My choice

by Anonymous

October 9, 2020

It was 2016. I lived in a very conservative town in Northern California. On my commute to work, I drove by a field of white crosses symbolizing the number of abortions performed daily in the USA. Everyday. I was on birth control but it failed and I became pregnant. I knew right away, before I even took the test. My body didn’t feel right, didn’t feel like mine. I’ve never wanted kids, it’s not my plan and the decision was an obvious one for me. The hard part was finding a legitimate clinic that could help me without making me feel guilty or trying to change my mind. I did my research and found the one clinic in my area that was run by women, for women. I stood in the bathroom of a cafe which had the 10 commandments hung proudly on the wall as I scheduled my abortion. I had no one to turn to for support besides my wonderful partner. My family and friends are pro-choice in theory but I felt that they would be upset if they knew what I was doing. So I stayed silent.

I was in excruciating pain the entire time leading up to the appointment. Physically it felt like my body was being torn apart from the inside. Emotionally it felt as if my body was no longer mine and I struggled with that in a big way. The month leading up to my appointment I worked 7 days a week, 10-12 hours a day while quietly suffering through the physical pain and the emotional burden of hiding my reality. The day finally came and I worked until 30 minutes before my appointment. I got to the women’s clinic and it felt freeing to finally be able to talk about what was happening to me and the decision I made without fear of judgement. Everyone was so kind. The nurse complimented my filthy, worn out work boots. She held my hand and made me laugh the whole time. I felt so supported by these women that I didn’t even know. I felt better immediately. I felt home in my body again.

I want so badly to scream my abortion from the rooftops…to tell my mom..tell my best friend. To talk to  them about what I went through. To show them that it’s a decision that I made that didn’t make me, that I’m still the same me. To tell them that I’m not ashamed. But I don’t. Because I’m scared they will be disappointed. So I’m putting it here.

Remember that our stories are ours to tell. We’d love to hear your story too!