abortion
So, I have had an abortion before. And another. And another.
As I've joked before, I sneeze and I get pregnant. My mother told me she was extremely fertile as well. I should have known.
I remember one of the times I got pregnant. I was away from my then boyfriend for the summer and went off the pill because we just weren't around each other and one less hassle to deal with when it didn't even matter. Well then, the reunion came and I remember the time to the detail. It was the one and only time we had sex between that summer away and before we broke up shortly after. It was one time. It was a quickie (not even worth all the trouble it caused), and I remember looking at myself in the mirror and adding up the dates and thinking "oh shit" and hoping it wouldn't happen. And then it did.
Scared and ashamed I remember then finding a time that my mother was in the backyard or out of the house, taking the phone on it's long cord (we never had cordless in our house- just very long cords) and hiding in the pantry. I opened up the phone book and surprised my self with how few pages into the phone book you had to go to find the word abortion there staring back at you unassuming, yet so intimidating. I dialed the number and hung up because I thought I heard my mother. After a quick check and confirmation that I was yet alone with my task, I dialed the number again and whispered into the phone "um hello, I, um, need an abortion" feeling the weight of the task I was signing up for, yet extremely frightened if I didn't take the road I was embarking upon.
Trying to figure out a way to be ambiguous about where I was going to be after school the day of, getting caught on forging the absence note and telling my mother that despite her best intentions, I was too ashamed and humiliated to have gotten pregnant to want her help. And so I did it. Had to go to the welfare department just to get temporary assistance for this one stigmatized and horrific act (yes, pile on the shame). Had to confirm my ride home from the appointment (my mother), had to fill the prescriptions for afterwards, and then had to live the experience itself.
Sitting in the waiting room and looking at the family and support people waiting. Verifying ID's for myself and my mother because of potential activists and bomb threats. Having to sit in the waiting room taking the pain medication with all the other woman who were there for the same reason as myself. There was one woman who was going to get this done and then go back to work afterwards. There were some with children already and far too burdened or willing to have more. There were old, young, and me. All apprehensive, some small talk, some talk about the experience and expectation, and sharing of stories, but never the mention of the word itself. A nurse would call a name, the only moment of non-anomynity the whole day, and the room would shrink by one. The people were always the nicest people ever, knowing when to say the right thing and when not too. Offering support in many ways, never judging. I always thought, if I could do this and help others through a moment like this I would, but my experiences at the moment prevent me from being able to disassociate and be able to. And some fear as well. I fear too much shame and guilt from my own conscious and all the memories still alive would get in the way.
The walk down the hallway, a short walk, into a typical medical office room. Except the machine/monster in the corner. Unobtrusive, even unnoticeable outside of the circumstance. But yet there, serving as a reminder of what shall come, and all the implications of the act. The nice, yet impersonal and business like doctor in full getup, the super nice, caring, sensitive nurse who would make small talk, hold your hand, stroke your hair and be there for you from the first moment to the last. The unspeakable pain that you suffered through as penance for the act that got you into the situation and the act of the situation itself. And then as if traveling through a dark and scary tunnel at high speeds, the act would be over, the pain now bearable compared to what just happened, and then the hobbling down to the recovery room.
The last few woman from the waiting room before you laying down on their own cots, not relaxing, holding their stomachs, trying to buck up for the recovery ahead and regain their normalcy from before this whole pregnancy and abortion thing.
Having to lie and call it the flu didn't fly past my then best friend, although she suspected what happened, she never fully said it, and I didn't offer it up to her. Perhaps this was the division between us, or maybe it was the fact that we were too radically different souls that perhaps had just local in common. Whatever it was, the stigma of being in high school, having gotten pregnant and then having an abortion because I knew I didn't want to have a child, all the most corrosive things to my self esteem, image and confidence.
