In the news today: U.S. recession linked to more abortions,…

I was 16 years old. I was given a new name and then was drugged…I didn’t like the IV. My dad held my hand but I started to get really fidgety. They upped my drug dosage. I was wheeled away. I was so cold, but they gave me a blanket. I counted backwards from 100…99…98…

The end.

The end of my first baby’s life.

It was always weird for me when I was pregnant with my first born, because people would always ask, “is this your first?” I hated that question. I didn’t know how to answer.

“Um, no, I killed my first baby, this will be my second.” That wouldn’t work. “My first is in heaven.” That won’t work either, people will think I miscarried. I landed on, “This is my husband and I’s first.”

Its been 13 years since I had my abortion. Even though I have been forgiven and set free from the bondage I was once in, the memories of that time in my life and my fateful decision still hurt so deeply upon remembrance.

I’ll never forget when I called to tell my dad I was pregnant. He was so kind and loving towards me. I’ll also never forget the words out of my grandmother’s mouth when I told her the same thing, “I’ll take care of it.” What? “No, I’m keeping the baby.”

Three months later she had “it” taken care of.

The three months I was pregnant when I was 16 were probably the three hardest months of my life. I was very sick, I felt very alone, and I was being torn in directions I wasn’t prepared for. Everyone had a solution to my “problem,” but no one wanted to hear mine. I wanted to keep the baby…at first. I figured I could get married and start a family. After talking with others and them telling me how I would miss such important things if I had a baby, like prom, I thought it would be better if I gave the baby to someone who couldn’t have children. Nope, people didn’t like that idea either. During this time, my mom totally checked out of the situation. She almost became numb to the whole thing. She had her own demons to deal with and couldn’t handle mine. My dad, a wonderful father, had decided that abortion probably was the better choice. I don’t think he really believed that, but he had pressures of his own. One person in my life even wanted the baby for themselves, but I couldn’t bear that person raising my child. Did I mention that my grandmother, who I thought was my “best friend,” stopped talking to me during this time? She wouldn’t even look at me. The final straw was when my other grandmother came to visit me. She convinced me that having an abortion really would be the best decision. She spoke to me so kindly and she showed me love. I was desperate for any signs that I was lovable at that point, so I agreed right then and there to have an abortion.

I went to see the doctor who would perform the abortion. He had the nerve to tell me,”only a fool makes the same mistake twice.” He seemed so wise…I wonder how many mistakes he’s performed over his lifetime.

The night before the “procedure” I asked the baby to forgive me. I held my tummy and cried.

The day arrived and my dad accompanied me to the hospital. Yes, the hospital, not the local abortion clinic. The doctor thought I would do better being at a hospital where I could be totally put out…drugged to unawareness. He even had my name changed so there would be no record that I had an abortion…I did have a fairly prominent family. That afternoon I didn’t have an abortion, Sandy Charles did. Sandy Charles gave up hope that day…Sandy Charles let them stick a needle in her arm, drugs in her veins, and a murderer into her private domain. Sandy Charles offered her baby up for slaughter.

I slept for two days. When I woke up I was at my grandmothers, the one who wouldn’t speak to me before but was now serving me toast with a smile. I had moved in with her…it was better that way. I ate the toast. Nothing was ever spoken about my abortion. It was a new day. It was like it never happened.

To be continued… (read part 2 of my story here)

Under the fierce fluorescent

she offered her hand for me to hold

she offered stability and calm

and i was crushing her palm

through the pinch-pull wincing

my smile unconvincing

on that sterile battlefield that sees

only casualties

never heroes

my heart hit absolute zero

-Ani Defranco

Posted on Tuesday, April 21st, 2009 and journaled under Uncategorized. Follow the coffee talks on this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a Coffee Talk or trackback from your own site. Keep up with Like a Warm Cup of Coffee by subscribing here.