The following is a completely true story. True, and a secret until now. There is anxiety fluttering through me as I type this. I've wanted to write this down for a long time now, but the fear of reaction kept me from it. In light of everything that has recently happened in our country regarding women's reproductive rights, I could not keep my secret any longer. I know I am not the only woman in the world with such a story, but I am one of them, and it is my turn to share.
On August 27th, 2011, I found out I was pregnant. Earlier that week, i had been feeling like my relationship with my boyfriend wasn't going to last much longer. we had been growing distant, and I suspected him of cheating on me. I decided to break up with him rather than let things grow more stale and unhealthy. The morning of the 27th, I woke up knowing this was Breakup Day. He lived 3 hours away and was already at work, so I texted him. Not the best thing to do, but whatever. That's the type of relationship we had. I told him I felt we were growing apart and it would be better for both of us to just step away now. I told him I was sorry, but I couldn't be with him anymore. He texted back, "okay", which struck me as a little odd rather than him asking why, or wanting to fight for me and our relationship. I chalked it up to his growing distance, and tried to push away the lingering sad feelings. I had known the relationship wasn't going to last forever, so why worry too much? It was my decision to end things.
As I headed to the bathroom to get ready for my day, I saw a pregnancy test lying haphazardly in a pile of things stuffed in a bathroom drawer. It was left over from when I had previously been married and actually had wanted a baby. I thought it was kind of funny a thing to still have and went to throw it away, but an overwhelming urge to take the test came over me. No joke, it was as though an uncontrollable impulse came over me. I peed on the stick and set it on the counter as I brushed my teeth and washed my face. A few minutes later I glanced back at the plastic strip sitting on the counter.
Two bright pink lines.
I was fucking PREGNANT.
I literally collapsed to the floor, panicked sobs heaving their way from deep inside me, unbidden. I couldn't think or feel anything. I wracked my brain for any other explanation for those pink lines. A false positive, of course. It was an old test, surely it couldn't be right. It couldn't. It couldn't. It could NOT.
I finally composed myself and went about my day in denial. I pushed those pink lines to the very back of my mind and acted like nothing had happened. My dad was in town and I had just broken up with my boyfriend; there was no room for anything else in my life. Though I enjoyed my time with family that day, everything was tinted with a dark layer of sadness. I was on the verge of tears all day; I blamed it on my recently severed relationship.
Two days later I told my ex i was wrong. I didn't want to be without him. My feelings were too great, I missed him terribly, I had had a weird lapse in judgement. Honestly, I was terrified of being alone in my new state of being, and I wanted things between us to be good, if I WAS actually pregnant. I let a couple more days go by before driving over to the dollar store and picking up six pregnancy tests. Yes, SIX. I had read they were just as accurate as the name brand tests, and I wanted to be SURE.
Within thirty seconds, every single fucking test told me I was pregnant. There was no denying the biological situation. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't ready for a baby. i was barely taking care of myself after having so recently ended my marriage. My current relationship was a joke, even though I was pretending everything was okay. I had to stop this. There was no other way around it. I simply could not become a mother. I had to have an abortion.
I was raised in a fairly strict, fundamentalist christian home. I had been a pastor's kid, a church music leader, a youth group leader. I had a bible verse tattooed on my arm for all the world to see. I had recently stopped going to church for many reasons, but the teachings and words passed down from pastor to parent to child ran strong and deep within me. Abortion was WRONG. I was killing a baby, right? I got myself into this mess and i had no choice, right? It takes two to make a baby, right? My family would be so disappointed in me! It was all my fault, RIGHT? I wrestled with this for a week. I went about life on a tightrope made of eggshells. My one friend at work asked what was wrong, and I broke down. I told her the awful news and how conflicted I was feeling. I told her how I couldn't decide what to do because every choice look wrong and terrifying. "What are you going to do?" she asked. "You know you do have a choice? You have to do something about this."
I made a choice. I steeled myself and made an appointment with Planned Parenthood for the next week. I think I practically whispered over the phone; I was so paranoid about anyone else knowing. I was so ashamed that I told my boss I had found out I was pregnant, but the doctors found something wrong and the baby wasn't going to make it, so I had to take a day off to get things "taken care of". She gave me such a look of disdain I felt even more that I was the most horrible person in the entire universe. I was going to hell and I would never had good in my life again.
I had to drive forty minutes to the nearest Planned Parenthood. I had researched and decided the pill method would probably be the best option. My health insurance was very vague on coverage for abortions; it just stated "elected abortions covered". I figured i would pay my copay, talk to a doctor, and go from there. Wherever There was.
I arrived at Planned Parenthood about thirty minutes early, nervous as hell. I filled out the paperwork, again doing everything I could to hide what I was doing. It didn't matter that I was in a clinic that dealt with this very Thing. I was still extremely ashamed. I took my paperwork back to the nurse and she told me it would cost $645 for the pill, or $545 for the "regular method". I began to cry as I told her I didn't have that kind of money, and didn't my insurance cover It? She double checked for me, but explained that Planned Parenthood as a clinic specifically wasn't covered. I could go to my doctor, which would still cost almost $300, or pay $645 upfront there. I didn't have that kind of money at all. I left, feeling like the world was crushing in around me and I couldn't breathe. I had planned on staying home that weekend to let everything take place, but I couldn't stand to be alone. I let my boyfriend know I was coming to visit him for the weekend.
