CW: verbal & physical abuse; domestic violence
My story isn’t your typical abortion story. Parts of it – maybe.
Baby’s father already had 3 children with 3 different women. Any talk we had about pregnancy and having more children after we first began to get intimate, he would say he wasn’t ready for more, and I would say I wanted an abortion. We knew each other for about a month before our first time. During that first time? I did everything but say the word “no” and get up from the bed. It still happened.
Time goes by, and I’m sleeping more, and my stomach is getting larger. I had only a single 2-3 day bug, and no other visible symptoms. We lived with his mother, and when she found out about my bug, she thought I was pregnant. And the actual living situation was so tense – no one in the house was able to hold a job, and we were living in the middle of nowhere, so there were no businesses within walking distance.
Fast forward a few weeks, I take a pregnancy test, and it’s positive. I cried the next 3 days. He wasn’t happy. Fast forward a bit more, and the already tense situation got more tense the night the verbal abuse turned physical. Long story short, I went to a battered women’s shelter for the next month and a half, where I tried so many different ways to make money and battled my own depression and anxiety surrounding the situation. It’s hard being pregnant with your abuser – you miss him and want to be around him almost as much as you know you should never be around him again – especially because I’ve had years of domestic violence from my own mother, and a single police report against her.
At 19 weeks, I found a resource that pays for your abortion – the travel, lodging, meals, etc. By this time, I was feeling my baby boy moving quite often, and every other remembrance of his existence or being pregnant soured my mood almost instantly. Day one of the procedure went swimmingly. Only – the baby didn’t make it to day two. I actually ended up having him at 12:49AM the next morning, alone in the hotel room. I saw his perfect little fingers and toes. His mouth was open – I saw his gums. His father’s nose. What has stuck with me the most was his face and neck. They were purple, while the rest of him was not. It’s only been a few days, and I still see him when I close my eyes.
The strangest part was the calm and the detachment. I wish I held him a bit longer. Stared at him more. Because within an hour of his arrival, I saw his face for the last time. Went to the clinic the next morning and passed him on to them. During the entire two-day process, I teared up only a bit. The loneliness of having no support system. Knowing that I’ve always wanted children, then becoming pregnant during a time in my life where I simply could not offer a child everything he or she truly deserves. I know time will heal these wounds. It hurts, but I know this was for the best.
“Please, baby, forgive me… to conceive you and then leave you. The concept alone seems evil; I’m trapped in my conscience… It’s like I feel you in the air. I hear you saying, ‘Mommy, don’t cry; can’t you see I’m right here’… Wish I could touch your little face or just hold your little hand. If it’s part of God’s plan, maybe we can meet again (Onika Miraj).”