The Grief of Abortion
January 22nd
Last year in May, my life was flipped upside down in the worst way I can possibly imagine at this stage of my life. 2018 was one of the hardest years for me to get through and yet at the same time it carries a lot of precious memories for me.
It’s hard to try and look back on it and see the positive but I know they’re there. It’s hard to focus on anything when I’m having a bad day and it feels like someone’s stomping on my chest and the tears won’t come.
I’m having a really bad day today and I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s triggered it or why I feel this way – most importantly, I don’t know how to fix it. I’ve been in therapy since mid-July and finally made the decision to go down in sessions, I felt I was ready. Even though, I’m now having a bad day, I still feel like I was ready.
I’m writing this to try and work through my anxiety and maybe let out all these emotions that for some reason I can’t let myself feel right now.
It was a dreadful week – knowing I was late and feeling my body change throughout this week. I tried to wait to take a pregnancy test, I wanted to give my body one more week to get my period… but in the back of my head I knew something wasn’t right.
I was at a festival for work when I whispered to my colleague, ‘I think I might be pregnant’… and she said ‘Surely not? You would feel it! Your body would feel different! I’m sure you’re not, don’t worry!’. I nodded, but to myself I thought, ‘I have felt my body change’.
The day after I decided to pick up a pregnancy test when I was drunk – I couldn’t bring myself to do it when sober. It was the cheapest test I could find. I guess it was my way of hoping it would lie to me. I could avoid the truth just a little while longer.
On the Sunday morning, I sat in the bathroom and took my first pregnancy test with shaky hands. It was the most dreadful four minutes, waiting for those lines to appear. When I finally allowed myself to look I saw one very clear line, and one a bit vaguer – looking at the results instructions this meant the test had failed.
I still tried to lie to myself. I wanted to make myself believe that this would suffice and it meant I wasn’t pregnant. I knew it wasn’t right and I had to leave the house in about an hour to go support my friend as she ran a half marathon.
I started drinking as much water as I could and sat on the toilet, waiting to take the second test. Timer set on my phone and scrolling through Instagram as I wait for the results.
I’ll never forget how it felt to see the positive test… it felt like everything I ever knew shattered. I knew immediately I didn’t want to keep it – as selfish as I still feel for making this decision, there was no other way.
I texted my friend who was running the half marathon, the only one that knew I was taking my test that morning. I told her ‘It’s positive…’, she said ‘Fuck.’
Exactly.
I went upstairs and called a friend, she couldn’t even understand what I was saying because I was sobbing so much. All I could think to myself was, ‘How did you get into this fucking mess?’
The realisation of being 22, alone and pregnant installed a fear in me that hasn’t left since.
I went to watch the half marathon, to support my friend but I couldn’t bear to speak to anyone. I was crying silently and hiding it behind my sunglasses for the next four hours – when we finally met her at the finish line, she didn’t celebrate her achievement. She ran over to me and gave me a hug, I just started sobbing in her arms.
At this point, I was still undecided whether or not I should tell the father. My only reasoning for not telling him was that I didn’t wanna ruin his life, the way I felt I had ruined mine.
It’s hard to try and look back on it and see the positive but I know they’re there. It’s hard to focus on anything when I’m having a bad day and it feels like someone’s stomping on my chest and the tears won’t come.
I’m having a really bad day today and I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s triggered it or why I feel this way – most importantly, I don’t know how to fix it. I’ve been in therapy since mid-July and finally made the decision to go down in sessions, I felt I was ready. Even though, I’m now having a bad day, I still feel like I was ready.
I’m writing this to try and work through my anxiety and maybe let out all these emotions that for some reason I can’t let myself feel right now.
It was a dreadful week – knowing I was late and feeling my body change throughout this week. I tried to wait to take a pregnancy test, I wanted to give my body one more week to get my period… but in the back of my head I knew something wasn’t right.
I was at a festival for work when I whispered to my colleague, ‘I think I might be pregnant’… and she said ‘Surely not? You would feel it! Your body would feel different! I’m sure you’re not, don’t worry!’. I nodded, but to myself I thought, ‘I have felt my body change’.
The day after I decided to pick up a pregnancy test when I was drunk – I couldn’t bring myself to do it when sober. It was the cheapest test I could find. I guess it was my way of hoping it would lie to me. I could avoid the truth just a little while longer.
On the Sunday morning, I sat in the bathroom and took my first pregnancy test with shaky hands. It was the most dreadful four minutes, waiting for those lines to appear. When I finally allowed myself to look I saw one very clear line, and one a bit vaguer – looking at the results instructions this meant the test had failed.
I still tried to lie to myself. I wanted to make myself believe that this would suffice and it meant I wasn’t pregnant. I knew it wasn’t right and I had to leave the house in about an hour to go support my friend as she ran a half marathon.
I started drinking as much water as I could and sat on the toilet, waiting to take the second test. Timer set on my phone and scrolling through Instagram as I wait for the results.
I’ll never forget how it felt to see the positive test… it felt like everything I ever knew shattered. I knew immediately I didn’t want to keep it – as selfish as I still feel for making this decision, there was no other way.
I texted my friend who was running the half marathon, the only one that knew I was taking my test that morning. I told her ‘It’s positive…’, she said ‘Fuck.’
Exactly.
I went upstairs and called a friend, she couldn’t even understand what I was saying because I was sobbing so much. All I could think to myself was, ‘How did you get into this fucking mess?’
The realisation of being 22, alone and pregnant installed a fear in me that hasn’t left since.
I went to watch the half marathon, to support my friend but I couldn’t bear to speak to anyone. I was crying silently and hiding it behind my sunglasses for the next four hours – when we finally met her at the finish line, she didn’t celebrate her achievement. She ran over to me and gave me a hug, I just started sobbing in her arms.
At this point, I was still undecided whether or not I should tell the father. My only reasoning for not telling him was that I didn’t wanna ruin his life, the way I felt I had ruined mine.