Thursday, May 22, 2008
My confession
I haven't received the sacrament of reconciliation in sixteen years. The grade school I went to forced us to confess prior to Christmas and Easter. Even the few non-Catholics had to go in and talk to the priest even if they couldn't write off their misdeeds with a few Hail Marys. Unfortunately, I hadn't really done any major sinning at that point so it was kind of an exercise in futility. I figured that merciful Christ would not damn me to the fires of Hell for fighting with my little brother or whatever small-time child's play sinning I repented. In high school, we had the option of going to either study hall or confession during Advent and Lent, and I only exercised the confession option once during my freshman year. After that I got on my unfortunate radical feminist jag, and rejected Catholicism for being too patriarchal. Well, and because there's no better way to perpetrate some rebellious teen angst than declaring oneself an atheist carpet muncher at your Jesuit high school. Anyway, the last time I went to confession was when I was thirteen my first semester of high school. I don't remember the sins I sought absolution for. After that, I opted for study hall and I have ever since.
Fast-forward to the present day, and I could assuredly benefit from some quality time with a priest in a confessional. I have done a hell of a lot of sinning since the last time I got my "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned" on. You could rephrase this to say that I've done a hell of a lot of premarital, extramarital, same sex, and/or group fucking since I was thirteen. The problem with me confessing these sins is that I'm not particularly sorry about most of them. Here and there, I regret times I've used sex to hurt people, or when I've handled sex so cavalierly and insensitively with someone that it fucked up my relationship with that person. However, I don't regret the fact that I stuck my face in a girl's crotch at fifteen and jumped on a dick at sixteen and have been doing that with gusto ever since.
There is, one thing, that I feel very, very bad about. I regret it deeply, and I feel that it is the greatest sin I've ever committed. I've alluded to it in the past, and tried to make light of it, but it is something that haunts me every day of my life. I need to confess it, but I'm still too much of a coward to hear what a priest might tell me. I think I'm afraid of being forgiven for it, because I don't know if I can ever let it go. Certainly a couple trips around the rosary will be insufficient penance. Since I'm too cowardly to seek the sacrament of reconciliation, I figure maybe I should confess this to the rest of the world. If I can give this up to the internets, maybe I'll be able to give this up to a man of the cloth and save my immortal soul from eternal damnation. Therefore, without further ado or pitiful showcases of my Catholic guilt, I'll just get on with the confessing.
In January 2004, after a Christmas vacation spent catching up with my stable of honeys in the P-N-Dub, I returned to New York. I noticed that my New Year's hangover never really quite went away in the sense that I began to experience nausea that became almost constant. At first, I attributed this to a stomach bug, since I am religious about taking my birth control pills on time and have been since the age of 16. When my monthly visitor did not arrive, however, I started to get a really bad feeling about the malady causing this. One night, my friend Miss Corbutt was hanging out at my apartment, and after a few drinks I finally articulated my secret fears to her.
"Dude, I think I might be pregnant."
"WHAT?!" she said.
"Well, I missed my period, and I'm throwing up all the time. I bought a pregnancy test, but I'm afraid to take it."
"It's going to be okay. Take the test first thing in the morning. I'll be here with you. In the meantime, have another beer."
So we drank and then went to bed, and then the next morning I braced myself. I knew I was pregnant. I didn't have to take the test to know it. Something was different with my body, and I could feel it. But even though I knew, I said a prayer that the test would prove this was all in my head. So I pissed on it and tried to hope that my instincts were wrong.
My instincts weren't wrong. I was indeed knocked up. I sat there, not knowing what to do. Miss Corbutt didn't ask what I was planning to do, or give me any advice. She just rubbed my back and told me everything was going to be okay. I told her that I just needed to think. She left me alone to do so.
