Jocelyn Miller is a Montessori teacher in San Francisco who spends her weekdays supporting the growth, development, and independence of young children. She is a lover of writing, hiking, spending as much time outside as possible, and going to concerts. She wrote this piece to destigmatize abortion and to offer a story of strength and hope to women and men alike.
“I didn’t touch you, but I felt you. I didn’t know you, but I loved you. I loved you, my first, my only.”
The afternoon I found out I was pregnant with you was just like any other day waiting for my period: I was late. I had gone off my birth control a year prior and I didn’t get my period for six months; then once I did, they were not predictable: they always came, but my cycle wasn’t steady. Sometimes four days late, sometimes ten days… you get the idea.
I had been taking pregnancy tests every cycle for the past six months just to have peace of mind. And to be honest, your dad and I weren’t using protection. And each month, when it decided to, my period came. So at 26 years old, on April 10th, 2015, just as I had for months prior, I took a pregnancy test because I was eight days late. And just as I had for months prior, I did so with ease, telling myself, “What another waste of $15.” See, my boobs hurt and were swollen; I was tired; I was hungry. I was clearly going to get my period.
In the last twenty minutes of my lunch break, I walked to Walgreens and bought the test — thinking the employees must assume I’m really irresponsible (I guess I was?). I walked back to the preschool where I work with ten minutes to spare and decided, “I’ll just do it now. I’m not pregnant.” I went into the first floor bathroom and peed on that little white-tipped stick. As I was peeing, I thought, “Well, it’s definitely going to be negative since this isn’t my first pee of the day. Don’t worry though — you’re not pregnant!”
I sat on the toilet and watched as my destiny-deciding urine — diluted with water, coffee, and last night’s wine — crept across the screen. The first line showed up dark pink as it always did, and then, suddenly, a faint second pink line emerged. “Don’t panic,” I thought. Then, my eyes glued to the test as if it were revealing to me the secrets of the universe, I stared. I stared and I watched the second line darken and become more prominent. I stood up, pants around my ankles, and lost my footing, grasping onto the shelf that held toilet paper and Febreze. I paced the bathroom, test in hand, pants still around my ankles, repeating curses to myself like a meditative mantra.
Rapid thoughts flooded my brain. They were in no particular order: I broke up with your dad and essentially kicked him out of our apartment. Your dad is an alcoholic. I was accepted into the Montessori teacher training program two days prior. I was accepted into a Master’s program the day before. I was promoted to junior teacher two weeks ago. My blood is one part plasma and two parts pinot noir. And with this tornado in my mind, I wrapped the pee stick (that represented my fate) in toilet paper (which, I couldn’t help thinking, was a pretty good metaphor for what was now my life). I pulled up my pants, didn’t flush, and walked back into the classroom where twelve toddlers slept. I looked at them and I couldn’t believe that that potential was now inside me. And then I panicked.
I texted two of my closest friends. They told me to think about what I wanted to do and that they’d support me regardless of my choice. Then I panicked more… I hadn’t even thought about how I had a choice to make, and how this didn’t only involve me, it involved your dad, too. That’s when I called him and told him he needed to come home, that I wasn’t mad at him anymore for all the horrible things he had recently done, and that we needed to talk. At first, he was kind of a jerk, but eventually conceded to drive two hours back to San Francisco even though I had just sent him away that morning.
On the way to the apartment he called and asked if I was hungry. “Starving,” I told him. “I want a burrito. And chips. Don’t forget the chips!” I waited for him on the couch in our front room, digging my thumb into the ridge of my index finger on both hands. I sit there like that until I hear the front door open and your dad walks in. We have only one flight of stairs, but I must have stood and then sat at least twenty times, unsure how to greet him. He walks into the front room while I am mid-stand, so that’s how I greet him. He tosses me the plastic bag with my burrito and chips (along with several containers of salsa that I didn’t ask for but he knows me well enough to bring them anyway), and asks, with little emotion, “What’s wrong?” I sit down and ask him to sit too, and he does so, across the room. We sit in silence for a little while, then I ask him to sit next to me, and he does, all the while looking surprised.
