My abortion made it so I was able to be there for my little family, hopefully for many more years to come.
I am a pretty typical Midwestern mom. I’m in my late 30s. I have a son who is 10. I’m happily married and financially stable with a good job and a home. We had been trying to get pregnant for a while, and we were elated when the test finally turned up positive.
And then I was admitted to the emergency room.
I had been terribly sick all day. My head started aching—a splitting, awful pain I’d never felt before. My face was going numb on and off. My hands and feet were tingling and I could barely stand. When I got to the ER, my blood pressure was 210/130. I was 8 weeks pregnant, and already showing signs of dangerous predisposition to pre-eclampsia, which the doctors told me would only get more severe as the pregnancy progressed. I was healthy, exercised and ate well, and had none of these issues with my first pregnancy.
The doctors began to discuss the warning signs of a stroke and what to do if one happened.
I thought of my son. Of my husband. Yes, the pregnancy was wanted, but could I leave them without a mother? A wife? What kind of damage would that do to my child? Didn’t I want to watch him grow up? This was preventable. The answer was clear what had to happen.
The next week my husband waited for me for hours at the clinic while I had a surgical abortion. The doctor was wonderful and understanding. I was loopy on anesthesia, and the nurses held my hands. I couldn’t have asked for a more caring, compassionate staff of people.
I went home with my husband. He took care of me while I recovered. We had dinner in bed and watched TV. We wanted the pregnancy, yes, but I chose my own life—a life that already had people depending on it. People who needed me. But also importantly, a life that pregnancy had a good chance of ending.
I wasn’t done living yet. And that’s okay.
My abortion made it so I was able to be there for my little family, hopefully for many more years to come. I’m thankful for it every day.