I didn't really need to think. I knew what I had to do. The situation pretty much dictated what had to happen. I was in my first year of graduate school. I had classes and lab rotations. I didn't have time to become a single mother. I'd have to drop out of Columbia and probably move back to Puyallup. I'd become the unremarkable, economically and intellectually static woman I'd been working my whole life not to be. Add to it that on account of my brazen sluttiness, there were THREE candidates for Baby Daddy. I'm pretty sure I know which one it was, since Bachelor #1 had a serious case of whiskey dick, Bachelor #2 wore a condom and came down with prophylactic-induced erectile dysfunction, and Bachelor #3 gave me at least four cream pies. While I'd bet on Bachelor #3, I didn't really like the idea of involving him (especially since he was living with another woman) only to have the baby's paternity disproven upon its appearance. It would be pretty easy to tell whose kid it was once it came out, since Bachelor #1 was Arab, Bachelor #2 was white, and Bachelor #3 was black. It would be just my luck to have Bachelor #3 coaching me through delivery only to pop out a blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby. The only thing that could make that worse is Maury Povich popping in to declare, "Bachelor #3, you are NOT the father." Needless to say, I didn't feel I had any choice about what to do. I just couldn't bring myself to put the wheels in motion.
I called LL Cool Jew, who lived in Washington, DC at the time. She is steady and manages to combine practical here's-what-we-do actions with lots of compassion. Sometimes you need someone to tell you what to do and make the arrangements for you. I had done the same for her with regard to a bad breakup the year before, so I figured she would be able to do the same for me. I figured correctly.
"Hey, gurrrrrlllll," said LL Cool Jew.
"Dude, I'm pregnant," I said.
LL Cool Jew was quiet for a moment as she assumed a situation-appropriate sobriety. "Are you sure?"
"Tottlez, dude. I just took a test. What do I do?"
"Can you come down to DC in the next couple weekends?"
"Can I bring Caesar?" I asked.
"Duh."
"Yeah, sure."
"Let me call you right back," she said, getting off the phone. Five minutes later she called back.
"So, rent a car for weekend after next," she said. "I made an appointment for you."
"Great. I can't wait to see your and Wmania's new apartment," I said. I didn't know what else to say.
That was it. That was how I decided to have an abortion. I asked my friend to do it for me and acted like it was an excuse to check out LL Cool Jew and Wmania's new digs.
For the next week and a half, my morning sickness grew steadily worse. In fact, I'm not sure why it's even called "morning sickness" since I was afflicted with it at all hours of the day. I got in the habit of carrying a bottle of Pepto-Bismol with me everywhere I went. Some of my classmates at Columbia eventually began to inquire about my health. I told them I had a lingering case of stomach flu. One of my classmates eventually suggested that I see a doctor, since it wasn't right for such an ailment to persist, as we got into an elevator following another riveting Cell Membranes and Organelles class. "It's actually not a stomach flu," I said. "I'm pregnant."
There was a collective gasp from the elevator full of first-year grad students. I guess this is the kind of information you're supposed to hide and be ashamed of, but I have an almost compulsive need to be honest about myself. If I have no skeletons in my closet, nobody can ever hold anything over my head. Besides, I am an absolutely terrible liar. So I just came out with the truth. Then I felt sorry for shocking everyone else, so I comforted them. "Don't worry, I'm getting it taken care of next weekend." Everybody was still shocked, so I just tried to act as nonchalant and emotionally uninvolved as possible, like I'd just informed everyone I was going to the dermatologist to get a mole lasered off.
The time came, and I rented a car and loaded Caesar into it (this was pre-Chingy!), and drove to our nation's capital. LL Cool Jew, Wmania, and I drank wine and watched trash TV and made jokes about getting up early to be at the abortion clinic.
The next morning Wmania drove me to the clinic for my appointment at 8. It was in a suburban part of Maryland, in an unmarked, unassuming office building. "There's no sign," I observed. "Yeah, probably to keep the bombers away," said Wmania.
"That's comforting," I said. The waiting room was largely empty when I checked in.
"I'm here for an appointment to terminate my pregnancy," I said quietly, in the same tone of voice I'd use at a library or a funeral. I figured this was a somber occasion.
"Medical or surgical abortion?" said the receptionist loudly. My somber occasion was just another day at the office for her.
"Uhhh...what's the RU486 one? Medical, I guess," I said. The receptionist handed me some forms to fill out and said mechanically, "The purple form explains everything."
The purple form basically told me how the whole schtick was going to go down. They'd confirm my pregnancy, give me a shot of methotrexate in the ass to terminate my pregnancy, and after a week, I'd shove some misepristone pills in my cooch to induce a miscarriage of my dead fetus.
