I found out I was pregnant this year in April, a week after my partner and I had broken up. My period has always been on time so the one time there was some delay, I assumed it was because of stress and I would eventually get it.
I waited for two weeks but nothing. I would get cramps, but not my period. I was also getting nauseous, my breasts were tender, and maybe I had some idea that I might be pregnant. I wanted to avoid the idea because I thought thinking about it too much might make it a reality and avoiding it might make it disappear altogether.
I was working, and I felt nauseous, and I threw up. I decided to take the rest of the day off. It was Friday, the 19th of April 2024. I returned home, ordered a pregnancy test kit online since I was too anxious to go to a store, and waited for it to arrive.
I ordered three pregnancy kits. I don’t know why.
I did the test, and it was positive. I read the test multiple times because I thought, what if I read it wrong?
It was positive. I told one of my friends about it because I was sure she could help and listen to me. I also texted my ex. He decided to come over to help because he knew I was anxious.
I felt so many emotions at that time. I was happy because I was pregnant, and I always wanted kids. I was sad because we had recently broken up. I was not financially stable enough to have a kid; neither was my mental health good. My parents would also stop talking to me or physically hurt me if I told them about this. I was scared and happy and anxious—everything at once.
I was pregnant.
Since it was the weekend, I read about my options, what I should be doing, and what to eat. I researched a lot.
I started taking multivitamins and folic acid tablets because they benefit the foetus. I stopped drinking caffeine. I started eating green leafy vegetables. I started going on long walks.
My cramps got worse, and it was advised that I should go for an ultrasound scan since they had some suspicion that it might be an ectopic pregnancy. It wasn’t. It was normal. Everything was fine. It was fine. My emotions were all over the place. I could not tell if I was feeling something or if I was hormonal.
After multiple conversations with my ex, I finally got an answer: if I decided to keep it, he would beg me not to, and if I still kept it, he would hate and resent me and the child.
After that, I think it was evident to me that no matter how much I wanted to keep it, I would have no support from him or my family, and I would be all on my own and have no resources to give the child a proper, happy, safe upbringing, the kind the child deserves. I decided to terminate.
The termination procedure was pretty straightforward. Take pills, eat proper food, you get contractions, you bleed, that’s that.
After that, everyone expects you to act normally. Move on.
Physically, I started feeling better in a week. Mentally and emotionally, I don’t know where I am. Some days are perfect, and some days, it is so painful that I can barely move. I never thought that emotional and mental pain could make me physically ill.
I started researching books I could read because I needed not to feel alone in this. Books helped.
I carry guilt with me every day. I have the what-ifs, the possibilities, and the hope of a future. I grieve, and I take the loss. I feel stuck or disappearing, and everyone is moving on. I am the one who can’t get over stuff, and I am annoying and sad all the time. It is difficult to shake off that feeling. Some days, I thought about self-harm because the pain was too much to deal with. I even turned towards alcohol. All of it to numb the pain. I felt ashamed talking to people about it. I felt that they judged me or thought that I was melodramatic. Sometimes, I want someone to sit with me, not asking questions and just letting me cry.
It’s challenging to reinforce in myself that I went through something traumatic and that I should be kind to myself. I am learning.
My due date was between 22nd and 24th December this year.
It breaks my heart. And I don’t know when will the pain stop.
