Three. I’ve had three.
Two were birth control failures and I wasn’t ready for, nor did I want, a child.
One was because I didn’t want to have a baby with an abusive, now ex-husband.
So-friends and family, now you know.
I’d have had the whole works yanked out at age 23, if the male docs would have *let* me.
“But what if your future husband wants kids?” “But what if you change your mind”
Always about the man….
Lately, in defense of folks with a uterus, I find myself having to discuss some private shit in the hopes that they’ll realize that NOTHING is so simple, so black and white.
So I’m bringing my past into the light of day, to maybe give some perspective, to open some minds.
And that’s not what’s happening. I’m getting blowback, shamed..
I did what I did, and I’m not sorry. I don’t mourn, I don’t think about how old they’d be now, I don’t wonder.
But-
I remember how hard it was to have to tell someone why I needed a ride to Madison, a three hour drive away from my town. I remember having to ask several people because most of my friends were angry or repulsed by my request for a lift to the clinic. I remember going alone, I remember hoping that my ex wouldn’t try to stop me, I remember how it all felt and how it looked as it was happening. I remember freezing up when anyone I loved touched me, and how I was (and maybe still am) terrified of getting pregnant, making most relationships pretty short lived for a long time.
Men will never understand that fear, because it doesn’t live with them, it doesn’t affect them. They don’t have to go through the procedure of making the appointment, getting there, and then the after care/aftermath of it all. I’m proud of taking control of my future, regardless of what my small town, or family thought of me.