I take his hand in mine and say, “Everything that’s happened the past few weeks doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not mad at you anymore. None of it matters.” Your dad’s hand squeezes mine, although I don’t think it’s purposeful, and he asks again, “What’s wrong?” I look him dead in the eyes, knowing I’m about to change his life forever. That’s the last burrito he’ll ever order without any major care in the world, I think to myself. And then I blurt out, without any grace, and much louder than I intend, “I’m pregnant.” His eyes get wide as frisbees and he says, “Wait. How do you know?” I pull out the test and show him the two pink lines. This apparently isn’t convincing enough, and he asks if I’ve taken any more… haven’t I considered it could be a false positive? I pull out a second test with two pink lines, that I took while on the phone with my sister — this time in the apartment, this time repeating different expletives. It all means the same thing.
Your dad looks at me and then the tests before putting them down, one in my lap and the other in his, but it falls in between us… how symbolic. (Sense my sarcasm, little one.) He puts his hand on my thigh and asks, “What do you want to do?” I ask him, “What do you want to do?” He replies, “I want to do whatever you decide. I support your decision and I’m here no matter what.” In the moment I feel I should be appreciative, but for the first time, I feel angry about ‘my body, my choice.’ Can’t, won’t someone just tell me what to do?! Out loud, we weigh the facts: I have my schooling, I’d lose my position of junior teacher if I don’t do the teacher training program, thus losing the ability to become a head teacher one day. That, and I literally broke up with him two days prior. Your dad talks about how he’s an alcoholic, out-of-work barista. Would you call that dad-approved? We wouldn’t.
I tell him I don’t want an abortion, but nothing about this makes sense. We talk about how we could make it work, but it just doesn’t make sense. And so, we eat our burritos, filling ourselves with reality and carne asada. We sleep in the same room that night, and the next day he drives me to work. When he parks in front of my school, in front of parents carrying in their babies and small children, I call Planned Parenthood and schedule an abortion for ten days from now.
Nine nights later, the night before the appointment, I go to sleep the same way I have every night since I found out about you: heartbroken and tearful. I cry. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to let you go. I’ve always wanted to be a mom, and already, I feel like I know you — and yet I can’t have you.
Again, I sleep in the same room as your dad that night, and when my alarm goes off, I get ready to take the bus to work. Your dad offers to drive me, but I want to listen to music on my headphones. ‘Gone’ by The Head and The Heart plays, and I publicly cry at the lyric Gone are the days when the wind would touch my face, gone are the days when you’re the wind. I work a half day, then your dad picks me up and we drive to Planned Parenthood. There aren’t any protesters out that day and I’m grateful. After I check in, I have to take another urine test. Yes, I’m still pregnant. You’re still with me, and I’m grateful for that too.
I go into a patient room for questions and I’m told your dad can join me later for the mini-counseling session. I look back at him as the door closes behind me and I feel alone, until I remember you’re there with me. The first question the nurse asks is, “What was the first day of your last period?”, and I burst into tears. She assures me, “You don’t have to do this.” I tell her, “I do.” I compose myself. I have an ultrasound which tells me you are a five-week-and-two-day-old single embryo. The technician asks me if I want pictures, and I say, “I do.” When she leaves to print them, I repeat the lyric from ‘Gone’ and I cry more while holding my stomach. She returns and hands me an envelope. I open it and see two pictures of you. For some reason, I’m not moved, but still, I don’t want to lose you.
I move into the mini-counseling session with your dad, and we are firm on our decision. We then move to a different room and wait for the doctor. The abortion will be via the pill (which I think is an awfully ironic name for it). The doctor walks in and is quite pregnant. My eyes fixate on her belly, and I sob. She tells me, “You don’t have to do this. You can always come back.” I tell her, “I can’t.” I’m honest enough with myself to know that if I leave, I will never will come back. I ask for the pill and she hands me it along with a cup of water. I swallow hard several times until the pill burrows into the back of my throat like a rock. I cough and drink more water until it goes down, close to you. The doctor leaves and your dad and I hold each other and cry. We don’t say any words, but our embraces tell each other that we did the right thing.
Three years later, I look back on that day as the most difficult, important, unforgettable, and un-regrettable moment of my life. I wish I could have kept you, but I know our lives wouldn’t have been what you deserve. Each day, I will continually honor you and thank you for making the sacrifice so I could become a head teacher and get my Master’s degree; so your dad could take the steps he needed to stop drinking. You will always be part of my heart, and I know that if someday I see two pink lines again, it will be you coming back to me. And when that day comes, we’ll both be ready.
Laura
June 10, 2019 at 1:41 amIt’s been 44 years since my abortion and I think of her every day. I was never able to have a child, she was my first and only chance. You may wonder why I say “she”….. I know her from my dreams.