I would like to think that I have moved past this, and am now finally a strong enough person to say, yes, I've had an abortion (or more), and I did what I did. It wasn't fun and games, it took a lot out of me at the time, and still now when I think of the time and turmoil of the experience. But you know, the only thought I ever had, is damn, with kids as cute as mine are now, those could have been some damn cute children. I don't regret the abortion(s), but I do regret not being as self confidant and sure of myself not to have sex until I was ready and knew what I wanted from sex. Then, it was more about doing the previously exclusive act and feeling like that was what you did in "adult" relationships. Besides, I knew all about it (thanks mom), so might as well have the experience to back it up.
Now, I just hope that I can teach Morgan (and in a different way the boys too), that sex isn't about anything more then the icing on the cake. Why have sex if you are not to enjoy it to it's fullest possibilities? Yes, I mean that you shouldn't be having sex if you don't orgasm, nor if you don't enjoy it any of the time. You must first know what you want (I could expand, but basically masturbate and find out what you like before you expect someone else to know it) before you go there.
In short, I still have a difficult time owning the fact that I have had abortions, and I haven't been open and honest with anyone about it yet except my sister, my husband, and myself. Perhaps more people will know now (if the few that I've shared with still read this sucker;D), and maybe even it will change the perception of me or alter relationships that i have with others, but what I really want is to be able to have the experience be part of me, not just in my head, but with others. If people want to know, or I discuss with someone the topic of abortion, I want to not feel shame, and sadness over the fact that I had abortions, I am glad that I did, and would like to not feel stigmatized over something that was not glorious, fun, or optional in my eyes, but something that has helped me become the person that I am today. I don't ever know if this day will come, but for now, this is me opening up beyond the small closed circle of people in the know and hopefully my little piece here will help people understand how I feel on abortion and why.
Whew, and now my chest does not feel lighter, but the weight has shifted into apprehension of what the power of my confession will hold and yield.
And by the way, I never think of the "what if" I aborted my three children that I have and love dearly now, nor the "what if" I had the one's that I did abort. I think instead that I could never be happier that things have turned out the way they have with the abortions and the children. They all were appropriate for the time and place and my state of mind, and I have no regrets.
signing off- karen :D
As I've joked before, I sneeze and I get pregnant. My mother told me she was extremely fertile as well. I should have known.
I remember one of the times I got pregnant. I was away from my then boyfriend for the summer and went off the pill because we just weren't around each other and one less hassle to deal with when it didn't even matter. Well then, the reunion came and I remember the time to the detail. It was the one and only time we had sex between that summer away and before we broke up shortly after. It was one time. It was a quickie (not even worth all the trouble it caused), and I remember looking at myself in the mirror and adding up the dates and thinking "oh shit" and hoping it wouldn't happen. And then it did.
Scared and ashamed I remember then finding a time that my mother was in the backyard or out of the house, taking the phone on it's long cord (we never had cordless in our house- just very long cords) and hiding in the pantry. I opened up the phone book and surprised my self with how few pages into the phone book you had to go to find the word abortion there staring back at you unassuming, yet so intimidating. I dialed the number and hung up because I thought I heard my mother. After a quick check and confirmation that I was yet alone with my task, I dialed the number again and whispered into the phone "um hello, I, um, need an abortion" feeling the weight of the task I was signing up for, yet extremely frightened if I didn't take the road I was embarking upon.
Trying to figure out a way to be ambiguous about where I was going to be after school the day of, getting caught on forging the absence note and telling my mother that despite her best intentions, I was too ashamed and humiliated to have gotten pregnant to want her help. And so I did it. Had to go to the welfare department just to get temporary assistance for this one stigmatized and horrific act (yes, pile on the shame). Had to confirm my ride home from the appointment (my mother), had to fill the prescriptions for afterwards, and then had to live the experience itself.