The waiting room started to fill up, and I waited and waited. Because the demand for the clinic's services apparently greatly exceeded its capacity to supply, they showed movies to help pass the time waiting. You might think that they'd show cheerful, lighthearted fare to lift the undoubtedly gloomy spirits of your average abortion clinic waiting room denizen, but you would be wrong. That morning they were showing Narc, an extremely violent movie about police corruption, drug dealing, torture, and murder. After a particularly lovely scene in which a dude blows his head off while taking a bong hit out of a loaded shotgun, Wmania said, "What the FUCK are we watching? Whoever put this movie in for this crowd was obviously smoking CRACK COCAINE." Whenever someone does something Wmania disapproves of, she always attributes it to the recent use of "crack cocaine."
Finally, they called me in. They wouldn't let Wmania come with me. I paid and made a lame joke about how, since I got airmiles for purchases made using my credit card, I should have abortions more often. The woman taking my payment did not laugh. Instead, she told me that I'd have to return afterward for a follow-up, and wanted to book the appointment then.
"How is February 14th?" she asked.
"Fine," I said. "It's going to be the most romantic Valentine's Day ever," I added. The woman again did not laugh. She sent me to a room for an ultrasound and then I had to piss in a cup for a pregnancy test. It took me an hour to produce a goddamn drop of urine. I attributed my urinary dysfunction to my constant vomiting. Finally, after I managed to piss, I was ushered into the gynecologist's examination room.
The doctor performed a pelvic exam on me. I remembered that she had the knobbiest knuckles I'd ever felt in my vagina. She brusquely advised me that I'd signed a form which legally obligated me to follow through with the abortion once I'd received my methotrexate, because otherwise I'd give birth to a deformed monster. I advised her that I was aware of that, and dropped a little science about methotrexate blocking proliferation of rapidly dividing cells by inhibiting dihydrofolate reductase. I told her she'd have to give me the methotrexate as an injection rather than a syrup, because I couldn't even keep water down. She told me to roll over and gave me a shot in the ass. Then she gave me a little packet of pills and told me to shove them up my vagina before bed in a week. She also gave me a prescription for Vicodin.
"Will I need this? Isn't this just going to be like a heavy period?" I asked.
"You might have some cramping," she said. "Just fill the prescription." Then, her clinical manner subsided and she squeezed my hand and shot me a kind, sympathetic expression. Even though her knuckles felt like ping pong balls, it was very comforting. "Make this as painless as possible for yourself," she said. "And avoid folic acid, it interferes with the methotrexate. But you already know that."
I left and Wmania escorted me out. I threw up in the parking lot. Wmania was very alarmed. "Holy shit, Razzy, pregnancy is like a disease to you!" When we got back to their apartment, I pointed out that the brochure the clinic gave me listed their phone number as 1-800-ABORTION. "Dude, I can't believe you fixed me up with this place by calling 1-800-ABORTION!" I said to LL Cool Jew.
"I did NOT call 1-800-ABORTION! They were the first clinic listed in the phone book, and it was a (202) number!"
"Whatever, you probably finished ordering new lenses from 1-800-CONTACTS and then figured you'd do the same for me by dialing 1-800-ABORTION," I teased her.
LL Cool Jew got rather indignant. "I SWEAR I did NOT dial 1-800-ABORTION!" I would have persisted in ragging on her, but I had to go throw up again.
After treating my nausea with a little medical marijuana, LL Cool Jew and Wmania took me out to lunch at Lauriol Plaza, which is the only place in Washington, DC I like at all. I'm a sucker for delicious fajitas. We ordered margaritas, and after a hilarious moment when Wmania decided to ask the non-English-speaking bus boy if they contained folic acid, resumed acting like my abortion was a great excuse for a weekend visit.
The next weekend, LL Cool Jew drove up to New York to keep me company for the actual fetus-purging part of the abortion. I was not in good shape. Despite my pregnancy being halted in its tracks by the methotrexate, I was still suffering from almost crippling nausea. I kept waking up in the night to vomit. In spite of my best efforts to joke about the situation ("Dude! Welcome to the party of the century!"), LL Cool Jew was extremely worried about me. She made sure the Vicodin was ready, she bought maxi-pads for me (trust that I am normally a tampon girl, but these are a no-no during an induced miscarriage), and she walked Caesar for me (a troublesome task given her penchant for five-inch stilettos and Caesar's tendency to pull hard on his leash). Finally, right before bed, I shoved the pills up my vadge, took a Vicodin, and went to bed.
