My Body, My Choice – My Day At The Abortion Clinic

It’s 11:23 in the morning. I’m sitting in an uncomfortable office lounge chair, staring at a young couple across from me. She looks like she hasn’t got a care in the world, and he looks uncomfortable. I’m uncomfortable, all over. My mind is racing and it hasn’t stopped for days.

In the exactly two times that I have been pregnant I knew before I even peed on the stick. I could just feel it. I only took the tests for good measure and I only ever took a test when I already knew. This time I knew even more, because I knew what it felt like for a body to be in bake-mode. I was still breast-feeding my nine-month-old for goodness sake! I should’ve still been on maternity leave, but I went back to work early to help pay the bills.

Even though I knew I was pregnant, I still waited the wait, sitting on the toilet, making small talk with myself in my head. I could already see the second line forming and it wasn’t even a minute in. My heart sank as visions of screaming babies, disappointed family members and labor and delivery floated through my head.

I walked out of the bathroom, holding the stick, making sure the baby I just had was asleep and said “We’ve got a problem.”

Apparently I’m the most fertile woman on earth (thanks, Mom!) because I can count on one hand the amount of times we’d done the deed since the baby was born. I’d only JUST had my first post-partum cycle.

Facing the result, I couldn’t even be in denial because my heart was so heavy with how definitively real it all was.

Our son was only nine months old. We were still living in my in-laws basement, we’d JUST signed an agreement and began making payments towards our first house. The timing was so off it felt like I was falling backwards.

I didn’t know what to do, but I felt like I needed to explore my options. I knew what it was to have a newborn, be overwhelmed with emotion and to be exhausted all the time. I knew what the toll having a baby takes on a person, no matter how much you love them. I could only imagine what it’d be like to have two kids, so close in age, so much to handle.

I knew that I needed answers; all I had to do was make the call.

The lady on the other end of the line was sweet but reserved, like she didn’t want to make me feel like she was encouraging me one way or another. She answered my basic questions as if she’d rehearsed them in her bathroom mirror before bed, with compassion and expertise. I told my boss I had something I needed to get checked out at the doctor (technically that’s not a lie, right?) and took the next day off.

I kept weighing the pro’s and the con’s in my head, like when you’re trying to decide if you should quit your job or not. We were old enough; mature enough to handle it. We also had enough experience to know that one was more than we could handle, how would two even make sense? Would I be able to keep my job? I’d just started it only 3 months before, what were the chances my boss would think I was irresponsible and think less of me for it? That’s what it kept coming back to for me, I felt so irresponsible. I should have known better, I DID know better.

As I sat in the chair, waiting with trepidation for my name to be called, I thought about how long and hard women had fought for the right to do this. I thought about the statistics, about how many women have been in this exact same position before me. I thought about how lucky I was to even be afforded the right to make this decision for myself. I worried about a bomb going off in the waiting room for a brief second, and then remembered I didn’t live in the United States and I was in a safe place.

The exam was emotionally and physically intrusive, obviously. I answered a lot of questions, mostly about my health and my life. The women (nurse and doctor) in the room did what they could to make me feel comfortable, to reassure me that there was no right answer, no golden compass that would allow me to make best choice for me and my family.

I was brought into another room; I’d never had an internal sonogram before. The pregnancy was barely even started! They couldn’t tell exactly, but it looked to be around 4-5 weeks tops. It was still early enough to do the least invasive procedure. It wasn’t even a procedure, just a pill that would make me sick and would make this whole thing stop happening, if that’s what I wanted.

Since there was no rush, I took a few days to sort out my thoughts. This was the most emotional decision I’ve ever had to make, but somehow I had to make it logically. This is why it is such a hard decision, because emotion and logic don’t often meet, at least not until after the fact.

I had scheduled a follow-up appointment, where I’d be given my prescription. I thought about friends who’d gone through the same situation under different circumstances. I thought about what my future may hold with or without another human being involved. I thought about my job, my career, and my goals. I thought about the fact that only 25 short years before, my mother, 16 years old and probably even more terrified, had to make this exact same decision.

I thought about my son. I thought about the first time I found out I was pregnant, the stress and the worry and the nerves, many of the same feelings I was feeling again. I thought about his first smile, the way his eyes lit up, the way he had totally enveloped my life in the best way possible, but the hardest way, too. I thought about what was best for him, and what was best for us, as a family…

I called to let the clinic know I wouldn’t be coming in again and I thanked them for their help. I did what I always do and I faced the future head on, facing the challenge and deciding to make the best of what I’ve been given. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, nothing in my life has ever been anyway, so what would I be missing?

My second beautiful boy came into the world as fast and hard as he could, I literally had to hold him in. He is the yin to his brother’s yang and neither of them knows it any other way. I’m not going to lie; it isn’t always easy. I’m often tired and frustrated, but I’m proud of my choice. I know that everything is temporary, including life, so I may as well roll with the punches and see where it takes me.

I believe in the right to choose, my choice didn’t alter that belief. Every situation, person, and moment is different. Every reason, perception and thought holds its own weight. Where my decision ultimately turned out for the best, others might flounder and end up in far more tragic circumstances. Many of us have struggled with this choice; many of us have had to make it regardless. There is no right or wrong answer, only the hope that we are honest enough with ourselves to know what we are capable of, and what we’re not.

This week in the United States, the Supreme Court ruled that the State of Oklahoma is no longer allowed to restrict the right to a medical abortion. We’ve come so far in our journey towards reproductive rights and women’s equality, but there’s clearly still so much left to do. I wrote this for the women who felt like they never had a choice, or weren’t able to make the decision that they wanted. Thank you for reading.