Standing in the bathroom at 6 am, seeing those two lines on the test, in hand, hovering over the cold bathroom counter; is something you can never truly be prepared for.
After telling my partner about the current state of affairs (the affairs being my body), it was received with a very matter of fact “so this is the best choice” speech. While valid points were made, most of the conversation was in a business meeting tone, something about productivity, careers, trajectory of “insert any topic”. I agreed that the timing was not ideal, however completely possible to manage with teamwork. After deliberation on my part and the messaging I received regarding his feelings on the matter, I decided to move forward with the abortion. Truthfully, for my own sake, judging by his responses. I could have moved forward with the pregnancy with family support but in the moment, I felt that would be the path of most resistance (whether or not that is considered selfish- to be determined by public opinion of course). But this story isn’t about his response, or my own feelings- many others here can relate to that notion already. I want to speak on my experience on the day of the abortion.
Upon setting up an appointment with a local clinic and following the pre-abortion “education” provided by the state lawmakers (how helpful), I was mentally preparing myself for the actual event itself. No not the abortion, silly, the front line “warriors” blocking the front door. The closest location with the earliest appointment time is a hot spot for protests and I was lucky enough to need services during the “40 days for life” daily picket lines directed by local catholic groups so there was a guarantee of a social presence.
As the day approached, I felt scared that they would cause conflict or try to assault me. However, I was resolved that I would have to make my way through anyway, I was strong willed after all, headstrong maybe even, so surely I could make it through the posters and chants, through the front gate of the clinic and with my head held high. I would come to find out this was not the case.
On the day of, I drive myself to the location, parking blocks away so that they would not see my license plate or harass me while I try to park. I walk up to an adjacent corner and watch the scene. A mother is bringing out a young girl, maybe 15 and ushering her to their car. Two men with graphic signs begin following them and screaming “Don’t do this to your child”. The mother puts out a strong arm at the men, “NO” and gets her child into the vehicle. Approximately 10 men continue to circle around the gates out front, getting in front of people trying to enter, screaming at them, begging them to listen. I go to take a step towards the building but my feet could not move. Suddenly, every single ounce of confidence, that somewhat headstrong personality I mentioned before, gone. I froze. After pacing up and down the street a few times and peaking around the corner again, I still could not bring myself to move into their sight.
A single tear starts to fall from my eye, “I’m not going to make it inside, am I?”, I start to wonder. After about 15 minutes, clock ticking close to my check in time, I begin walking in the opposite direction. About 50 yards in the distance I see a person walking towards me, headphones in, going to work perhaps or the grocery store. Next thing I knew, I stopped them as they passed. “Excuse me this is going to sound insane”, I said with tears in my eyes, “I have an appointment in that building”, gesturing to the gates, “However I don’t think I can get past the protesters and I am really scared right now. Could you walk me up there?” This person glanced at the clinic and back at me, and said, “Of course”.
As we approached the gates, they told me to stand on the inside against the wall of the building and they would block anyone trying to talk to me. A man yells out, “Ladies, do not do this. We have resources”. My guide yells back firmly, “We don’t want any help thank you.” and ushers me forward, through the gates and towards the door. At the end of the walkway, they opened the door for me where security was and said, “Good luck, be safe”. As I turned to say thank you, they had already started back out towards the crowds. We made brief eye contact and they waved at me with a smile. I may not have gotten their name or their story but they were the most important support I had on that day and I think about them all the time; a total stranger putting themself at risk for the good of their fellow citizen. It’s community that can truly step up to help when the people closest to us let us down.