I always thought she would come back to me somehow but only in my sleeping dreams and waking thoughts.
Caroline
June 8, 2019 at 8:14 pmI really feel stupid and sad I’m pregnant and everyone doesn’t support my relation ship.i now want to abort and sadly get over my man
Mary
May 19, 2019 at 2:44 amI don’t blame you for choosing to terminate your pregnancy.
J
May 5, 2019 at 5:44 amThank you so much for sharing this. It will be 8 years since my abortion in July and I still think about it every day. Like you, I could not have made a life for my baby at that time. It takes courage to share your story, especially with so much honesty. It is simply not a choice anyone wants to make.
Ashley
April 28, 2019 at 2:20 amThank you 🥺💔
Sophia
March 27, 2019 at 3:20 pmI have to go through a second one and I don’t know what to do. I need advice from someone, anyone. No one understands what I’m feeling, I hate myself for this. I don’t want to go through an abortion again.
Kara
March 28, 2019 at 5:48 amI’m sending love your way, dear one. 13 years later I still cry for my baby. I wish I had advice or something magical to say to make everything all better…I don’t. Would adoption be something you could manage? So many people would love to give that little one a home. All the best to you <3
Rose
March 30, 2019 at 10:43 pmI too am going through my second one and I feel absolutely horrible, so I completely understand what you are feeling. I found out I was pregnant today and through the tears, I scheduled the appointment. I am not in a relationship with the indivdual that I am pregnant with and nor do I want to be as it is a toxic relationship. I am experiencing so much guilt and pain going through this again, especially since I am 32 years old with no children and two months away from completing my masters. I know this choice that I am making will be the hardest but I know in the long run, I will be saving my child from being born into a dysfunction environment… I at least owe my child that.
Kim
May 4, 2019 at 3:45 amI recently just had my second abortion in 9 months . This was with the same toxic individual that I got pregnant the first time with . He abandoned me and hung up on me when I told him a few weeks ago. And I haven’t heard from him since. He doesn’t know the end result, nor do I feel that he deserves to. I have so much pain and hurt in my heart. I don’t understand how someone who has children already, can be so selfish and cold hearted. If anyone has any advice, please send it my way. I’m very open about discussing this, but it’s been difficult. Even my close friends don’t know this time.
AH
May 29, 2019 at 6:14 pmTell your friends, I don’t have many friends but I’ve told my closest ones…. And while sometimes they are not always as sensitive to the subject as I’d like (not on purpose) it feels so relieving to tell someone….
Claire
March 31, 2019 at 1:36 amThis might be a bit forward and seem strange of me but I have been through this twice before so if you would like someone to talk to or any support you are welcome to contact me anytime x
Shan
May 18, 2019 at 8:11 amYou are amazing.
Og
March 19, 2019 at 6:54 pmI just had mine this afternoon. I feel so torn apart. So heartbroken. I wish I could have kept him/her. I already felt so attached. Thanks for this wonderful piece.
Ashley
April 28, 2019 at 2:05 amI felt empty after too, 10 years later and I still have regret. I miss my baby. 🥺
Ashley
May 16, 2019 at 9:30 amMy name is also Ashley and im also at the 10 year mark. I miss my baby every minute of every day.
S.A
February 14, 2019 at 1:58 pmThank you and to all the the comments
LC
December 26, 2018 at 3:11 pmThank you for this. I am not waiting for my appointment in about 10 days for now. I have been scouring the internet for stories because keep either seeing people who wanted to do it and doesn’t regret it, or people who regret it all together. The emotions you displayed in this article made me cry because it is exactly how I feel. I don’t want to do this, but the dad is not ready and I am not able to care for a child alone at this point. I too, am at the beginning of my career and am receiving more opportunities to advance as well but I have a long way to go. I am sad because I already have a connection with the child in my belly and I cry everyday thinking about the fact that I won’t be able to hold him or her or see their face. Thanks again for this though, I wish you the best and it’s great to know I am not alone.
Courtney
December 26, 2018 at 12:24 pmI am 29, and I had a medical abortion at 6 weeks on December 6th of this year. The month before was the most emotionally and physically exhausting of my life. Every night I went to bed, I cried. I felt a sense of love and attachment to the baby I knew I had to let go. It is a very heartbreak-ling sad feeling.
