display | more...

You can't even imagine what it's like to have a life inside you until you do. Your body becomes this warm, calm incubator and you feel that little possibility growing inside you. You feel that spirit, no matter if it is just a tiny mass of blood and tissue, growing and becoming human. When I focused on that tiny mass, I never felt so beautiful, spiritual and at peace with the world. My body was so happy. It was fulfilling it's biological destiny. I felt so complete. I also felt so torn.

I could practically feel another pulse of life on my wrist as I layed in bed, contemplating the creature inside me that made me so thirsty, so nitpicky with everything I ate, so full in my heart and so very sorrowful because I knew I could not have her. I barely made enough money to support myself and I didn't even know who the father was, because I had sex with more than one man without protection. I am allergic to condoms, birth control gives me severe mood swings. I was using a very loosely defined method of the rhythm method. I knew both men well and they had both been tested for AIDS. I knew their sexual histories. But I had not wanted this to lead to her, my child that I loved because she was a part of me. I had not wanted my choices to lead to inviting her to come and stay with me.

The day arrived. My boyfriend- who said he would be there for me and all I had to do was call- had completely ignored me and decided that my having sex with someone while I was broken up with him- was the same as if I hadcheated on him. Luckily, my sister was there. Bill, the other man, was faithfully by my side through the entire thing. I was so blessed to have them be there for me. My friends were also so supportive and understanding. I had grown up hearing scary stories about abortions and what happens to the fetus and your body. Needless to say, even though I had heard they were safe, I was still a bit wary as I sat in the waiting room. . .

An hour or so later I had given my consent, changed into a hospital gown, had a shot injected into my arm (to prevent any reactions with a dissimilar blood type should I become pregnant again), and was laying on a steel medical table ready to go under. The anesthesiologist- who had an older, grandpa-like presence- held my hand, as the nurse administered some liquid into my veins. "You'll be just fine," he said, "I'm the hand-holder here," he said with a wink. I felt a burning sensation in my arm, everything went fuzzy.

The next thing I remember is that I woke up semi-upright on a medical bed, in a room with other women in the same position, in the same circumstance. I was still groggy and asked the nurse, "Can I see it?" This must have shocked her! I had meant the actual blood and tissue. Ahead of time, I thought that maybe I would be better able to deal with the abortion if I was able to see the results of it. I explained this to her and she told me that they shipped off the blood and tissue to test it and find out if it was an ovarian cyst.

A few slightly incoherent conversations later (with the other abortion patients-one woman had told me she that had been 8 months pregnant (she meant 8 weeks)!), I was back in the waiting room. I was fine. I had thought there would be severe pain afterwards. They had warned me about cramping and gave me pain pills to take should it happen. I was just fine.

But I will miss my little one. I still think about her, or him (I had a feeling that it was a she, but who knows). I still wonder if her spirit is off somewhere searching for another mother, if she left permanently with the abortion, if she will come back to me when I am prepared to provide her all the love and support she could ever dream of. It was not an easy decision to say goodbye to something so promising and with such a will to grow and be alive. But I know that I made the best decision that I could, considering that I could not have taken care of her. I know that next time this happens, I will embrace this life and I will be ready to go through 9 months and the rest of my life of taking care of this child. Goodbye, my little one. Maybe we'll meet again. . .

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.