Several hours later, I woke up feeling like my uterus was being rototilled. I tried to be stoic, but the pain was so severe that I started crying. I went into the bathroom so I wouldn't wake up LL Cool Jew. I sat on the toilet, where I realized that I was literally hemorrhaging. I was a fucking mess. Then I had to get off the toilet so that I could throw up into it. During this time, I bled on the floor. I started crying harder when I flushed because I realized that I had not only expelled my child into a toilet, I had puked on top of it and then unceremoniously sent it into the NYC sewer system. At this point, there was a quiet knock on the bathroom door. I'm not sure if my whimpering or my retching woke LL Cool Jew, but she was up and wanting to know if I was okay.
I tried to convince her that I was just fine and would be out in a minute, but failed. LL Cool Jew let herself in to find me wiping blood and chunks of fetus off the bathroom floor between dry heaves and sobs.
"Oh my fucking God, Razzy," she said. "You are NOT okay."
I was a complete mess. LL Cool Jew gave me another couple Vicodin and helped me back to bed. I think I managed to clean up most of the floor before her entrance, so there wasn't much for her to finish. I couldn't keep those Vicodin down. I spent the rest of the night writhing in pain. I felt like someone was wringing out my reproductive organs. LL Cool Jew stayed up with me, stroking my hair and feeling bad about not being able to help me more. Finally, I managed to fight back the urge to vomit long enough to let more pain meds kick in, and fell asleep for a couple hours.
The next day LL Cool Jew and I stayed in bed all day watching Lord of the Rings and eating pizza. I felt a little better. My friend KatieScarlett came over to visit. I was so exhausted and finally able to eat that I fell asleep early while KatieScarlett and LL Cool Jew got to know each other. They ended up dating for almost a year after that. Nothing kindles lesbian love like a mutual friend's abortion.
I figured that LL Cool Jew and KatieScarlett's relationship demonstrated that something good could come out of what was otherwise a horrible and traumatic experience. I resolved to finish off the whole abortion experience on a positive note, so when I went back to DC for my Valentine's Day follow-up confirming my now-empty uterus, LL Cool Jew and I decided that it would be really, really fun to go to Medieval Times for some post-abortion clinic faux jousting.
After the clinic, LL Cool Jew and I went to pick up Wmania from her boyfriend's apartment. She said she would meet us outside, because her then-boyfriend probably didn't want us traipsing around in his den of WASPiness and messing up his golf tee collection (and I'm not kidding...this d-bag from Connecticut actually collected tees from all the expensive golf courses he'd played at). When we arrived, Wmania and said boyfriend were clearly having some sort of fight, as they were standing aggressively opposed and gesturing wildly. LL Cool Jew and I pulled up, blasting "Night Train" by GNR, and I leaned out the window with a Parliament Light hanging out of my mouth and shouted, "Happy Valentine's Day, lovebirds! I just got done at the abortion clinic and I'm ready to drink some mead and watch some fucking jousting, so get your ass in my rental car, bitch!"
Wmania's lame boyfriend just stared at us, clearly offended into silence. He muttered a goodbye to Wmania, adjusted the collar of his polo shirt, and shuffled off to dust his golf tees or whatever. Wmania, LL Cool Jew, and I proceeded to have a great time drinking overpriced Bud Light and shouting about whatever fake knight our seating arrangements required us to support. On our way out, we took a picture in some fancy photo booth that put a picture of us in front a background that said "Bad Attitude." As is my custom, I exposed my right breast for the photo, and only realized upon exiting that there was a large screen outside the booth displaying the picture of my naked tit for everyone in the mall to see.
"Dude, we have to get out of here before we, like, get arrested for indecent exposure or something," Wmania cautioned.
We left and proceeded to spend a lot more time drinking and carousing and forgetting the entire reason for my trip to our nation's capital. However, any distraction from this event in my life is temporary. Not a day has passed since then that I haven't thought about it. It does not escape my notice that if I had made a different choice, I would have a four-year-old today. I have dreams about what my child would have looked like. I can't forgive myself for doing this, but I can't punish myself for it either. I regret it constantly, but in spite of that, I would do the same thing if I found out I was pregnant today.
