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I'm 22 and my baby should have been born February 2...

April 12, 2018

“I'm 22 and my baby should have been born February 2... I am 22 and have been with my boyfriend for 4 years. On June 11 I found out that I was 8 weeks pregnant. I knew that I was before I took the test. I couldn't drink coffee or even think about food without feeling nauseous and was lucky if I could force down 1 meal a day. But I saw that little plus.

 

I immediately sent a picture to my best friend and she told me that wasn't definitive, sometimes it can look like a plus and not be true. I instantly went to the store and bought 3 different kinds of digital tests. I took all 3 over the course of an hour and all of them came back with Pregnant, 4+ weeks'.

 

I called and booked an abortion at the closest clinic which is a 2 hour drive. When I booked it I couldn't even say the word 'abortion'. I was numb and terrified at the same time.

 

My boyfriend and I had previously discussed what we would want to do if I got pregnant, but I was on the pill so we thought I was safe. Then I called my boyfriend and asked him to come home as he was at a friends house. He came home and we sat down on the couch and I didn't know how to say it so I said 'don't worry, I've already made the call to get it taken care of but... I'm pregnant.'

 

As soon as I said those words tears welled up in my eyes but I didn't think I had the right to be upset about it. It was my decision. It sounds strange but I swear I could feel a little something in my lower abdomen that I haven't felt since I got the procedure.

 

I went to my doctor and as soon as I walked in I said 'I want to get an abortion and need to know if I can get it done in [my home town]'. He was surprised and made me take another test just to confirm. I peed on yet another stick and he came back less than a minute later and confirmed what I already knew. He sent me to get an ultrasound and they showed me the little bean. It was the worse moment of my life, knowing that I was never going to see it live.

 

I decided to tell my normally very supportive mother and she broke down and told me how disappointed in my she was. That was the day I officially moved out.

 

The hospital in my town called. They could book me in for a month and a half from then. I decided this wasn't soon enough. I was vomiting every hour and crying nearly as often. Soon after this, my boyfriend and I drove to the clinic 2 hours away for my consultation. They preformed yet another ultrasound and told me they could book me in for a week later, June 29. 'That's too soon' I thought. 'I need more time'. But instead, I agreed and left.

 

Leading up to the procedure I often cradled my stomach and sang to it. I even named it. I think it was a girl. I named her Elise Olive after my favorite song and my recently deceased grandmother.

 

Eventually the day for my procedure came. My boyfriend drove the 2 hours to get me to my appointment and waited in the waiting room for the 45 minutes that it took. I remember everything. I remember which room I went into and the feeling of the needle. I remember asking what they had injected me with and the nurse listed off a concoction of painkillers. I remember the room beginning to spin and the flower decals on the window beginning to spin. I remember the nurse standing at my head to hold my hand. I was so thankful for her as she squeezed my hand and quietly reassured me that it was almost done.

 

I remember the feeling of scraping and knowing what was happening. What I was doing. I remember being done and putting on my pad and underwear and going to the recovery room for 10 minutes until they were sure my bleeding was manageable. I remember hearing a woman in the bed next to me quietly crying. I remember both of the nurses grabbing one arm each and supporting me to walk back down the hallway to my boyfriend. I remember getting in the car and feeling like a zombie. I wasn't feeling anything at all. I fell asleep shortly after.

 

I had to go back to the clinic for a check up 2 weeks later. My boyfriend was working and could not attend with me. I sat in the waiting room alone with rising anxiety, remembering what I did last time I was there. Despite having several exam rooms in the building they brought me back into the room that I had the procedure done in. I was unsuccessfully fighting back tears and a panic attack as they completed the check up and gave me the all clear.

 

I ran out of that clinic and sat in my car until I calmed down. I pulled out of the parking lot and stopped at the lights, ready to begin my 2 hour drive home. Directly across the intersection there was a group of people holding signs. I dont know why but it didnt clue in to what they were until I drove past and looked at what the signs said. I instantly began sobbing. I pulled over to try to compose myself but that was unsuccessful so I pulled back onto the road and cried the entire way back home.

 

I'm so sorry Elise Olive. I think about you every day. I hope you understand why I did what I did. Please forgive me-Your mommy.”  —Anonymous

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