I vividly recall the moment I realized I was pregnant. It was a breezy afternoon, and I was lounging on the porch with my closest friend. We were discussing typical girl topics when the conversation shifted to menstrual cycles. I had always been regular, like clockwork, so when I started counting back, the realization hit me hard: “I last had my period six weeks ago.”
In that instant, a wave of dread washed over me. I couldn’t even bring myself to say the words in my mind, fearing the reality they represented. My upbringing had been steeped in religion, and while I no longer practiced, I still held certain beliefs close to my heart. Life was sacred, beautiful, and meaningful. Yet there I was, on the brink of a decision that felt monumental.
At just 23 years old, I was days away from graduating college, with plans to pursue graduate studies shortly after. A child was not part of my immediate future. I lived far from my family, who would likely shame me for being unwed and pregnant, pressuring me to either keep the baby or give it up. The thought of being ostracized was suffocating, particularly since the identity of the father was ambiguous. There were multiple possibilities, and the idea of navigating paternity issues was daunting.
The decision to have an abortion became clear to me almost immediately. I had always believed it was wrong, yet I felt no remorse about making this choice. I was unwilling to derail my life’s path or invite the hardships that could come with an unplanned pregnancy.
The procedure itself was painful, far more so than typical menstrual cramps. It reminded me of a miscarriage I experienced later, waking up to find my body had expelled the pregnancy overnight, leaving behind a painful reminder. After the procedure, guilt settled in, filling the void left by the absence of that child. I carried this guilt with me for years, alongside my other children. This terminated pregnancy became my longest experience of motherhood, intertwined with my existing family.
Despite the guilt, I recognize that the decision I made was ultimately the right one. Had I chosen differently, my life would be unrecognizable. I wouldn’t have met my husband, nor would I have the two wonderful children I cherish today. I have a deep respect for women who face the challenges of motherhood at a young age, often with immense courage.
I had imagined my child as a boy and even gave him a name—a name that carried both love and an unshakable sense of punishment. The irony is, after the abortion, I faced fertility issues that make me feel as if I am being punished for the choice I made. My desire for another child now feels thwarted, and sometimes I wonder if this is my penance.
This internal conflict often stems from my religious upbringing. A part of me believes in a cosmic balance of sorts, where choices lead to consequences. Yet my heart whispers that divine judgment isn’t so simplistic.
Reflecting on that time, I realize I made the best decision I could with the knowledge and resources available to me. I navigated that experience alone, without sharing my burden with anyone. I moved forward to achieve a successful academic career, a fulfilling job, and a loving family. I avoided a path that might have been fraught with challenges I wasn’t prepared for.
Over time, I’ve become more comfortable acknowledging my abortion. I can speak about it without the fear that once engulfed me. However, I still find it difficult to fully embrace that part of my experience. The emotions are tangled, and the absence of that child is a palpable void in my life.
For anyone navigating similar feelings, it’s important to know you’re not alone. Resources like Intracervical Insemination and Cryobaby Home Intracervical Insemination Kit can provide support, and this guide on the IVF process offers valuable insights.
Summary:
In revisiting my experience with abortion, I confront the complex emotions of guilt and relief. While I made a decision I believe was right for my life, the lingering feelings remind me of the challenges many women face. Acknowledging these emotions is part of my journey, as is recognizing that I am not alone in this experience.