Earlier this year, I experienced debilitating migraines. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely see straight. I missed class. I missed work. I was in never-ending distress. I’d wake up my boyfriend at the time crying because I was in so much pain. He’d get me ginger ale at 3:00 AM hoping it was just a stomachache. I didn’t know what was wrong with me.
I reached out to my mom about migraines because she used to get them when she was younger. She told me that migraines are hormonal and that I should see if I was pregnant. She didn’t pressure me to tell her or assume that was the reason, but she wanted me to rule that out as a possibility. I scoffed a little bit because there was no way I was pregnant. Even still, I bought a pregnancy test at City Co 10 minutes after my mom sent that text just to be sure.
I ran to the public bathroom in the freshman dorm and immediately took the test. The negative line began to appear and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then the positive line showed up and I audibly said, “FUCK!” I held my head in disbelief.
SURPRISE!
On February 17th, 2017, I found out I was pregnant. I was nearly a month along even though I didn’t know it at the time.
I panicked because I had gotten drunk the weekend before with my friends and potentially harmed my future child. I got goosebumps and chills on my arm, my stomach dropped into my uterus. I was actually pregnant. I was carrying a bundle of cells that could potentially become a little human. I was scared. I was nervous. I was confused. I was shocked. I was scheduled to get fertility tested later on that month. I had every reason to believe I could not get pregnant naturally.
People assume a girl like me wouldn’t be foolish enough to get pregnant. I’m smart. I know about and advocate for contraception. I’ve been sexually active for five years and never had a legitimate pregnancy scare or any issues with contraception. I took birth control faithfully. I never bought plan B. I got tested quarterly. I was a responsible adult. I was on the pill for three years until I learned of my fertility issues.
I was relieved by my pregnancy solely because it assured me that I’m fertile, but now I had to decide what to do with the thing that was growing inside of me. I always told myself that if I got pregnant before I was 23, I would get an abortion. I escorted a friend of mine to the clinic to get her procedure done and contacted her right away when I found out about my pregnancy. She suggested dropping my major and graduating early to raise my child. She said that although she didn’t regret her decision, she thinks she could have done it. Surprisingly, she said she didn’t think about it much anymore.
I didn’t want to sacrifice my young adult life for a child. I was damn near a child myself and too selfish to raise a human being. I like spending my money on clothes and experiences, not diapers and formula. Having an entire human being solely reliant on its father and me? It was a terrifying thought to consider. I couldn’t afford a child. I loved my boyfriend at the time and the thought of raising a child created out of love and raw emotion was intriguing, albeit imprudent. I didn’t know what the future of my relationship would be and I did not want to be a single parent if it ended (and it did). I did not want my children raised in a split household because I loathed coming from a split household. I didn’t want to be pregnant on my 21st birthday. I did not want to drop my second major in order to graduate early so I could be a mother. Journalism is dying; I needed my advertising major as a backup. I did not want my child’s father to sacrifice a true college experience to be a dad. I did not want to terminate my pregnancy and then never be able to get pregnant again. I. I. I. I. Selfish, right?
On the other hand, I wanted to see what my little baby would look like; I anticipated a curly haired chocolate drop with big brown eyes. I wanted to spoil it and buy it everything it wanted and needed, even if I struggled to do so. I wanted to challenge myself and see if I was really capable of being a full-time student and a mother. I came up with names for my little baby. I developed a plan for what we would do if I decided to keep it. I thought of all the family vacations we would go on and places we would see and the things we would do.
A child’s life isn’t meant to be an experiment. I knew that I was unable to give my child the life it deserved. I knew that the timing was horrible. I would have loved to be in a different predicament, but I wasn’t. My mom sacrificed her youth for me as a teen mom. I love and admire her for it, but I wasn’t able to do the same thing. And I am not ashamed to admit that.
I had to make three appointments: one to confirm the pregnancy, one to be advised of my options and get an ultrasound, and the final to have the procedure done. The ultrasound killed me because I saw it growing inside of me. It was just a yolk sack — still not viable outside of my womb, but traumatizing nonetheless because I knew the chances of me keeping it were unlikely. I was pregnant the entire month of February. I found out so early that my doctors were unable to do the abortion in a timelier manner because there wasn’t enough cell composition. The embryo wasn’t developed enough to even take anything out.
FYI — abortion isn’t murder. They literally couldn’t take whatever it was inside of me out because it wasn’t developed. How can you kill something that isn’t even alive? I’m not here to appease any abortion apologists so there’s my disclaimer.
On March 3rd, 2017, I got an abortion. I was 45 days pregnant. My best friend and boyfriend at the time escorted me to my procedure. I cried the entire car ride to my doctor’s office. I was anxious. I was petrified. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew I had to.
I think there’s this misconception that people who get abortions are murderers and evil, vile people. I know multiple people who have gotten abortions and none of us walked into the clinic excited to get an abortion. I experienced every emotion except happiness, sadness being the primary one. We are grieving a loss. Even though we chose this, it doesn’t mean that we don’t get to feel the emotions that come with loss. It’s hard. It sucks. It hurts. To me, feeling like that was better than raising a child in poverty or a broken home and ultimately why I decided to follow through with the abortion.
As unprepared as I was to have a child, deciding to terminate my pregnancy wasn’t an easy decision. I wish I knew these things before I got my abortion:
Many people would be there — My best friend called it “the sisterhood of the traveling abortions.” I walked into the back office to six separate, sectioned off areas. Each area had a girl getting an abortion. The doctors talked to each of us asking us demographic questions (I assume for statistics) and what birth control method we would use following the procedure. The conversations weren’t private. I heard everyone’s business.
I thought it would be a personal experience with myself, maybe a few nurses and a doctor or two. That wasn’t the case at all.
I would be awake — I felt the entire procedure. I was in and out of consciousness. I couldn’t be knocked out completely or else they would have had to hold me for a few hours after the procedure. They got us in and out as quickly as possible. I immediately vomited afterwards and could barely stand up. I was bleeding profusely and felt like absolute shit. My best friend had to hold me up because I physically could not stand, let alone walk with my own support. A few hours to get my life together would have been nice.
Everyone would forget about it — My friends were very supportive when I got my abortion and for that I am grateful. I love them and cherish them for what they did for me. From bringing me soup and crackers, to checking on me and keeping me company, they did a lot. However, I think the emotional effects of an abortion are long lasting. No one asks me about it anymore because it happened so long ago, but that doesn’t mean I forgot about it or that it doesn’t affect me anymore.
I stand by my decision. I made it with a clear conscious. I think about having a child now and I get sad. I could have done it. I would have struggled, but it was possible. I don’t like to be bogged down with regret so I don’t regret it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about how my life would be different had I not gotten an abortion. For one, I’d probably be in labor right now.