather something that happened to me.
