Choice.
This is my story of choice: The choice of pregnancy, of
children, and abortion. For too many women, the stigma associated with
abortion causes them to not speak out, to hide what they've done, to not tell a
soul. I'm ending that stigma for myself - after all, if one in three women
will have an abortion by the time they are in their 40s, it's not such a stigma
after all.
People have this impression of abortion clinics - that it
must be some sort of abortion factory, where you walk in, state "Hey! I'm pregnant
and I want an abortion!" and the person behind the counter says "Sure!
Great choice! Follow me." You go in a room, get in a gown, have a vacuum
attached to your vagina, have a screaming baby sucked out of you piece by
piece, wipe up, get dressed, get a lollipop and walk on out, with a coupon for
50% off if you refer a friend.
NOT TRUE.
Choice.
Every single woman, when staring at that positive
pregnancy stick, is immediately faced with a choice. To keep, or not to keep? For those who have been trying to get
pregnant, who are happily married and will welcome this much-desired child with
open arms, the news is joyous. For those in a long-term monogamous
relationship, the news can be good news, but a bit unsettling.
For hundreds of thousands of other women, the news is
shattering. I won't even touch on victims of rape, of sexual abuse, of incest - that should speak for itself. And if you are heartless enough to think that
a woman who finds herself pregnant by such a repugnant act should be forced to
bear that child, I don't have the words to describe how evil that is. That you
think your ideas about her body trumps the hell that she has gone through and
her choice to deal with it the best way that she knows how, no matter what that
way might be.
That positive stick, that little wand of magic, has just
cast a spell on the rest of your life. You begin thinking of the abusive
relationship that you are trying to get out of. You think of the promotion that
you are aiming for, where the males in charge most likely won't look highly
upon a woman who is about to be "in the family way." You think of the
crazy night where you had too much to drink, let your inhibitions go, and slept
with a cute guy who said all the right things and make you feel beautiful, and
smart, and funny. Who whispered in your ear and bought you another shot, and
smiled at only you. Who suggested going
somewhere else to get to know each other better, and who you ended up having
sex with, maybe with doubts in your mind, maybe he was more forceful than he
should have been, maybe you were a completely willing participant and maybe you
weren't. Maybe you were on a form of birth control - 89% of women who are at risk of unintended pregnancy use contraceptives. Your intention was not to
become pregnant, but now that little positive stick that holds such massive
upheaval for your life is staring you in the face.
Choice.
My story.
I was twenty-four years old and madly in love with a tall, dark,
handsome, older man who professed to love me as well. I told my parents that I
was going to marry this man, and had visions of "together forever"
with him. However, six months into the relationship I began catching him in
lies, in acts of deceit; things weren't adding up anymore. Anyone who has had a
relationship with a narcissist will recognize what I am talking about.
Simultaneously, I found out that he had been cheating on me for our entire
relationship, and I was pregnant.
I had just finished school and began a career with a
company where I could have gone to the top. I was with a man who I now knew to
be a pathological liar and a cheat, and I was facing an unwanted pregnancy. I
had been on the pill for years (I used them not only for birth control, but
also to treat menstrual migraines). In this instance, through no fault of my
own, the birth control failed. We made an appointment at Planned Parenthood. I
can recall trying to find basic information on abortion and becoming so
frustrated, because all I could find was propaganda from pro-life sites (many
initially disguising themselves as factual sites), when all I wanted was
clear-cut information about what my choices were. At the appointment, I had an
ultrasound to determine how far along I was. I will never forget the tech's
words, as I lay staring at the ceiling, facing my own watershed moment,
"Well, it's twins."
I instantly burst into tears. I was asked if I wanted to
look at the screen - no, I did not. I spoke with the doctor, who assured me
that, even though I had heavily drank alcohol and continued to take my birth
control pills while not knowing that I was pregnant, that the babies would
probably be just fine.
I made an appointment before leaving for the abortion,
but called the next day and canceled. I had made my choice. Facing potential
single-motherhood, facing the daunting thought of twins, facing the potential
disruption of my career, I had made my choice.
Choice.
Two years later, twin 13-month old boys, and the father
who was showing his true colors of being an alcoholic, abusive and demeaning.
Someone who would gamble and drink our money away until there was none left -
none except for the dollars that I would hide from him, so that I could buy the
necessities, like milk or diapers, when they were needed. The night I found out
I was pregnant again was the night that he came home after getting a DUI. He
cursed and swore at me when I told him, his voice slurring, my babies down the
hall from us. Once again, I was on the pill. Once again, it failed.
Choice.
I immediately knew that I would keep this pregnancy. I
can't explain it; I just knew that I was meant to have this child, and abortion
was not an option for me. My mother cried when I told her I was pregnant, and
asked why I didn't consider abortion, since I had considered it earlier. All I
could say was, it was my choice, and I chose to keep it.
Choice.
Two years later: I finally get up the nerve to leave the
father of my children. Thus ensues a living hell, complete with restraining
orders against him and heavy court involvement over custody of our
children. Suicide attempts by him, in
an effort to keep me nearby and personally involved with me. Many other events
not mentionable here.
