I got an abortion 3 hours after I found out I was pregnant.

by Anon

July 6, 2021

On May 25th, 2020, I woke up at 8 am and immediately took a pregnancy test. I had been on birth control for 3 years at that point, and my period was always on time. But by the morning of May 25th, my period was officially 7 days late. I thought I was just being paranoid, but figured there was no harm in peeing on a stick.

At 8:02 am I found out I was pregnant, and my heart sank.

I was 10 thousand dollars in debt, my state was 2 months into quarantine due to a global pandemic, a baby was the last thing I needed.

I woke my partner up at 8:05, told him to clock into work, and then said we needed to talk. He followed me into the bathroom where I showed him the blue plus.

I wasn’t sure if it was accurate, and I called my doctor’s office to see if I could come in for another pregnancy test. The nurse on the other end said that false positives were rare, and Congratulations! You’re pregnant! When would you like to come in for your first prenatal appointment?

We scheduled something for two weeks out, though I mostly did that because I didn’t know how to tell him that I wasn’t sure if I was going to keep it.

My brain knew that a baby would complicate things, and it would set me back. But my upbringing told me that having the baby was better than the alternative.

My partner and I spent the next hour talking. We were both working from home but this was important, and we needed to discuss what we wanted to do.

He admitted he wasn’t ready for a baby. A part of me agreed, and a part of me was disappointed, a part of me wanted him to want the baby. At the time, I thought it was because I had always wanted kids. But looking back, I understand that I was scared of how having an abortion would change me. How was I going to face my future children knowing I had aborted their sibling? What was my family going to think of me? What was I going to think about myself?

I had always been a big pro-choice advocate, but I never thought I’d ever have to face that decision.

At 9, I messaged my sister and she sent over a link and a number to a local abortion clinic. I called them, and asked if I could have a medical abortion.

The person on the other end of the line was professional and polite, but they handled the phone call with a sense of urgency that made me feel like they didn’t want me to change my decision.

“The doctor will only be here until noon,” they told me. “If you want to get this done, you need to be here by 11am.” The procedure would cost 500 dollars, and it was non refundable.

I was surprised when my voice didn’t crack when I said I would be there.

I messaged my manager at work. I said I had a non-COVID related medical emergency and needed the rest of the day off. He told me to feel better and I signed out of work and drove to the bank to withdraw the money.

I hesitated to step into my car to drive to the clinic, I hesitated to open the door to the office. I hesitated to hand the cash over and when the doctor told me I was 5 weeks pregnant, I almost changed my mind.

I had done an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy, and although the monitor was tilted away from me, I turned my head and looked at the screen. Was I doing the right thing?

I don’t remember much; but at some point I was sitting in his office and he was going over the details of the procedure. He told me I would need to take some pills with a name I couldn’t pronounce and let me know what would happen when I did.

Then he asked if I wanted to take the first set of pills at his office or if I preferred bringing them home with me to take them when I was ready.

Again, I hesitated. I knew that if given the chance, I would throw those pills away and never look back. I would take them with him as my witness, I said. I didn’t want to give myself the opportunity to change my mind.

He nodded and handed them over. Afterwards, he handed me the other pills I needed to take, told me to let them dissolve in my mouth and that shortly after they had fully dissolved, I would begin to bleed. He had warned me earlier that there was a possibility I would bleed for weeks, and I was okay with that. I saw it as punishment for what I was doing.

I scheduled a follow up appointment with him, then left the clinic.

I had kept my composure the entire time and didn’t start crying until I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

I don’t remember the drive home, but it was almost 1 by the time I made it back.

So far, I was 5 hours into my day and I had gone from pregnant to having an abortion and I hadn’t even eaten yet.

I held up mostly okay until the bleeding started. Then I spent the rest of the day crying, thinking that I would never be able to forgive myself. I questioned my identity, my goals, my dreams for the future. I questioned my relationship with my partner, wondered if we were right for each other.

I told my sister and my friends what happened and what was going on. For the days after, I tried to keep a line of communication open with them all, but after some time, I realised opening up to others was doing me more harm than good.

I needed to rely on myself to pull me out of the depression I ended up in. I needed to make sure that I was doing the things I wanted to do, not the things other people said would make me feel better. I relied on my partner to support me through it all, and after a rough patch, we pulled through together.

My friends all understood my need for space, even though I had never explicitly asked for it. And they respected and trusted me enough to know I was better.

Shortly after the anniversary of the abortion, my sister admitted that she was still hurt over what happened. She was hurt that I had cut her off without proper notice, and said I should have told her I needed space.

I had gone through the biggest loss of my life, and her confession made me feel like she thought my loss wasn’t as significant as her missing out on being my emotional crutch.

And so shortly after the anniversary that marked the loss of my first unborn child, I marked the loss of my sister.

I regret neither.

Because here I am a little over a year later in a much better place, expecting the birth of my first-born child.

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