Sitting in the waiting room and looking at the family and support people waiting. Verifying ID's for myself and my mother because of potential activists and bomb threats. Having to sit in the waiting room taking the pain medication with all the other woman who were there for the same reason as myself. There was one woman who was going to get this done and then go back to work afterwards. There were some with children already and far too burdened or willing to have more. There were old, young, and me. All apprehensive, some small talk, some talk about the experience and expectation, and sharing of stories, but never the mention of the word itself. A nurse would call a name, the only moment of non-anomynity the whole day, and the room would shrink by one. The people were always the nicest people ever, knowing when to say the right thing and when not too. Offering support in many ways, never judging. I always thought, if I could do this and help others through a moment like this I would, but my experiences at the moment prevent me from being able to disassociate and be able to. And some fear as well. I fear too much shame and guilt from my own conscious and all the memories still alive would get in the way.
The walk down the hallway, a short walk, into a typical medical office room. Except the machine/monster in the corner. Unobtrusive, even unnoticeable outside of the circumstance. But yet there, serving as a reminder of what shall come, and all the implications of the act. The nice, yet impersonal and business like doctor in full getup, the super nice, caring, sensitive nurse who would make small talk, hold your hand, stroke your hair and be there for you from the first moment to the last. The unspeakable pain that you suffered through as penance for the act that got you into the situation and the act of the situation itself. And then as if traveling through a dark and scary tunnel at high speeds, the act would be over, the pain now bearable compared to what just happened, and then the hobbling down to the recovery room.
The last few woman from the waiting room before you laying down on their own cots, not relaxing, holding their stomachs, trying to buck up for the recovery ahead and regain their normalcy from before this whole pregnancy and abortion thing.
Having to lie and call it the flu didn't fly past my then best friend, although she suspected what happened, she never fully said it, and I didn't offer it up to her. Perhaps this was the division between us, or maybe it was the fact that we were too radically different souls that perhaps had just local in common. Whatever it was, the stigma of being in high school, having gotten pregnant and then having an abortion because I knew I didn't want to have a child, all the most corrosive things to my self esteem, image and confidence.
I would like to think that I have moved past this, and am now finally a strong enough person to say, yes, I've had an abortion (or more), and I did what I did. It wasn't fun and games, it took a lot out of me at the time, and still now when I think of the time and turmoil of the experience. But you know, the only thought I ever had, is damn, with kids as cute as mine are now, those could have been some damn cute children. I don't regret the abortion(s), but I do regret not being as self confidant and sure of myself not to have sex until I was ready and knew what I wanted from sex. Then, it was more about doing the previously exclusive act and feeling like that was what you did in "adult" relationships. Besides, I knew all about it (thanks mom), so might as well have the experience to back it up.
Now, I just hope that I can teach Morgan (and in a different way the boys too), that sex isn't about anything more then the icing on the cake. Why have sex if you are not to enjoy it to it's fullest possibilities? Yes, I mean that you shouldn't be having sex if you don't orgasm, nor if you don't enjoy it any of the time. You must first know what you want (I could expand, but basically masturbate and find out what you like before you expect someone else to know it) before you go there.
In short, I still have a difficult time owning the fact that I have had abortions, and I haven't been open and honest with anyone about it yet except my sister, my husband, and myself. Perhaps more people will know now (if the few that I've shared with still read this sucker;D), and maybe even it will change the perception of me or alter relationships that i have with others, but what I really want is to be able to have the experience be part of me, not just in my head, but with others. If people want to know, or I discuss with someone the topic of abortion, I want to not feel shame, and sadness over the fact that I had abortions, I am glad that I did, and would like to not feel stigmatized over something that was not glorious, fun, or optional in my eyes, but something that has helped me become the person that I am today. I don't ever know if this day will come, but for now, this is me opening up beyond the small closed circle of people in the know and hopefully my little piece here will help people understand how I feel on abortion and why.
Whew, and now my chest does not feel lighter, but the weight has shifted into apprehension of what the power of my confession will hold and yield.
And by the way, I never think of the "what if" I aborted my three children that I have and love dearly now, nor the "what if" I had the one's that I did abort. I think instead that I could never be happier that things have turned out the way they have with the abortions and the children. They all were appropriate for the time and place and my state of mind, and I have no regrets.
signing off- karen :D
posted by Karen at 12:02 AM
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