I met someone else. Someone who presents himself as a
hero. Someone who tells me all the magic words: "I've never met anyone
like you. You're the woman I've been waiting for. I want to spend the rest of
my life with you. You're amazing, beautiful, wonderful - my life is complete,
now that I have you. Your kids - I will love them like my own."
We were doomed. My ex caused such a strain on our
relationship (and such a strain on me emotionally), that our relationship could
not withstand it. I found out that he was seeking sexual relationships
elsewhere, and my heart broke. I could no longer put up with behavior like that
in my life, and I knew that the relationship would have to end.
Choice.
A week after finding out about his infidelities, I went
to a new doctor to get an IUD. I wanted no risk of pregnancy at all, from
anyone. During my checkup, the doctor asked if cancer ran in my family, and if
I had lost a lot weight recently, and then dropped the bombshell that she had
found a tumor somewhere in or around my uterus. We would need to determine
where the tumor was located and its size, and what type it was, before focusing
on an IUD. Ultrasounds were scheduled, both internal and transvaginal. Weeks
after the ultrasounds, I got the news from the doctor's office that I was HPV
positive and that my PAP smear had come back abnormal. Tumor. HPV. Abnormal
PAP. I was thinking cervical cancer. I asked the nurse on the phone about the
tumor, as I had heard nothing since having the ultrasound. She said that the
doctor was out of the office for over a week, but that she was ordering a
colposcopy to determine the cause of the abnormal PAP and would most likely
biopsy the tumor at that time.
Colposcopy time. I check in and sit nervously, a million
thoughts running in my head. A nurse pulls me aside and utters the words that
would change my life, "Due to the invasive nature of a colposcopy, we
won't do it until after delivery."
Delivery?????
"Oh, you're pregnant. Didn't you know?"
No. No, I did not.
Choice.
Turns out the tumor that the "good" doctor felt
was actually the pregnancy. She never ordered a pregnancy test, no one told me
I was pregnant during or after the ultrasounds. A month went by, valuable time
wasted, while I thought I had cancer, thanks to the thoughts this doctor put in
my head.
The doctor asked what I wanted to do. I told her I did
not want to continue the pregnancy; I was leaving the man, my life was in an
upheaval, and I had wanted an IUD to prevent pregnancy in the first place. I had had severe postpartum depression after
each delivery and wasn't sure I could go through that again.
Choice.
I scheduled an appointment at Planned Parenthood. My
mother went with me, and it was at that appointment, during the ultrasound,
that I found out how far along I was (much farther than the doctor had told me
I was). I spoke with both a doctor and a counselor, and waited the mandatory
time before being allowed to have the abortion.
Choice.
The day of the abortion is a day that will be seared in
my memory for the rest of my life. I remember wondering what the story was of
all the other women in the clinic. Young, older, all different races, sizes,
features. Some quiet, some staring into space. Some alone, some with someone
there for support, like I had. I remember the feelings, the sensations as the
abortion took place. I recall not wanting to feel anything at all, and feeling
exactly what was happening. I remember the recovery room, again looking at the
other women recovering alongside me, and wondering, again, what their story
was. Everyone has a story. But who wants to hear it?
I am 100% certain that I made the right choice for me.
Given the shambles that my life was in at that moment, a pregnancy might
literally have cost me my mind. I would have been no good as a mother to the
children I already had. I would have been in even more, dire of financial
straits. The schooling that I had started, to provide a better life for myself
and my child, would have had to been put on hold. My mental health would have been shot. My ex may well have gone
crazy with the thought of me pregnant with another man's child, and done
something drastic.
But the wonderful thing about the freedom of choice is
that we don't need to justify an abortion with a qualifying reason. As women,
if we find ourselves with an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy, we have the CHOICE
to do what we see fit with our own body, our own lives.
I prayed. I cried. I pondered, and wept at the unjustness
of it all. I wondered if it was a boy or a girl. Certain songs made me break down in the aftermath. But slowly, I
got better. I healed. I deeply understood that I made the right choice for
myself.
Choice.
A year later, as I was folding some of my kid's clothes
for a rummage, I began thinking of the abortion. Folding those outgrown, tiny clothes tugged at something in me,
and I began to cry. At that exact moment, reaching into the bottom of the bag
of clothes, my hand brushed against something small and hard. It was a
heart-shaped pendant that read, 'Angel of Joy." I knew that for me, it was
a sign that everything was fine, and was just how it should be.
Choice.
Don't condemn those of whose shoes you have never deigned
to walk. Don't judge those who have made choices that, God willing, you might
never have to make yourself.
Choice. It's a complicated, beautiful thing. I made a choice, I stand by it, and I
support all men and women who stand by the right to choose.
~~~
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If you would like to share your story, message Rock The Slut Vote on Facebook. Your anonymity is guaranteed. If you are providing statistics or facts, please make sure to send links to back up your facts. You can send your story via email format or word doc.
