My abortions

This by far is the most difficult section for me to complete. I sit here at my laptop with tears in my eyes and tissues in my hands. 

This is HARD, really hard.



If you read any of my early years under the tab you may have a little insight as to why and how I got to this point. It is never easy to reflect on one of the worst pains of one's life ... but that is why I am embarking on this journey. To share, to offer hope, to offer healing.

<2002> following the end of my failed marriage, I was engaged in a typical 'rebound' relationship. We were two completely different people. I intended to find someone as unlike my ex-husband as possible. I did. What followed was nearly a year of turbulence with extreme emotions and failure. I remember the test. I remember how sick I felt. I remember the room spinning and I clearly remember thinking 'there is no way I can raise a child alone'. Sadly enough I looked up abortion clinics without much thought. I found one in town and made an appointment. I was 6 weeks pregnant and I saw the baby on the ultrasound ... an image to this day I will never forget. I felt dirty and alone as I sat in the clinic waiting room by myself. I was given a extra strength Motrin and I waited. The procedure was painful, much different than I had expected. The doctor told me the shots would not be as bad as enduring the pain of childbirth. What he neglected to tell me was the emotional pain would last a lifetime. 

<2004> one would assume at this point I was on birth control, but the sad reality was I was not. I was irresponsible and never sought out a alternative to my inability to take birth control pills. I was with a man I assumed I would spend my life with. Though our relationship could best be described as fire and ice. One minute we were in love, the next minute we hated each other. The fights were awful and the amount of hurt we caused one another was immeasurable. Another test, another positive, another grief stricken painful decision to do the only thing I knew how to do. My second abortion was numbing to me. It did not feel real. I felt somehow detached from the situation. I remember my boyfriend at the last minute after handing over the cash for the procedure asking me if I was sure. I cried ... in fact in a way I never stopped crying. I held the abortion against him and a part of me blamed him in a sad attempt to help myself cope. If he had a job, a house, a way to care for us I could have had the child ... the blame game ended our relationship.

<2005> this would be the last year I went in my life without knowing our Savior and it was likely my worst and most turbulent yet. My relationship in my eyes was over before it began. Yet I found myself in midst a place I had never been before. A relationship with a very unstable and emotionally abusive human being. It took me about 6 months and moving in with this man to realize how controlling and scary he was. At the point I decided to leave and live with family I found out again I was pregnant. This time I was scared to death to tell this person for fear of his wild temper. In anger I told him over the phone and informed him I was getting an abortion and he was not allowed to come. This pushed him over the edge with threats and constant stalking in an attempt to locate me. It was my third abortion and the numbness continued. I do not remember anything about this particular visit. I was hurt, scared and ready for the entire relationship to be behind me. I went home to my dad's house and slept for an entire day, the tears came and went.


One thing I will never get over while I reflect on these low points in my life were how many women, both young and old, different races, and varying income levels were in the room waiting for that chosen fate with me. It had to be 10 or more each given time. 10 of us just during an hour in a small town in the middle of a gigantic country. How many lives have been changed, both those lives lost in the womb and the women who lose themselves after. I won't forget the nurse who told me of women who used abortion as their form of birth control have multiple ones a year. The shame inside was hard to bear and has been even harder to describe. 

To this day I cannot stand being in a yellow room. Yellow. A cheery, fun, summery color ... has been forever tainted by my past painful memories. Yellow was the recovery room. A room they called their 'yellow room' painted bright yellow like the sunshine with 4 dark green cots lined up along the walls. Each had a conveniently placed plastic bin next to it in event someone threw up. The beds were stiff and cot like. The pillow were the little cotton gauze airplane pillows. Nothing about the make shift beds screamed comfort. Yet this is where one went to lie for 30 minutes following the procedure. Each time at least one other person was in the room lying with me. Though no words were ever spoken. 

... They called it recovery, yet nothing was further from the truth.


 

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