On the way out of town, I stopped at Whole Foods. I had read up on natural ways of potentially inducing abortion, and I was ready to try anything. This is not something I would ever recommend to someone to attempt on their own. I was desperate. I approached the herbal supplement and vitamin aisle, feeling in my bones that everyone around me knew exactly why I was there and what I was looking for. I found the supplements and left as quickly as possible. The instructions from every website I visited said to take two pills every four hours until cramping and bleeding started. I hastily took two of the giant pills before I left the parking lot, crying as I once again realized my entire world had disintegrated.
My weekend was uneventful. My boyfriend didn't question the pills, and didn't really seem very enthused that I had come out for the weekend. I ignored this, and tried to act like everything was okay.
It wasn't. I continued to take the pills. I had also read that fresh parsley stuffed up the vagina would help induce a period, so I went to the grocery store and bought parsley. I lived with someone, so I used a little in cooking so they wouldn't suspect anything weird. I was convinced they would just KNOW by looking at me. I took the pills and stuffed parsley up my vagina for almost three weeks. I was fucking desperate. I tried to live life like nothing had happened, and my anxiety shot through the roof. I still did not even consider telling someone what was going on. I was so incredibly afraid of judgement and disappointment from my friends and family, and I thought everything was my fault. I now rarely talked to my boyfriend on the phone. We would text daily, but it was becoming less and less. He kept having out of town weekend work meetings, so I hadn't seen him since the weekend i decided to take my pregnancy matters into my own hands. I hadn't told him I was pregnant, either.
The weekend of my birthday was almost a month after I found out i was pregnant. I decided to treat myself to a weekend getaway at the coast. I was convinced that this was the weekend I would naturally miscarry, and I had an entire scenario imagined out in my mind. I was already feeling relieved in preparation for what I thought would be a painful, but necessary process to bring my life back to normal. I set out on the road with one goal in mind: making myself Not Pregnant.
The drive was okay. I turned up Taylor Swift as loudly as possible and sang along. I tried not to think about what lay ahead and only about what the outcome would be. About an hour and a half into my trip, on a two-way highway in the hills, my steering wheel suddenly jerked to the left. A semi-truck was coming the opposite way, and I was heading straight for it. I attempted to correct the wheel, but my tire caught the curve in the road on the passenger side, and my car flew into the air down the embankment. I knew I was going to die. I remember screaming and gripping the steering wheel as though I could stop the car from flipping over and over. I did not see my life flash before my eyes. Only blackness and the loud crunching of glass and scrape of metal surrounded me.
My car landed right-side up. I was able to walk away from the car. Someone had witnessed the accident and an ambulance was there within minutes. They took me to an emergency room close by, and I was able to call my mom to come get me. While I was waiting for her to get to the hospital, the nurse drew some blood. She came back a few minutes later, asking if I knew I was pregnant. I said no, and acted shocked. I lied to a complete stranger, whom I would never see again. I begged her not to say anything to my mom, and she complied. She was concerned, obviously, so I assured her I would see my doctor when I got back to my city. My mom showed up, and we went home. My car was totaled, I sustained whip-lash and some bad bruises, but nothing more serious.
Three weeks later, I borrowed my brother's car for a purported "regular lady checkup" with my doctor. I felt defeated. I was pregnant, not married, and now financially unstable because of my car accident. I was, in my own eyes, completely unfit to be a parent. But now there was no other choice. I had to face my future. The tiny bean that popped up on the ultrasound screen brought tears to my eyes once again. I told my family and friends that the doctor discovered my pregnancy during my examination. I was so terrified, but I felt a resolve come over me as that little thing moved inside me. I would be a parent, and figure this out as best I could.
Before my pregnancy, I was vehemently opposed to abortion. I thought feminism was a copout for women who were spurned by men. I had come away from an abusive marriage, but I was still so far from myself I had no idea who I was as a woman, or human being, really. Though I had used protection, I still got pregnant. When I told my boyfriend I was pregnant, he broke up with me, told me he actually had been cheating on me, and let me know he wanted nothing to do with being a father. I was on my own, and I discovered a strength within that few can truly discover unless they go through harrowing experiences. I discovered that being a strong woman is difficult, but not impossible.
I now have a three year old son. He is the light of my life, and I cannot imagine my world without him. He is here because I could not afford to have an abortion. That may sound callous, but it's just fact. This doesn't change or diminish my love for him. It just is, and that's okay. Through my journey I have realized that women need to have that choice. Until I became pregnant, I didn't think I would consider any option other than having the child. But when push came to shove, I did consider. I CHOSE abortion, even though it didn't come to fruition. I don't believe this was divine intervention, or some other mystical force thwarting my insurance company. And I don't regret my initial choice whatsoever.
I am pro choice because I was presented with a choice, and I had to make that choice myself. I am pro choice because women shouldn't have to survive any of this alone, but should have the full support of others within their choice. I am a feminist because I believe all women should know they have strength within themselves to be powerful in whatever they do, no matter what. I am a feminist because I have a son, and I want to ensure that he grows into a respectful man. I am a feminist because I respect myself, and know that I have everything it takes to fulfill my dreams and passions.
I do wish I would not have waited four long years to speak out about my true story. I know now that I would have had support no matter what. It is now my turn to give that support to any and all women who need it. We need each other, and we have the strength within ourselves for anything that comes our way.
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