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September 16th, 2017...

May 13, 2018

September 16th, 2017. That makes 7 months & 27 days since I decided to send god's gift to me back home. May 13th, 2018, Mother’s Day, marks my would-of-been due date. I haven't told this story to anyone, the only one who knows this is my fiance, but I think I'm finally ready.

 

I found out I was pregnant on September 5th, my period was a day late and I started to feel sick days before, so my s/o and I thought I was best to take a test. We were really hoping the test was going to come out negative, you see we’re only 20 and 21 years old with a two-year-old daughter.

 

We were living with roommates and only had one room and not making enough to take care of another child. I was going to start back to school and was also working a full-time job while my fiance worked over nights and barely able to spend time with our daughter now. We wanted more children just not right now.

 

I went to the store and grab a test and went to the bathroom right away and it came up blurry but it did show positive, so I brought it home and showed him the test. We decided to take the second one because of the blurriness, two solid blue lines this time. My heart dropped, we've talked about if the test came out positive that he thinks we should have an abortion because of our finances and living situation. We were barely making enough to take care of our child that's already here and I understood that, I have been repeating that in my head every minute of every day since the day I found out about the pregnancy till now. I agreed with him that this was what was best for our family, at least that's what I was saying, but it wasn't I was thinking.

 

Every second I had alone while I pregnant I would talk to my unborn and tell him or her that I’m sorry and I'm trying to figure out a way that we could somehow make this work, but I couldn't. I knew the fact was that if I had my child we would probably be worse financially, but also if I had my child my heart would be whole. I already felt a connection with my unborn even though I tried to be detached, I was born to be a mother and my natural reflexes took over and I was already in love.

 

I went to the clinic by myself, I made my s/o stay home, he really wanted to come but if I was going to go through with this he couldn't be there. My first appointment was on September 12th, 2017 this was when they confirmed my pregnancy and gave me my first therapy session. Doctors schedule me for a medical abortion for September 16th. That meant I had four more days of holding this beautiful life inside of me. Each day went faster than the last. I wanted it all to slow down, I wanted the minutes to stop, and everything to be still, but eventually it was time for the appointment.

 

I cried every minute of the way there, my heart has never raced as fast as it was that day. They make you go back and forth to different people before you get the actual abortion. First they check your weight, heart rate. Then they send you to billing/insurance, next will be a therapy session then, abortion. When I was talking with the therapist she helped me talk through my decision and my reasons. And I knew I was making a good choice for my daughter and myself. I stayed positive while we talked and eventually sent me back to wait for the doctor.

 

I was shaking, my heart was in my stomach. Every single part of me said run, leave, don’t do this. This isn't you. You love this baby, you'll figure out. You've did it once you can again. I had to shove it all down when they called my name. I never wanted to have another name more than ever before.

 

They brought me back to this room where they explain how the dosage works. I was only half paying attention, honestly I was everywhere, I’ve never experienced anxiety that strong. Once the doctor finished telling me the instructions he went to get the pill. It takes me a couple minutes of holding the pill in my hand before I swallow it.

 

I take the second pill home and leave the doctor office. Tears started running down my cheeks, they haven't stopped running since. Once I got home I started to feel the cramps. Hours later the blood started. Each time I went to the bathroom my heart broke more and more. I never felt like such a monster. Seeing clumps of my unborn child, I’ll never get that out of my head. It was a very painful night, I bled for weeks.

 

Now it's May 13th, 2018, Mother’s Day. I’m coping with my decision, I wouldn’t say I’m over it. Or that I don't feel guilt, or even that I don't regret because I do, but I also know it was the choice I needed to make, so I can make sure my daughter didn't have a hard life. If I could go back and change it, I would but I can't, so I will learn how to cope with it and this was the first start. Thank you for reading.”   —Anonymous

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