I couldn’t relate more to this paragraph you wrote:
‘I go to sleep the same way I have every night since I found out about you: heartbroken and tearful. I cry. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to let you go. I’ve always wanted to be a mom, and already, I feel like I know you — and yet I can’t have you.’
Joan
February 17, 2019 at 11:53 pmI am so sorry you had to go through this. No matter how much support one has, it can so easily feel like you are going through it alone. I have seen many of my patients go through something similar and it is never easy. I hope you are healing well and have found happiness in other ways, until one day you and your unborn baby see each other again.
Joan
February 17, 2019 at 11:59 pmI am so sorry you had to go through this. Even if you have others’ support around you, it can so easily feel like you’re going through it alone. Many of my patients have gone through the same thing, and it is never easy. I am unable to have children, so I will never know what it feels like, but I share your pain through the experiences of others. I hope you are healing well and have found happiness in other areas of life, until you and your unborn baby see each other again.
Colleen
August 10, 2018 at 9:07 amI read this the night before my appointment for my abortion. It was my first pregnancy, my husband is deployed, and I just happened to be going through this process physically alone (minus a couple friends there for support).
Since I found out I was pregnant my life has been a living hell… my husband immediately voiced we couldn’t handle this right now, and though I was emotional about it at first, I knew he was right.
However, reading this, even though it did make me cry, also made me realize I could look at this moment as something to grow from and not just bury it away as a bad memory. I do wish I would’ve had more support during this time, mainly because my husband shut down due to his circumstances, but it has gone to show me just how strong I am… and how much stronger I can be.
Thank you for sharing
Ashley
August 8, 2018 at 10:21 amI had my abortion at 5 weeks and 1 day i knew it was the right thing to do but i did want my baby … I was scared but overwhelmed i didnt want to go thru what i did i remember a time i was for abortion but until u have to go thru one u have no right to talk i too also got my sonogram which was supposed to be a joyful experience it still was because wow it was beautiful .i love and hope to see my baby one day ..
Em
August 1, 2018 at 2:05 amThank you for sharing. I feel like its hard to find forums where women aren’t either all regret or all confidant/fine with their decision. I am so sad that I will never meet that child, but I also know that it would have been less than what we all deserved. I don’t want to undo my choice, but it’s still so hard to live with sometimes. I’m so scared though, because I’m no longer with my boyfriend… I won’t get to meet that baby anymore, if it happens it will be with someone else, most likely.
Emily
October 23, 2018 at 4:21 amI found out I was pregnant exactly two years ago this weekend. I remember my boyfriend and I sitting in the car one evening and wondering aloud what it would look like- would it have my eyes, or his nose? A boy or a girl? I still wonder what if. Each holiday, any milestone or time marker, what my world would be if I had chosen differently. But I don’t regret it either. I believe that ultimately, our babies are still with us in a spirit. Just like our loved ones that preceded us. Your baby will always be with you, even if your boyfriend isn’t.
Katy
July 29, 2018 at 6:04 amThank you for sharing. The last paragraph brought tears to my eyes. I had an abortion at 5 weeks 6 days, pill as well. I did it because I loved that little soul so much that I knew he deserved better. Sending love your way.
Shay
March 29, 2019 at 4:42 pmAm i allowed to feel i did it for the baby? In my heart i know that baby would have deserved better, but is it ok to feel THat way?
Ashley
April 28, 2019 at 2:19 amI think when we choose to do something like that we are so confused. I was very confused. I didn’t want anyone in the world to have my baby, I didn’t want the guy that knocked me up to have my baby and I also felt a little pushed by his mother to have the abortion so instead of keeping him or her for myself I killed my baby. I feel like the world makes us feel weak, like we can’t handle both our dreams and a child that will love us and need us more than we could understand. Just my thoughts… 🥺💔
EY
July 27, 2018 at 8:22 pmJocelyn, I can’t thank you enough for sharing your story. This is my first time reading a story that actually resonates with the bittersweetness if my own experience. Thank you for your bravery!
Taylor
July 24, 2018 at 7:27 pmThank you so much for this. I recently experienced my first pregnancy, at 19 years of age and with four years of nursing school ahead of me. I chose to have an abortion for many reasons, including those I just mentioned. I am really struggling with the choice, even though I know it made most sense. Like you, I was always so excited to become a Mom and I felt a sincere connection as soon as I found out I was pregnant. So many of the feelings you described in your post match mine, and as I read, I finally felt something other than ‘alone.’ Thank you again.