Well over half of my friends have gone through the same thing. Often they call me when they have to, because everyone knows that I have had the same experience (since my favorite means of coping is to pretend it doesn't bother me and make irreverent jokes about it). It is heartbreaking for all of them. One of my friends undergoing a "medical" abortion called me during the week between the methotrexate and the misepristone, crying and saying over and over, "My baby is dying! I can feel it dying!" Another friend called after her abortion ended and said, "I feel like a terrible woman. I feel like Medea." After assuring her that references to infanticidal witches of Greek mythology will get her nowhere in terms of coping, I still felt like a shit because I still couldn't offer her any tips as to how to get this out of your system. If there is a way to move past this, I haven't discovered it. I still think about it all the time. I'm in therapy because of it. Even if I use the impersonal nomenclature (ie: "terminating a pregnancy") that makes an abortion sound like a simple medical procedure, I can't escape the part of me that thinks I killed my child. I can try to justify it by saying that I killed my bastard to save my own life, but this is not a simple thing to think about or put to rest.
The sad thing is that so many women have gone through this, and nobody talks about how complex the experience is. When people talk about abortion, the discussions tend to be political (either "abortion is murder" or "keep your laws off my body") and don't even come close to addressing what it's like to actually have an abortion. I'm sure women exist who think abortion is very casual and can have one without thinking about it at all, but everyone I know, obviously including myself, has not emerged from the clinic unscathed, undamaged, and without a significant measure of grief and remorse. While every woman I know, also including myself, believes she made the right decision, it is not easy living with it. And writing this all down and putting it on display for the internets and the world doesn't mitigate this burden, but at least it's not something I've got festering away secretly inside me anymore. I don't know if I'll ever find absolution or peace, but now that I've confessed, at least I can hope I'm on the right track. Besides, now you all know, and as GI Joe cartoons used to advise me, that's half the battle.
Labels: Catholicism, destroy all children, for serious people, LL Cool Jew, Miss Corbutt, Razzification, Wmania
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Maybe this is why you hate kids so much? You could have one right now and you feel guilty. But what do I know, I'm not a shrink.
# posted by 
: 5/22/2008 10:06 AM
: 5/22/2008 10:06 AM
As a man, I do not profess to come close to knowing what you went through, however, I got a girl pregnant in highschool and talked her into, and paid for her abortion. I was there when the procedure was done, and there afterwards to see how it affected her. Now that I am older I feel horrible guilt and remorse every day myself for my part in what was done. She doesn't talk to me anymore, but afterwards the feelings she described to me were very much the same as yours. I may be a hypocrite, but after seeing what she/we did, now I am very much pro-life. I wouldn't want anyone to ever go through that horrible experience again. And I imagine it even 10 times worse from a womans point of view.
JJ
JJ
# posted by : 5/22/2008 10:16 AM
: 5/22/2008 10:16 AM
While I usually just log on to your blog to amuse myself while trying to avoid work, I was pretty impressed with this post. Your usual blunt manner definitely worked well here. I'm honestly a little torn up after reading it and I hope at some point you will be able to forgive yourself/ accept making such a difficult decision.
As an aside, you should think seriously about writing as a career. I know somebody gotta make mice sick, but sometimes just cause you're great at something (science) doesn't mean you have to keep doing it. Or would making writing your job take the fun out of it? Either way, you definitely have the talent.
Just a thought, one scientist to another.
As an aside, you should think seriously about writing as a career. I know somebody gotta make mice sick, but sometimes just cause you're great at something (science) doesn't mean you have to keep doing it. Or would making writing your job take the fun out of it? Either way, you definitely have the talent.
Just a thought, one scientist to another.
# posted by : 5/22/2008 10:45 AM
: 5/22/2008 10:45 AM
My ex had an abortion a couple of years ago. I had no idea how traumatic it could be. I'm pretty heartless in general though.
Just wondering, anything an ex can do to make it easier? We broke up a year ago, but still talk every now and then.
Just wondering, anything an ex can do to make it easier? We broke up a year ago, but still talk every now and then.
# posted by : 5/22/2008 11:31 AM
: 5/22/2008 11:31 AM
Ouch, oww, and ouch again. Razzy, my heart goes out to you. And thanks for writing this post, which couldn't have been easy. You've exactly described why all girls and women feel that particular and dreadful terror. I really doubt that your hypothetical casual woman exists -anywhere, ever.
# posted by : 5/22/2008 2:34 PM
: 5/22/2008 2:34 PM
I had an abortion two years ago during my freshman year of college, just only turning 18. I ended up haemorrhaging all over my hotel room while my then boyfriend complained I was making him late for class. Trust I dumped his bitch ass.
