How My Abortion Enabled Me To Be A Better Mother

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A few days later, we were in the car, Kiddo in the car seat in the back of his Dodge Neon. We were on our way to the Planned Parenthood. When we got there, it was blessedly free of protesters. I don’t know what I would have done if they had been there that morning. I probably would have ended up screaming at them, asking them if they were going to pay for not only this baby but the one I already had. Were they going to babysit while I looked for a job? Were they going to watch these babies while I got some sleep? Were they going to find us a place to live? Those people. Screw those people. They were lucky they were not there that day. I was in no mood to be called a murderer for doing what was right for me and my daughter. I was not murdering my child. My child was already here, alive, breathing, laughing, crying, growing. What was inside me only had the potential to become a baby. How was that potential life more important than the life I was already caring for?

The clinic buzzed us in. We were the first ones in that morning. Dave and Kiddo sat in the waiting area as a nice woman brought me to an exam room and had me fill out some paperwork. I was still shaky.  A little while later, they did another pregnancy test to confirm my results. Then, the doctor did an ultrasound. She asked if I wanted to see the screen and I said no. I knew I needed an abortion and I didn’t need to see anything. She estimated I was about six weeks along.

After going over my options with the doctor, I decided to go with the medical abortion. I didn’t want a surgical abortion. I wanted to do this privately and so I decided the abortion pill was the right method for me. The doctor agreed and we made an appointment for me to come back in two days, after she got some lab results back.

Dave drove us home. In the car outside my house, I thanked him. He squeezed my hand and told me it was the least he could do. He wrote me a check for the cost. We sat there for a few minutes. I looked over at him and sighed. “We’re not dating anymore, are we?”

He looked down for a bit, “No. I’m sorry. This was never serious in the first place. We both agreed on that. After all this, there’s no way for it to be anything but serious. I’m not ready for that. Are you ready for that?”

I shook my head. “No. I like you a lot, but I don’t think I can handle this on top of everything else.”

He smiled and leaned over and gave me hug. “That’s OK. I get it. You got a lot going on. I’m here, though. I’m still your friend.”

So, in the course of a few days I had decided to not only end a pregnancy, but also end a relationship. We both knew it wasn’t going to end in marriage and babies. We both knew we weren’t going to be together forever. We were friends who were going through similar crap. It had been a nice few weeks together, but this scare made us both realize we weren’t ready for anything serious. I needed to be single for a while. I needed to be alone. I needed to take care of Kiddo. He needed the same thing.

Two days later my mother waited in the clinic waiting room with Kiddo while the doctor went over what was going to happen after I started the medication. I would take the first pill now. She would also give me some antibiotics that I would start to take after the pill. The first pill would block the hormone known as progesterone. This is the hormone responsible for maintaining a pregnancy. Without it, the lining of my uterus would start to break down, my cervix would soften and I may start to bleed.

I would take another set of pills a few days later. These pills would cause my uterus to empty, completing the process. The doctor told me I could go home after taking the pills if I wanted to, but to stay near a phone so I could check in. She expected me to pass the fetus and gestational sac within a few hours of taking the second round of medications.

I took the first pill and went home. The next day I had some light spotting and some cramps. It felt like a light period. Another day went by, and then I went back to the clinic for my second round of medications. I was given the pills, some ibuprofen, a list of warning signs should anything serious occur, and a 24-hour phone number I could reach my doctor at. She told me to call as soon as I passed the pregnancy. I asked it her what it would look like and she told me I would pass one or two big clots, and then I would bleed for probably another week or two. I set up a follow up appointment, and went to my mother’s.

A few hours later and I was glued to the toilet seat. My cramps were worse, but the ibuprofen was helping. I felt a bit nauseated and so I kept a trashcan at my feet. My mother looked after Kiddo, occasionally opening the door to check in and to tell me she loved me. I got off the toilet and napped for a while, wearing what could only be described as the biggest menstrual pad in existence. I had already been through 3 of them since that morning.

Right as I was about to try and eat some dinner, I felt I needed to go to the bathroom. I sat down, peed, and felt something fall out of me into the water below. I looked down, and saw a large clot floating there. I gave a little push and then another. I cramped up, groaned, gave one more push and felt another clot pass. I cleaned myself up, replaced my pad, and called the doctor. I told her what I had seen and she said everything sounded normal.

The pregnancy was over.

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