"Can I see?" I asked. Emotionless the woman replied, "That's not our policy." So I put my head back down and continued to lie on the cold table while she performed an ultrasound on me. With my heart pounding and the palms of my hands sweating, I closed my eyes and wished I were anywhere else but this abortion clinic.
It had been almost a year since I had run away from home. Now seventeen, and just a few weeks away from graduating, I had returned to my mother's house only a month before - unknowingly pregnant with my boyfriend's child. When the morning sickness began my mother bought a home pregnancy test and told me that if it was positive she and my step dad would pay for an abortion. End of discussion. No consideration for what I wanted or how I felt. Of course, it didn't matter. I was willing to do whatever she said. I had told her when I came back that I would play by her rules now and so it was either obey or be kicked out. My only other alternative was to go back to my boyfriend, John, and I was too scared to do that. He had beat me up several times and it was the abuse that finally prompted me to call home, begging them to let me come back.
Now I just wanted this terrible ordeal over. Out in the waiting room sat my mother, along with my cousin, Paula. Seven years older than I, Paula had also had an abortion as a teenager and assured me it was no big deal. Right now though it felt like a big deal. I pushed aside thoughts of John and his mother sobbing over the phone when I told them I was scheduled for an abortion that Saturday morning. "Why should I care what they think?!?" I reasoned angrily. He was violent and she never did a thing to protect me from her son's wrath.
A short time later I was in the operating room. The doctor didn't even acknowledge me. I felt trapped - like I just wanted to get out of there. I'd never felt so alone in my life. In seconds the sound of the suction machine and the pain overwhelmed me. No one in that room offered any comfort. I was just a number in a long list of patients that day. Afterward, in a dark room where other women and girls were also recovering, I tried hard not to cry. I was almost successful but for a silent, stray tear that rolled down my cheek.
Later on that day I was at my cousin's house. She and her husband were having a cook out with their family and I was spending the night, as I often did when I was a teenager. I loved babysitting her two girls - I was close to them both and they were my pride and joy. However, that night I wasn't much in the mood for their girlish chatter and giggles. I sat in a lawn chair watching them play when suddenly I felt a pinching sensation in my abdomen. It really hurt. I decided to go to the bathroom. While I was in there I fell to the floor in excruciating pain. After lying there a few minutes, curled up in a ball and holding my stomach, I crawled onto the toilet and began to bleed. I bled and bled. In panic I thought I was going to die. I don't remember how long I stayed there. I think Paula checked on me some time later through the door, but I must have lied and told her I was fine. By the next morning, with most of the physical pain subsiding, I acted like everything was normal. She did too. We didn't discuss the abortion at all.
It's strange to think, but my mom and I never discussed it again either. It was taboo - for both of us. Like it never happened. The only time I talked about it with anyone was just once, about a week later. A girl I went to school with confided to me that she had just found out she was pregnant. After listening to her I advised her to have an abortion. I told her the same thing Paula had told me - that it was no big deal. Looking back, years later, this would haunt me. I don't know why I told her that. I knew, even then - before knowing the Lord, that it really was a big deal. That it was wrong.
Isn't it ironic that we live in a society that says abortion is perfectly fine - that it's a woman's "choice" - but then that same society teaches us to keep quiet about it when we've had one? Some may argue that I'm wrong about this. "Who tells them to be quiet?" they ask. However, when was the last time you heard a woman talk freely and publicly about her abortion, telling everyone that it was a great decision? Granted, there are those who are spokespersons for the feminist movement who might go around saying that; but how about around the water cooler, the hair salon, or at church - do you ever hear ordinary women talking that way?
For me it would be seven years before I spoke of it again. During that time I stuffed it, pretending that all was fine. As with everything though, God had other plans. He wanted to redeem this awful thing in my life and heal it. In my next post I'll share with you the rest of my story - the way God gave me "beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness... ." (Isaiah 61:3) I'll also give some practical steps you can take if you've had an abortion and are suffering. Please feel free to comment here and if you need to talk with someone, I'll be happy to get back to you right away.
Note: Names in my story have been changed to protect privacy.
No comments:
Post a Comment