Submitted by: Morgan
It’s been 2 weeks since I made the hardest decision I’ve ever made in my entire life. I am so broken over it and I truly don’t know how I’m ever going to forgive myself or my husband for having made it. I’m sharing my story because in all the many abortion stories I read I didn’t find many like mine.
We didn’t think we could have children of our own, our other two are the result of fertility treatments and years of trying on our own prior to that. After not trying or preventing for 4 years since our last we had gotten to a point where we were done. My husband had a vasectomy scheduled and everything, but it got canceled because of the pandemic (not that it would’ve mattered, because conception happened just a few days prior to that would have been appointment by my calculations.)
When I realized I was pregnant I was so shocked, then excited, and finally, absolutely terrified. My husband has been extremely stressed with work as this pandemic is hitting his industry hard. When I told him the news I have never seen him look more terrified in our entire relationship. I shook the entire time because I was a mess of emotions and he just sat there with this look of terror on his face as he repeated over and over that we were pregnant. Even as he said out loud it would all be ok I just knew he wasn’t here for it.
The next day he became increasingly short with me and by the evening, after we’d put our kids to bed, he sat me down and cried his eyes out to me as he outlined all the reasons this pregnancy was a bad idea. It was primarily focused on finances, but also our ages (I’m pushing 40, he’s into his 40’s), our children’s ages (the gap would be 5 years between the youngest and this new baby), and especially how much it would impact their lives. I grew up extremely poor and he knows it’s my greatest fear to repeat that life. He also explained just how much he disliked the baby phase and how hard it would be to “start over again” when we’ve already moved past all the baby and toddler stages. Plus there’s the whole pandemic going on, which is scary in itself, and he really broke down about the possibility of losing me along the way because of health complications due to my age or acquiring the virus.
All of it made total sense and all of it was stuff I had also considered. I knew where he was going with it, and so when he wavered about actually suggesting abortion because he worried, “he might ruin our marriage by saying what he was thinking,” I actually was the one who said it first. “You want to get an abortion.” I said it, I saw the logic of it, and I saw how utterly broken he seemed by the thought of having this baby. I’ve only ever seen him cry before twice in our whole 10+ year relationship/marriage. And yet, I wanted to keep this baby.
We had suffered a miscarriage prior to our other children and it had broke me. It still haunts me to this day. The idea of aborting a child, one we had managed to create on our own after everything we had been through seemed absolutely insane to me. It still does. For all the very many real reasons why we should not continue with the pregnancy, I couldn’t come to terms with actually terminating it. And yet, how could I not when my husband was that tormented by the idea of it? He all but said it would ruin his/our lives.
I called and made an appointment with Planned Parenthood the next day; they said I had to wait until I was six weeks along before they could see me to be able to verify the pregnancy via ultrasound. I had to sit on all of this for a week. It was the longest week of my life and my range of emotions were intense. I read every abortion story I could find online. I tried so hard to talk myself in to and out of the abortion. I cried. A lot. I couldn’t look at my husband. I couldn’t look at my children. And most of all, I couldn’t look at myself.
Every day the pregnancy symptoms increased and I felt worse in my heart. I shared with my husband over a mess of tears how wrong this all felt and he just kept on course with his arguments against keeping it. The nicest thing he could manage to say was that, “of course he would love it if I couldn’t go through with it and he wouldn’t leave me and would help take care of it, but he wasn’t excited about it and couldn’t be.”
I explained just how thoroughly this act would break me, how much the experience would mirror the miscarriage. I had had to take the same pills to medically terminate the dead fetus as I would to abort this pregnancy. That didn’t worked so I ended up having to get a D&C, which also hadn’t worked, so I ended up needing a second one to finally get all the “products of conception” taken care of. It was traumatic to say the least, and how scared I was about the emotional and physical ramifications. He just kept reassuring me he would be there for me, that it was the right thing to do for our situation, even if it felt wrong. I began to resent him then.
The night before my appointment we had one last conversation about it all. His mind was clearly made up which direction he preferred this took, even though he insisted he was also conflicted about it. I was incredibly honest, once again, about all the reasons why I felt it was wrong. But, that I also saw logic in his reasonings for terminating and that ultimately I would go through with it for him and our children so that their lives wouldn’t be impacted. I made it extremely clear that if the decision were mine alone to make that I would not, under any circumstance have made the decision to abort, and that by doing so I was going to be ruined.
The next morning I drove alone to the clinic, due to the pandemic I wasn’t able to bring anyone with me, not that I could’ve anyway due to needing childcare. I prayed there would be a traffic jam along the way that would cause me to miss my appointment. There wasn’t, so then I prayed I would get into an accident and miss my appointment, but I didn’t. When I arrived I sent him a text that I had arrived and prayed he’d respond to come home, that we could make it work, but he didn’t. He said, “Ok. Love you.”
I cried through the whole process, though everyone was incredibly kind to me, and the facility exceeded my expectations of what one would be like. After the ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy I sent him another text letting him know how far along I was. He responded, “Thanks for sharing.” And that was the moment I hated him. And also the moment I decided that I had to go through with the abortion because he didn’t deserve to have another child, and that it would be far easier to leave him with two children, over two children and a baby. I took the first pill, left with the rest, and sobbed in my car for a bit.
When I got home he immediately hugged me and I just stood there hating him, not hugging back. I avoided the family as much as I could the rest of the day, and then that night, after the kids where in bed, I took the other pills. He went to bed because he was tired and I laid there waiting for them to kick in hating him all the more for being able to sleep. When they finally kicked in around 1 AM, the pain was intense and worse then I had remembered from my miscarriage experience. He rubbed my back the whole time, helped me get to the bathroom when I couldn’t manage it on my own, held the trash can while I vomited in to it as I sat on the toilet bleeding heavily.
He was there for me through it all, but never said a single word. Not one single word. Even as I sobbed in to a towel because of the pain, to muffle it from our children sleeping, he didn’t say one single word. After about 4 hours the worst of it was over and we were able to settle in to bed. When the kids got up shortly there after he took care of them for the day while I “rested.” We had to be extremely mindful that the kids understood I was not feeling well, but didn’t have the virus, so they came in often to check on me. Each time they left I was a puddle of tears.
I barely spoke to or looked at my husband for two days afterwards before I finally blew up on him for everything; what he texted back at the clinic, his lack of any words of comfort or anything while I endured the physical pain of the experience. He claimed he was scared that if he said anything it would’ve been the wrong thing so he just tried to be there for me. I told him I hated him. That he failed me, us, our family. That I hated myself. It got ugly. He said he deserved all of it and has so many regrets. I agreed to go to couples counseling even as I wanted nothing more than to walk out the door with the kids in tow and never see him again. I made this decision so it wouldn’t impact our children’s lives, leaving would do just that, so I’m staying and I’m going to try to make things work.
It’s hard. I can’t stop thinking about the life that could have been. Prior to this pregnancy I thought our family was complete, now I feel something is missing. Everything about this situation is awful and terrible and to make matters worse I cannot get a moments reprieve because we have been quarantined together going on 60 days now. I was knowingly pregnant for just over a week and it’s termination will haunt me for the rest of my life.