WARNING: Because of the sensitivity of this topic, I will delete any comments that I deem offensive and I will ban any one who becomes a PITA!
Once upon a time in a land far away there lived a girl named, well, Me. During a walk after an argument with her mom, Me met a boy named He. He approached her from across the street, hoping that she would take a moment to enjoy a conversation with him. She did. Not because she found him attractive, but because in the chaos of her 15-year-old life, Me was often looking for attention of some kind. She felt lonely, and unloved, and unpretty. She never fit in in her neighborhood, and even when she tried to, she could only pretend for so long. But when He stopped her, Me felt for the first time that she was not invisible.
They talked for hours, walking in secluded areas of woods and rocks. He suggested that they sit and he spread his jacket on the ground, offering Me a clean place to relax. Soon the talking turned to kissing which turned to touching and then to sex. And suddenly, Me was thrust into a 3 year relationship of fights with her mom, running away, almost flunking out of school, weed, drinking, and depression. He made her feel loved in a way that no one ever did before. He filled a void of abandonment and hate. And despite the fact that they had nothing in common, they forged a bond that Me knew was tight yet severely flawed. She knew that while college awaited her, for him education was a mystery- a secret spoken of only in the unrealistic world of Heathcliff Huxtable. Her litigation dreams and his impoverished nightmares did not mesh, but He loved Me and she wanted that love so much. Soon, she stopped fighting when he rejected protection for fear that he would disappear leaving her to fade away, lost in the shadow of disdain.
And then it happened. I found myself exhausted. Achy. Thirsty. And as I peed on the stick knowing what would soon be revealed, I cried to a friend hoping that it was a mistake. But the lines appeared faster than expected confirming that I was in fact with child. With. Child. The words echoed in my mind like church bells. I immediately called him and his “excitement” was lost in the slurs of alcohol-laced rambling. After, I raced to his house only to find his mother there alone with 3 of her 9 children, eating Kraft Mac & Cheese, drinking Hawaiian Punch, and watching TV in the living room of their small 4 bedroom apartment. And as I poured my heart out to his mother, I barely heard the faint words that rolled of her tongue without hesitation: don’t start your life like this. Don’t have a baby with my son. He has no clue what being a dad is about. She repeated them again, staring into my eyes, pouring out truths and heartaches and disappointment. Within those moments, clarity.
I made up my mind. I knew what needed to be done. I took his hand and spoke honestly about my dreams. My fears. My future. My mistakes. My selfishness in wanting to only worry about myself. I asked him to do the same. I asked him to look at his life and ponder the truths of parenting. To admit his own selfishness. And together we rode to Planned Parenthood , my dad accompanying for support. Together we sat with a counselor and together we made a choice. But even then, at 17 and a month away from college, I knew that this choice, my choice, was one of great importance. It would shape my life…
Today, I look back and know that choice is the most important right any human can have. Whether it be the choice to love, to heal, to create, that choice is what empowerment is all about. There are so many reasons I know that my choice was the best one. Choosing to have an abortion was the clarity that I needed to understand that my future is MINE. And Mine alone. It cannot and should not be tied to a moment of longing on a cold winter’s day after a teen-aged temper tantrum. I believe that no one should be forced to accept a life that is not what they envision for themselves.
My name is Kristina and I had an abortion and I am not scarred. This is Me. The Real Me!
Wow. Coming from being forced to have an abortion that wasn’t my choice I am happy to see that it can be a decision without permanent emotional scars. It is a choice – keep/don’t keep and a choice only you have to live with.
To Come undone recently posted..something honest
Twitter: callmeKristinaB
says:
The fact is that you may have arrived at that decision on your own, but you were never given the choice. So, it may not have been the abortion that gave your emotional scars, but rather the fact that your voice was stifled and your choice was taken away.
Twitter: callmeKristinaB
says:
Thank you for commenting!
Kristina,
I applaud your courage and your transparency. I think too many times, we lose our voice amid blaring protests for life or for choice. Your post cries loudly for all to hear: free will is the embodiment of empowerment. You weren’t some half-baked adolescent who used abortion as birth control. You had parents and adults involved who helped you weigh your options and respond in the manner that best suited you. There are some freedoms that are not optional–the right to make a decision is one of them.
Thanks so much for sharing.
Twitter: callmeKristinaB
says:
Thanks so much Selena. I was moved to write this after reading a post saying that all women who have abortions regret it later in life… a common argument of anti-choice advocates. The fact is that every experience is different and my story is more common that not. The funny thing is years later I found out that He was arrested for multiple counts of rape and sexual assault… I shudder to think about how different my life would have been…
You’re so right Kristina. Contrary to popular belief, not everything is black and white or so simplistic. There are shades of gray or situations that fall outside of the scope of preconceived norms. When people use terms like “all” or “most” it’s a prime indication that their argument is flawed. We each have a journey and a voice to discover and no one has the right to take that process away from anyone. Talk about hind sight is 20/20. I shudder right along with you.
Thank you so much for being brave enough to share your experience. In all of the rhetoric around pro-life or pro-choice, it is hard to hear the pure voice of those who have actually had to live it. To say that “all women who’ve made the choice regret it” is once again nothing more than rhetoric to make a political statement, without any sense of respect or grace for the women who had the experience. I applaud any woman that when faced with pregnancy gives serious thought to what that means for her life and owns the decision, whether she keeps the baby, puts it up for adoption, or has an abortion. It is equally as honorable to decide not to have a baby as it is to keep it or put it up for adoption.
I read recently about a new law in Texas that would require a woman seeking an abortion must submit to an ultrasound at least 24 hours in advance and that the doctor must provide in laymen’s terms “a medical description of the dimensions of the embryo or fetus, the presence of cardiac activity, and the presence of external members and internal organs.” This law easily passed the State House and Senate, and was signed by the Governor. This law simply breaks my heart. And PISSES ME OFF! Why is it necessary to humiliate a women in this way? Why does the state get to politicize a decision that should be exclusively her own?
More than 10 years ago, I had an abortion…ironically in the State of Texas. It was a tough decision to make. I was an adult, in law school at the time and in a committed relationship. A relationship that was soul-killing and sometimes verbally abusive. I knew that I didn’t want to have a baby with this man and that if I did, the responsibility of raising the child would likely fall solely to me anyway. This was not what I wanted my life to be…so I made a decision. A decision that I do not regret to this day.
If I were in this same situation in Texas today, I would be subjected to this government sanctioned mental abuse via the new law. I know that I would be strong enough though to still make the best choice for me. I have the level of privilege that comes with education and a certain socio-economic level. But what about my sistren without that sense of empowerment over their own bodies…the poor women, the immigrant women, the women of color, the women without a solid education, the women who have beaten up by the so-called religious right?
Those of us that can speak up, be honest, be real must do so, if not for ourselves, for the sake of our sisters who cannot. So today I stand in solidarity with you Kristina. I am not ashamed…I am not scarred…I do not regret it. I honor my decision and my spirit, and my life is richer for it.
Namaste.