Anywho, it seems I'm one of the few, lucky women that manages to get past the experience. I simply had to mull the rocky ugly truth of the matter until it was smooth and polished. If I had had a child then, I would have had to drop out of college (did I mention all of that awful shit was happening on my first day of school?), my boyfriend's parents would have either made me marry their son or gone to court to get sole guardianship, I would be back in my small home town of 1,000 people. I realised that it wouldn't have been fair to put my kid in that position. Now I've got a BS in Archaeology, nearly have my masters, own my own business, and have the whole world of men to chose from if I want a sperm donation.
Would your child be in a happy place right now? Would you be? I know it's hard to think about, but God gave women the opportunity to bring children into the world, and I'm sure that he trusts us with the responsibility with deciding when the best time that is.
I truly hope that you can find peace with your decision.
-Liz
Anywho, it seems I'm one of the few, lucky women that manages to get past the experience. I simply had to mull the rocky ugly truth of the matter until it was smooth and polished. If I had had a child then, I would have had to drop out of college (did I mention all of that awful shit was happening on my first day of school?), my boyfriend's parents would have either made me marry their son or gone to court to get sole guardianship, I would be back in my small home town of 1,000 people. I realised that it wouldn't have been fair to put my kid in that position. Now I've got a BS in Archaeology, nearly have my masters, own my own business, and have the whole world of men to chose from if I want a sperm donation.
Would your child be in a happy place right now? Would you be? I know it's hard to think about, but God gave women the opportunity to bring children into the world, and I'm sure that he trusts us with the responsibility with deciding when the best time that is.
I truly hope that you can find peace with your decision.
-Liz
that was a great post: honest, heart-wrenching, real. i love how you elevated a subject that is, as you say, so often dumbed down by simplistic political slogans.
ok, having said that, i am going to completely contradict myself and reduce this to a political position anyway.
despite any ambivalence you may have about your decision, there is no one else in the world who could have, or should have, made that decision for you. right or wrong or somewhere in between, it was absolutely your decision to make.
anyone who would take that decision from you does not belong on the supreme court. and anyone who would appoint such a judge does not belong in the white house.
ok, having said that, i am going to completely contradict myself and reduce this to a political position anyway.
despite any ambivalence you may have about your decision, there is no one else in the world who could have, or should have, made that decision for you. right or wrong or somewhere in between, it was absolutely your decision to make.
anyone who would take that decision from you does not belong on the supreme court. and anyone who would appoint such a judge does not belong in the white house.
# posted by : 5/22/2008 7:56 PM
: 5/22/2008 7:56 PM
Thanks for having the courage to post this. I hope that writing this helps you make peace with it.
# posted by : 5/22/2008 9:13 PM
: 5/22/2008 9:13 PM
It took guts to post that. If it was me (which it wouldn't be cause I'm a dude), I'd never tell anyone.
# posted by : 5/22/2008 10:01 PM
: 5/22/2008 10:01 PM
I always liked you a lot and thought you were hilarious, but I think this post has really garnered a lot of respect for you. You're so honest about such a dark thing in your life, and I really hope that you can move on. I know that God's not gonna send you to hell for it, as do you, but it's hard to stop thinking about the enormity of the act. I really hope that you can move past it...
Razzy;
Sweetness,
That was a heart-wrenching post…
I had a completely different experience …
My abortion was total out of body - I swear I was floating above myself, watching the whole thing unfold - completely checked out emotionally. Until of course, I met eyes with the doctor doing the procedure - Dr. Henry Morgentaler himself! Then it was real and I started to cry and he sat there holding my hand and wiping my tears for 20 minutes until I calmed down. And in 10 minutes, it was over. No pain, no mess. All very neat and tidy … I don’t think RU486 was even an option at that time.
I think about it from time to time – much moreso now that I just turned 40, am divorced and childless and want a baby more than anything but am certain what remaining eggs I do have are likely too old and unviable. And I wonder too how things would have been different.
But I do have peace – generally speaking and Razzy, that’s what you must find.
I hope writing this post and the feedback from your readers helped in some way.
Comfort.
