measi's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- a bit more personal... With Hoolie's and Mandy's pregnancy announcements lately, I'm finding that I'm reflecting on my own experiences... which are definitely not fond ones. I wrote this for another LMAO on nervousness.org a couple months ago, and off and on, it's been milling about in my mind. It particularly does during my period, like it is this week. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ March 28th An adoptee's abortion Like my two fellow contributors, I also have had an abortion. I don't think I�m quite in the grieving stage they appear to be in, and I wish them all the compassion and strength possible to overcome the pain they are feeling. Not to say that it ever goes away. But it cannot become a cancer on the soul. First (before I get into the details of my own experience), let me sum up the twists in my story which made it difficult, yet necessary, to deal with the post-operation pain right away: My father is an OB/GYN, and I am an adoptee myself with no knowledge of my biological parents. Like my father, I am fiercely pro-choice, although I always stipulated that if I personally ever had to make the choice, I'd never be able to go through with an abortion. That was, of course, until I was faced with the issue of an unplanned pregnancy in Oct. 1997. At the time, I was only a few months out of college, just starting a new job, and living with two college roommates. One, Jason, and I had been intimate in an extremely dysfunctional "friends with benefits" relationship for about a year. During one particular night around late September of that year, Jason and I were irresponsible (probably intoxicated) and decided not to use protection. I knew three days later that I was pregnant. I could just SENSE it. I told Jason, and the fear in his eyes matched my own. He bought a pregnancy test, and it came out positive. Both of us were devastated. Jason and I are both adoptees. He knows (and currently lives with) his birthmother. I do not. We both love kids, want to have kids, and celebrate the joys and sorrows that come with having a family. But NOT like this. Neither of us was ready, emotionally or financially, to become a parent. He was still in college, and I was in a dead-end secretary job that barely covered my living expenses. But at the same time, we knew that neither of us could give a child up for adoption, having gone through the pain and fear as children from the experience. We knew what it was to be abandoned. We couldn't do it to another human being. So we decided to go for the abortion, even though it wrenched both of us deeply. Religiously, we come from completely separate worlds�he's Catholic. I'm Pagan. But we knew that doing this was breaking the laws of harming another living thing for BOTH of our faiths. The only reconciliation we could find was a mutual belief in reincarnation of the soul, and that even though the physical body of the fetus would be destroyed, the soul would live on and come again to Earth to parents who COULD nurture and care for him/her. But Gods were we ashamed. I think at the time Jason more so than me�only because I'd emotionally shut down under the weight of it all. He asked me not to tell anyone, and I agreed. I DIDN'T want anyone to know. Particularly my parents who I was convinced would disown me for making such horrible judgment in becoming pregnant through unprotected sex. I'd seen the anger and frustration on my father's face far too many times when he'd come home from the office or the hospital after dealing with teenage pregnancies. He grieved for the girls who had placed themselves in that situation. I didn't want my parents to know I'd failed. On Nov. 7, 1997, Jason and I headed to the clinic where I'd scheduled my appointment. I dreaded going in there�dealing with the protesters outside and the security detectors inside the door. Knowing that at this clinic only a bit less than five years before, a crazed man named John Salvi had opened fire, killing two and injuring several others. It's a tainted building with a sense of fear lingering within every brick. I was awake but sedated during the procedure. I remember images but cannot string events together. As Jason said, my body was there. My mind had shut down to survive. And although I survived it, it was a long battle to forgive myself for making the choice. For the better part of three years, I felt unclean and tainted. In my mind, a big Scarlet "A" was burned into my heart. I felt no man would love me again. Jason was unable to deal with post-abortion mental pain, and our friendship crumbled. I hardly talk to him at all any more. And without his support, I felt powerless in my own pain�how could I talk to anyone and feel like I wasn't completely alone? I learned to write my thoughts, reread them, and consider them. Over time, I saw that I WAS slowly healing and used that to rebuild my self-esteem. Looking back, I do not regret the choice I made. It was the only one I felt I could live with. What's done is done, and I cannot punish myself for something that cannot be undone. But at the same time, I would make a choice to keep the child if the same situation happened again. My life at 27 is incredibly different than at 22. While I have not told my parents (and never intend to), my love of my life, Erich, DOES know, and understands without prejudice. I no longer feel tainted. But I will forever wonder about the soul of my never-born child. 11:02 a.m. - 6 June 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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