The gown was rough. I didn’t expect a 600-thread count Ralph Lauren hospital gown. The reality is that it didn’t matter what I had on, I just needed a distraction from what I was about to do.
I had been feeling “weird” the last few days. I began to cry for no apparent reason. I began to nap in the ladies’ room at work because I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I was moody and downright mean for the least infraction. I just knew something was wrong with me. So when my doctor suggested he do a pregnancy test, I just laughed and remarked I didn’t understand why and didn’t worry about being pregnant because I knew I wasn’t.
That weekend, I went about my business as usual. I shared with my boyfriend that my doctor did a pregnancy test but I wasn’t worried about the result. We went about our weekend as if nothing was different but both of us thinking about the potential change to our life and relationship.
When I returned from my weekend vacation, I quietly pondered what would I do if I were pregnant. I joked about how barren I am and never even believed I could get pregnant. But I had started taking the pill again and I wasn’t taking it responsibly. And on top of that, I was having “risky” sex with two partners. I was in denial about the possibility of being pregnant. What would I do? It was just too much.
First thing that Monday morning, I called my doctor’s office to find out the results. I said a little prayer as I held on the phone waiting for the nurse to get my chart. And when she came back on the phone and congratulated me on my pregnancy, I thought I would die. I didn’t know what to do. I hung up the phone, and I sat on the sofa, and I stared into space. I needed to make a decision. The right decision for me.
Later that day, I told my partner the results of my test, and he was delighted. He loved me and wanted nothing more than to start a family with me. But I was fresh out of college and I recently quit my job. I couldn’t see the future he was talking about, and when I broke the news to him that the baby may be someone else’s, I heard his heart break.
So now I was faced with a choice. I could have the baby and raise it with its father, or I could have an abortion and maybe plan a family later down the line.
It was a long wait before the doctor came and all I could remember is how quiet the waiting room was. The unnerving silence was the hazing of our initiation into a sisterhood of choice. And we all anxiously awaited the moment we would cross the burning sands and no longer carry the burden of an unwanted pregnancy.
As I sat there, I watched each woman go behind the door to have their procedure done and I knew that when they exited the building they would be forever changed. I bare no shame for my decision. I have no problem with sharing with others the choice I made and why. I also bare no regret of my decision. I know I did the best thing for all involved.
And after waiting all morning for the doctor to show up, I am lying on the cold metal table with a rough hospital gown covering my body.
“Can you please bring your body to the edge of the table and place your feet in the stirrups.”
“Like this?”
“Perfect. Now relax. How are you today?”
“Fine.”
Then I heard a whir. And then I felt my body go numb. I don’t remember much after that other than the nurse holding my hand to comfort me. My mind was numb. I had no thoughts. And then it was done. I was no longer pregnant.
The nurse led me into a waiting room that was filled with cots and the women who were once in the waiting room were now recuperating. We had crossed our burning sands. We were sisters. Yet none of us leaped for joy.
“You will have to stay here until you bleed. I will come back and check your pad in a minute.”
So I laid there waiting for my body to respond to the abortion. It took me a while but my body responded, and I began to bleed.
My girlfriend and I drove home. She was careful with me. We talked, but not about what happened. We just talked about what I would do for the rest of the day. She went to the store after taking me home and bought me lunch, sanitary napkins and balloons – it was my birthday.
I recount this story because today is the 35th anniversary of Roe v Wade, and it was this important judicial decision that made the choice for me a choice.
I am not ashamed by my choice. I do regret the pain it may have brought upon others involved. However, I learned many a lessons from this situation and I am an advocate for a person’s choice.
I’ve never considered myself a hero or an advocate for an issue. I enjoy reading others opinions on policy. But there a few issues that move me. Inspire me even. However, when it is an issue of a woman’s right to decide what she wants to do with her body then I am front and center and locked arm and arm.
When I decided to abort my fetus, it was a private decision. I didn’t allow anyone to weigh in on my decision. What could they tell me? Have a child with someone I didn’t see a future with and be tied to them forever? Or raise a child with no father? That’s not the life I wanted to give my child. I always wanted to be married and happy when I brought a child in to the world. I wanted to give my child all the advantages to life that I didn’t have. And this was not one of those times.
I take for granted the freedoms of my life. I live in a country where, as a woman, I am afforded a lot of luxuries that others suffered for me to have. I can run for president, I can vote and I can wear whatever I damn well please. So why shouldn’t I be able to decide what to do with my body. Ever since I realized what Roe v Wade was and what women went through prior to this decision, I knew that if and when I was ever faced with that decision that I would be even more grateful to the courage and forethought it took for the justices to give a woman her choice.
And when I see teenage girls and boys marching to the Supreme Court on this monumental anniversary to protest for life, I laugh at the irony of how my choice for my life is negated by a group of individuals I hope will never have to face the choice.
Whenever I hear people debate the pro-life stance, I am always reminded of the babies who were brought into this world and were drowned, starved, microwaved and tossed into dumpsters and I wonder, did their mothers have a choice? Were they the young ladies who walked Constitution Avenueto the Supreme Court carrying signs, “Give Life, Don’t Take It.”
On a day that symbolizes a milestone for women’s rights, I take a moment to reflect on the importance of a woman being able to decide what is best for her. History has shown women have always been treated as a commodity, something that is traded on the open market. And the fact a woman had to go to the highest court in our land to secure her basic right of privacy and freedom to do what she damn well pleases with her body, is a sad moment in our history.
So while you may not agree with the theory in practice, at least respect the symbolism of the court decision and rejoice in a woman being able to decide for herself the hardest decision a woman could ever make.
Life is so special with its little pieces of irony…