L&L
Sweetness,
That was a heart-wrenching post…
I had a completely different experience …
My abortion was total out of body - I swear I was floating above myself, watching the whole thing unfold - completely checked out emotionally. Until of course, I met eyes with the doctor doing the procedure - Dr. Henry Morgentaler himself! Then it was real and I started to cry and he sat there holding my hand and wiping my tears for 20 minutes until I calmed down. And in 10 minutes, it was over. No pain, no mess. All very neat and tidy … I don’t think RU486 was even an option at that time.
I think about it from time to time – much moreso now that I just turned 40, am divorced and childless and want a baby more than anything but am certain what remaining eggs I do have are likely too old and unviable. And I wonder too how things would have been different.
But I do have peace – generally speaking and Razzy, that’s what you must find.
I hope writing this post and the feedback from your readers helped in some way.
Comfort.
L&L
# posted by : 5/24/2008 9:32 AM
: 5/24/2008 9:32 AM
I'm so glad that you have such a powerful tool that is the Internet for helping to cope with these kinds of things. Although I have never experienced this myself, I know of others who have. They don't like talking about it, and I never force them to because I was sure that there really are more complicated events before, during, and after the fact. I post this not to remind you of the incident, but to thank you for giving me insight as to how these people feel. I wish that no one would ever have to go through this, but unfortunately, these things just happen.
I'm sure that there isn't anything I can do or say to make you feel better, since I am a nameless, faceless person here on the Internet; but I want you to know that it does NOT make you a bad person! I cry for you inside (and literally) to think that anyone should consider themselves a bad person for going what you went through. It absolutely shreds my heart into pieces.
Dealing with complicated circumstances is no one else's business except for the person dealing with them, and no one else can judge them for the decisions they make. You dealt with your circumstance and lived through it, and that's a lot for anyone to go through. But you made it, and now you're here telling us wonderful stories about your good days, bad days, and voicing your opinion. You've formed a network of people, some of whom trust and support and admire you, and that is also quite an accomplishment. You are a wonderful person, and you should never let thoughts that say otherwise plague your mind.
Sorry if I sound stupid or shink-y, but I'm just a 20 year-old girl who takes everything to heart. I have come to love your personality, and I hope that my comment at least didn't make you mad. Thank you so much for sharing with us. I mean it.
I'm sure that there isn't anything I can do or say to make you feel better, since I am a nameless, faceless person here on the Internet; but I want you to know that it does NOT make you a bad person! I cry for you inside (and literally) to think that anyone should consider themselves a bad person for going what you went through. It absolutely shreds my heart into pieces.
Dealing with complicated circumstances is no one else's business except for the person dealing with them, and no one else can judge them for the decisions they make. You dealt with your circumstance and lived through it, and that's a lot for anyone to go through. But you made it, and now you're here telling us wonderful stories about your good days, bad days, and voicing your opinion. You've formed a network of people, some of whom trust and support and admire you, and that is also quite an accomplishment. You are a wonderful person, and you should never let thoughts that say otherwise plague your mind.
Sorry if I sound stupid or shink-y, but I'm just a 20 year-old girl who takes everything to heart. I have come to love your personality, and I hope that my comment at least didn't make you mad. Thank you so much for sharing with us. I mean it.
For what they're worth, prayers for you to assuage the pain.
Please confess. Go to a church way far away from your neighborhood.
Your post made me cry. I promise, no matter how awful confession to a priest will be, the lightness you feel afterward will outweigh it.
Please confess. Go to a church way far away from your neighborhood.
Your post made me cry. I promise, no matter how awful confession to a priest will be, the lightness you feel afterward will outweigh it.
# posted by : 6/27/2008 8:50 PM
: 6/27/2008 8:50 PM
I had one years ago, and while I don't think about it every day, I DO still feel I made the right choice. My doctor refused to let me go to a clinic, however, as he said the RU486 is a traumatic experience, and not the 'quick fix' many seem to think it is. I hope you find peace someday. I didn't regret my choice for a second. I grew up in a single parent home and it was harder than anyone will ever know. I was not going to live my mother's life. However, it is different for everyone. Regret, I feel, is a wasted emotion. It accomplishes and changes nothing. I wish you peace, and hope someday it finds you. Talking about it is a sure step towards that, but even if you never fully come to peace with it, I wish you the best in life.
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# posted by : 11/21/2008 2:37 PM
: 11/21/2008 2:37 PM Links to this post:
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