The End is The Beginning is The End-Part 1

Abortions suck. I have come out of the other end of the rabbit hole a much wiser person. The person that entered the rabbit hole was a scared child that desperately wanted to find a way to raise the child that was growing inside of her. The person writing this blog entry now has realized that was foolish and has also died a little inside

…wow that got really intense for a sex and dating blog! But I feel it’s important to talk about in relation to sex and dating because it’s all part of the same story. People get pregnant. Shit happens. You give birth or you don’t. That’s life. In the end I decided on the medical abortion, or the abortion pill, because it is far less invasive and I could be at home. I had done copious amounts of research online and had decided that it was going to be the worst thing that had ever happened to me. A nightmare of pain and emotions. Don’t get me wrong, it totally was, but not in the way you think.

Saturday I woke up early, picked Justin up, and drove to the neighborhood Planned Parenthood. We were the first ones there and were promptly greeted with a stack of paperwork. I filled it out in less than 30 seconds then proceeded to have a slow torturous mental breakdown while I waited for my name to be called.

Once it finally was, I was led into a room where a very, very nice woman asked me questions about my life and my habits, and of course Justin. She wanted to make sure I was doing it of my own free will and that I had someone to support me through the process. I told her I did and that he was there with me and would be for the next two days while I sat around in agony.

Then I started to cry.

I cried for the baby I wouldn’t get to have and for my life that had gone down the tubes. She listened to me and gave me tissues. I could see she felt terrible for me, but I’m sure she couldn’t do or say anything for me for fear of some sort of legal complications down the road. Abortion is a serious issue that she can’t say is right or wrong. All she could do was tell me lots of women have been down this road before and that they would be very gentle with me. She gave me a few minutes to collect myself, and then she left me to disrobe before the doctor came in.

I will preface this by saying that I am the type of girl that avoids gynecologists at all costs. I do not like non penis things being inserted into my vagina. I can’t even use tampons. They freak me out. So when I realized that I would have to do a vaginal ultrasound, I nearly lost my shit.

I tried to remain calm as the doctor told me the things she would and would not be able to see from the ultrasound. Then she asked if I wanted to see it when the picture came on the screen. I thought about it for a minute before answering and decided I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I could say no to that. I made it, I might as well see it. In the end, it just looked like a tiny lump. I didn’t have any strong feeling or attachment to it, just a sense of wonder. Science Bitch!

She told me it was six weeks and six days old, and suddenly my suspicions were confirmed, it was our President’s Day baby. We had gotten drunk and had sex in my kitchen. It had been 48 hours of shenanigans. We weren’t as careful as we should have been, and boy did we pay dearly.

The ultrasound wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting, and was over before I knew it. I wanted to take one more look at the screen, but the doctor shut it off quickly before she walked out of the room.

I put my pants back on, and walked out to the consultation room where Justin and I were then given the facts about what would happen for the next few days. We were allowed to ask any questions we had, and of course it was me that had a thousand of them. I wanted to know specifically about the pain and the large blood clots. They told me in my initial phone interview that I could expect blood clots up to the size of a lemon. Now, if you’re a woman go back and read that sentence again. Blood clots the size of a lemon. That just sounds awful. The doctor told me that every woman is different and that people don’t go on the internet to post happy abortion stories, most just post the horror stories.

Then she took the pill in her hand and asked me one last time if this was something I wanted to do. She said that once I took the pill there was no going back. I had to continue until the end. I said I was ready, took the pill from her and swallowed it.

Part Two

 

 

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Posted on April 8, 2014, in I've got the feels..., Word Diarreah... and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Hi there!

    I know this is sort of strange, but I’m an advanced journalism student currently working on my final portfolio. It’s an in-depth, 3-part series about a current issue in America. I chose the defunding of Planned Parenthood under the Trump Administration, and the negative consequences of his actions. I’m working on my profile story, and was hoping to find a subject who personally experienced the (life-changing) services. It seems like you might fit the bill, and I was wondering if you would be willing. All names and personal info can be kept anonymous, and the interview can be done via email. If you have a few minutes and are willing to have your story featured, please contact me!

    Sorry for the long post, but thanks for reading. I hope you have a fabulous day!

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