For those of you who think it’s an easy thing to walk into
an abortion clinic, those of you who think we walk in and leave an hour later
like nothing happened, those of you who think women aren’t personally responsible
enough to make decisions for our own bodies, here’s what a day at the clinic
really feels like...
6:00am – We pull into the driveway; my boyfriend drops me
off and tells me to call him when I’m done. (Um, yeah, thanks babe)
6:05am – I’m greeted by a wall of protestors, yelling at me,
judging a situation they know nothing about, calling me names, shoving pictures in my face, making the whole experience much worse than expected.
6:10am – along with 10 other girls, ranging in age from
16-40, we check in and are told to wait until we hear our names called.
6:15am – as we sit in a cold waiting room, we’re reminded
what we’re here for. Looking at each other, wondering when and where our life
stories took a turn and how we got here, by ourselves.
6:45am – my name is called and I’m taken to a cold room,
with lockers, hard tile floor and hanging sheets for us to change behind.
6:50am – I’m told to put on a gown and wait to hear my name
called.
7:05am – I’m brought in for an ultra sound, I hear the
heartbeat, I see the photos. My heart breaks all over again.
7:15am – I’m brought back into the cold room with lockers
and tile floor, yet again, waiting to hear my name called.
8:05am – my name is called. I’m walked down a short hallway
and taken into the procedure room.
8:10am – I’m asked to confirm my name and birthday. I’m then
asked to lay down on the table, all the while, they are still in the process of
wheeling out the girl before me. I lay down on my back and I’m asked to place
my feet into stirrups. Not the kind we’re used to at the Gynecologist. These
ones are higher, colder and would make any person feel horribly vulnerable.
8:15am – An IV is administered, a mask is put on my face to
put me to sleep and a machine that sounds like a vacuum is turned on before I
fall asleep. In that moment, tears run down the side of my face onto the pillow
I’m lying on, in this moment I realize these are my final minutes with my
unborn baby.
8:45am - I wake up. I’m in horrible pain, I’m bleeding, I’m
disoriented, I’m sick, throwing up on myself from the anesthesia and I’m left
there to wait because they only have 1 nurse to tend to 10 women.
9:15am – I’m cleared to leave, out the back door as to not
be bombarded by protestors…again.
Bent over, holding my stomach, I’m able to get in the car with the help of my
cousin. I immediately start to sob.
1 month later – depressed, still recovering and in constant
pain, crying all the time, feeling worthless, feeling alone, dirty and like I can
never take enough showers to wash off the pain of that day.
2 months later – still depressed, crying in the shower
everyday so no one will hear, having recurring nightmares of that day and the
sound of the vacuum.
3 months later – even more depressed, questioning my
decision, knowing that I made the right one, but still wondering if I could
have made it, knowing I couldn’t.
6 months later – those damn nightmares still taking up space
in my mind
1 year later – I still cry, every time I see a baby or one
of my friends becomes pregnant I immediately go back to a depressed state. Why
do they get the fairy tale? Why didn’t their boyfriends leave? Why, just why?
Almost 7 years later and I still remember
every moment from that day. Every. Single. Moment. I can tell you what I was
wearing, I can tell you how I felt, I can tell you how cold the metal was when
I laid on the table.
But
I can also tell you that it was one of the best decisions I ever made for
myself. At 23 years old, I wasn’t strong enough mentally or physically to bring
another life into this world. My life now is full, I accomplished things I
never dreamed that I could do before, because I decided to be selfless instead
of selfish.
Some of you may not agree with abortion and that’s fine.
What’s not fine is judging someone, calling them names, making them feel like
less of a person because they decided to put themselves first. Until you’ve
felt that cold metal on your back, gone through the months of recovery and had
to pick yourself up and hold your head high, you don’t get to judge me. You don’t
get to say that what I did was wrong.
What is currently happening in our country is embarrassing.
When did it become okay for a room full of men to tell me, my mom, my sister,
my cousins, my aunts, my grandma, my friends or any other woman, what she can
and cannot do with her body? One of the alternatives to abortions is death.
Women all over the US and the world will be forced to carry babies to term,
even if it endangers their lives. They’ll throw themselves down stairs, leave
babies in trash cans, abandon them at fire stations or hospitals, and they’ll be
forced to find health care that can and will endanger their lives. If we have enough
money as a nation to pay for a “Wall”, then we have enough money to fund these
treatment centers that offer a wide variety of treatments. Don’t forget, no
government funds go towards abortion services, they do go towards birth
control, STD and STI tests, pregnancy tests, mental health care, and here’s the
one that might shock you, some people use Planned Parenthood as their main
health care provider, not because of money, but because they offer amazing
services and care.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, until these men
grow a pair of ovaries, they most certainly are not going to tell me what I can
do with mine.
