I would have given birth in January of 2018. The ‘would-be father’ and I are both born in January. I imagined celebrating one quiet birthday on a mutually agreed upon date in January. I pictured a boy. In my mind’s eye, he is obnoxiously bright, a head of loose curls, too much hair for his head, with an anxious nature. He is different from other kids, I can’t stand other kids. He is a fantasy, I made him up to cope with a painful reality.
The reality being, I am nineteen. The father, who I thought I loved, never intended to date me, love me, or see me outside the confines of his own sexual fulfilment. I knew this, even though I spent hours denying it, the hours I wasn’t spending locked in denial, were spent trying to plot how I could make him care about me. I tried to use my body, my kindness, anything I could to show him I was worthy of his humanity. It didn’t work. I didn’t check enough boxes. I am Godless. My family is broken and toxic. I don’t meet the criteria for decency.
On a lazy day in May I bought a pregnancy out of boredem. I expected a negative, we only had sex once the whole month. I saw myself being slightly disappointed by a negative result. I did not, in any way want to get pregnant, but negative would mean another day in my life, where I depressed, lonely, and hopeful for a future that was not going to happen. The stick turned positive faster than the box said it would, almost immediately after I peed on the stick. I didnt believe it. I figured I screwed up somehow. I ignored it, a few days went by period free. I bought a more expensive test. Positive again, almost immediately. I told my Dad I needed an abortion. He agreed, he wasn’t mad at all. He told me to set up an appoinment, and he would pay for it. I was not planning on telling the father. He told me in the past, he was prochoice but wouldn’t want his child aborted. I didn’t want to complicate our relationship any further. I would have the abortion without his knowledge.
Enter my Mother, she positvely unravelled in an alcoholic rage about my pregnancy. She wrote him this deeply inflamatory facebook message, and our realtionship would never recover. I still consider that to be one of the worst days of my life. He would never look at me the same way. I denied I was pregnant, citing my mother’s well documented insanity. I wish I had been honest. I wish we could have talked about the situation, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye, and I couldnt get the words out.
I was reconsidering the abortion, I was considering adoption. I wanted something good to come out of this garbage dump of a situation. My Dad insisted. I eventually bent to his will. I did not want to get rid of the only thing in my life that give me some kind of misguided hope, that my shaky, small body was capable of something meaningful.
The day of my abortion arrived, and our maid drove me to the abortion clinic. The whole thing took three hours. When the nurse did my ultrasound, I asked to see it. It was small and insignificant, I had to squint. It brought me back to reality, and made me realize that I was crying over something that didn’t know it existed. It didn’t care. It was not a person yet. I was fully sedated during the procedure. The maid picked me up. I hate this woman. She was self-centered, and an hour late picking me up. She talked about herself and made me run errands with her. I just wanted to cry and sleep. I wrote a letter to the child, I would have had, explaining why I wasn’t ready to be his mom. I apologized to him for not giving him a chance. I told him that he could inherit my depression and his life would have been painful, like mine is. The ‘would-be’ father and I eventually stopped seeing each other. He found someone who checked enough boxes. I do not regret having an abortion. I know I have opportunities to focus on myself, my career, and the person I wish to become. I know it was right for everyone involved but it doesn’t change the fact that some days, I wish I had someone who I could love unconditionally. I realize bringing a person into my world would have been cruel, hell, I don’t want to be in it.
