Empowerment

“Sometimes I still feel like a monster” #MyAbortionStory

May 13 2015
monstruo

We never had the conversation of what would happen if I got pregnant, but he knew my stands on abortion and he never said I would have to get rid of it. Once it happened that’s exactly what he said.

I was 20, he was four years older. We had sex without a condom once and he came inside of me. It was one time in a moment of love and passion, and that’s how I got a pregnant. I believed in him, in our relationship. I always thought whatever happen would happen out of love, and we’d both love it, it’d be a product of love.

I’m one of those weird people that are very in-tune with their body. I was hanging out with my best friend and I told her I wanted cranberry juice. But it wasn’t just that I wanted it, I was craving it so much, I could taste the cold cranberry juice in my mouth and it felt so good. I knew something was odd, I knew I was pregnant.

“Have you missed your period?” she asked. I hadn’t. She said I was jut being paranoid, kind of like that would never happen to one of us.

I worked at a day care and for no reason at all I started hating this Chinese kid. I hated him. I also started having morning sickness and everything stank. I couldn’t even brush my teeth in the morning because I couldn’t stand the smell of toothpaste.

“I think I’m pregnant,” I told him. We bought a pregnancy test and I took it, with him. I was happy. The test came out positive.

“Hell fucking no!” he yelled. “How can you do this to me?” Everything broke inside of me. The illusion of what I thought we had broke with his reaction.

Ironically I had waited two years to have sex with him. I was a virgin. I wanted to wait until I felt ready, until I was in love. I wanted to feel like I was with the right person.

“You’re not having this kid,” that’s all he kept saying.

I thought about being a single mom but I had no support. My mom had made it really clear to me that if I ever got pregnant she would kick me out. “Las perras para la calle,” that’s what she used to say. How could I tell my mom? Was I going to put myself through that? Was I going to put my child through that?

I also though I wanted to keep it for selfish reasons: I was looking for love and I had created it with this child. If I had her or him I was doing it for selfish reasons. I was going to bring someone into the world that wasn’t wanted by certain people. I wanted it, but I also knew what it’s like not to be wanted. I don’t feel like I was ever wanted by my parents, I was also an accidental pregnancy.

“Your mom got pregnant so we had to get married,” it’s something my father used to say to me all the time. I was made known that I wasn’t a wanted child, that my parents didn’t love me. I didn’t want to do that to my kid.

I kept trying to change my boyfriend’s mind. I wanted him to want it too.

“I want nothing to do with this,” that was his answer. “You are getting rid of it. We are not doing this. I’m not doing this.”

The night before the abortion I felt this internal battle within myself, what was I going to do. That little being wanted to live so much. It felt like it didn’t care if I didn’t want it or if we were going to struggle. It was us, that’s all that matter. I wasn’t receptive. I didn’t listen to the little being’s side.

We went to Planned Parenthood really early. If I was going to do this I wanted to be the first one there. I was just going to close my eyes, and shut my ears. If it was going to happen, it had to happen fast, because I knew I wanted to keep it. I knew having an abortion went against everything that I was.

“Number two,” the nurse called out. They don’t even user your name, they give you a number, I was number two.

I walked out of the room the first time they called me in. They sent me to see a counselor. She asked if there was anyone there with me.

“Do you want to talk to him,” she asked. I nodded. I went back to the waiting room crying.

“I can’t do this, I can’t,” I pleaded.

“Shut the fuck up, get your ass up and go back in there,” he said.

He was never like that, he had never even raised his voice at me before he found out I was pregnant.

Who are you? I thought to myself. I was in shock. I did as he said: I shut the fuck up, I got up and I went back in there.

I didn’t tell my parents, or anyone. I had told my best friend that I was pregnant but I never confirmed I was. I had to stay home for a couple of days after the abortion and I just said I wasn’t feeling well.

Afterwards I felt horrible. I had to quit my job. I couldn’t stand their little shoes, I couldn’t stand their little jackets, I couldn’t stand the way they smelled, I couldn’t stand the way they look at me…the children. All of their little faces looking up at me were just a reminder of the monster that I was. That’s how I felt for a long time, like a monster. A part of me felt like I didn’t have enough faith in God, but the bigger part of me simply felt like I had a connection with this little being and I had destroyed it.

He would never talk about the abortion. If I brought it up he would send me home. He got really abusive after that. One morning I was taking a shower in his house, I started bleeding and stuff started coming out. I called out to him; I was worried and told him maybe we needed to call a doctor. He grabbed me by my arm.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” I was speechless. I wasn’t doing anything, I was bleeding and I was worried.

I stayed with him for so long because I couldn’t believe the abuse was happening to me. Somehow I had made myself into a character and I felt like I was reading a story. This was happening to her, but not to me.

One time we got into a stupid argument, he grabbed me by my wrist and he twisted it so hard that it bruised. He threw me against the bed. Then it hit me, it wasn’t some character in a book, this was happening to me. This was not happening to fulana, it was happening to me. I was the character; I was in an abusive relationship. This was not someone, this was me. That was the end of it. I couldn’t do this to myself anymore.

It took me a long time to accept that I had made the right choice, as a parent. Still, sometimes I feel like a monster. For my child a thousand times over. I didn’t want him to feel unwanted.

I don’t think I could handle it a second time. It does a lot to a woman psychologically. To me it did, it fucked me up. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do it a second time.