Mine is a tindr story from Hell.
He was recently separated from his wife, though he didn’t tell me it was because he was a philandering POS. We had unprotected sex ONCE when I thought I was on the pill.
Unfortunately I was wrong: my gynecologist prescribed one that made me sick, and since I was already into my cycle they wouldn’t prescribe me any more of a different brand.
I was too afraid to tell him I was pregnant so I asked that he pay me back from money I lent him for surgery to have an ovarian cyst removed. He dragged his feet and eventually ghosted me; if I could post his name, I would.
The National Abortion Fund/Foundation provided $200, a Facebook friend donated $100, my mother reluctantly paid me $100 to trim the hedges because she couldn’t live with paying directly to have a potential grandchild flushed. The rest I collected from two measly paychecks from my job as a severely unpaid agency caregiver.
My friend K and her fiancé J took me in for a few days since the closest clinic was TWO HOURS AWAY from my hometown. She drove me on that sunny May morning and I was accosted by a young man who shoved pamphlets at me insisting that I change my mind. K told me later that they called her a bad friend for letting her “friend murder her baby”.
I met a handful of women that day, one I’m still in contact with. Our backgrounds were varied, but we all had one thing in common; we did not want (more) children and the American healthcare system does not count abortion as the routine procedure it truly is. If you think about it, it is simply the removal of rapidly multiplying, unwanted cells.
There was one story in particular that stood out to me: a woman accompanied her fourteen year old daughter who cling to her side. The “father”, upon hearing of the pregnancy purposefully had himself deported back to Mexico to escape the responsibility of his actions.
Women who were twelve weeks or further in had to have rods put in to expand their cervixes enough to allow extraction. Their pained expressions made me grateful I was merely nine weeks pregnant.
We encouraged each other, sharing our strength as each of us were gurneyed back into the surgery room.
I woke up groggy and nauseous. A nurse gave me Gatorade and crackers to settle my stomach. Someone walked me back to the waiting room where K had waited over FIVE HOURS for me.
I bled through pad after pad for days, to the point I wondered if I’d ever stop or if I’d simply bleed myself dry.
Since the abortion I have had a few scares, but remained on birth control. Only a few friends know about my experience and my most recent ex was accepting despite his objections to abortion. I can understand the subject would be unsettling for a father of two.
If I’m ever pregnant again I have a few back up plans, but the overall idea is that I cannot afford another abortion. I have friends as well as a former boss that would love to be parents no matter where the child came from.
