Survival of the forced abortion

by Bailey

October 9, 2020

My story is a little different, but I know there are many close to mine that need to know they’re doing the right thing.

A month after graduating high school, I ended up with a positive pregnancy test. I showed it to my (very abusive) boyfriend at the time and he didn’t even give me time to say anything before telling me what I was going to do about it. He told me I would be a single mother for the rest of my life and that nobody would want me, including him, if I decided to keep it.

So, I made the appointment. We lied to our parents about what we were doing that weekend and headed to the next state over (the state we lived in doesn’t provide abortions).

He didn’t even let us get a hotel. Didn’t let me spend the night after. I slept (what I could) in a pickup until 8am when the appointment was. I was checked in and brought for the ultrasound. I didn’t want to know the gender. I didn’t want to know if there was more than one. I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

They took me off by myself and asked me why I was doing it and I, somewhat lied, and said for my own health because of my severe back issues. I was put in the room with a few other girls, given the medication and told to relax. They took me back, and I was so terrified. The quick procedure seemed like a lifetime; I was scared and alone, no friends to confide in, no family to calm me. However, still to this day I can remember the faces and hands of those beautiful souls that held my hands and dried my tears before and after, and before sending me on my way. They asked me how I felt, made me feel comfortable, and reminded me that I wasn’t a monster.

On the drive home, I was yelled at for crying, yelled at for being in pain, and yelled at for having to pull over and throw up on the side of the highway because of pain,  emotions, pain meds, everything.

Six years later, I have no ties to that man. I don’t have to worry about telling my child their dad didn’t want us and left us. I still wonder what that child would have been, and I do tend to feel guilty. But I have an amazing support team that I never thought I would have. People that have stood up for me when his mother cornered me in a bar bathroom four years later to tell me I killed her grandchild. People that have picked me up off the ground to tell me they would love me no matter what and that they don’t blame me for any decision I made. And thanks to them, I can go on with my life without holding grudges against myself.

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