I was about 17 when I got pregnant. I was scared. I knew I didn’t want a child I think perhaps because the would-be father was no kinda father figure and I was young. I told my close friends because I didn’t know how to terminate the pregnancy but one of them had another friend who’d had one done before and said the doctor would give me pills but it would cost $15000. I didn’t have that much money so the plan was to ask my friends to pool funds so I could get it done the only problem was all of them happened to be broke all at the same time. It was summer no one had school so no one was getting an allowance.
I’m still not sure how my parents found out but they did. I was about 2 months at the time. They called me into their room one morning and asked about it. I just remembered my mom yelling at me to tell her what happened and my dad stood quietly there. I couldn’t speak. She took me to her gynaecologist who examined my cervix and confirmed that I was in fact pregnant. The whole time I was hoping he would say I wasn’t even though I had taken 2 home tests myself and they were positive each time.
My mom asked about options to terminate he said he couldn’t do it but referred her to someone who could. When I went to that other doctor we were sitting in his office and he asked what was wrong. My mom looked at me told me to tell him and I did. After that, it was a mini-lecture on why I shouldn’t be having sex and using protection etc. I just remember feeling so guilty. But I had used protection both the condom and the morning after failed (what are the odds?). They didn’t ask me about any of that, of course, they just assumed I was stupid and reckless.
They took me into the operating room which was really dark and old looking. The nurse told me to undress from the bottom down and get on the bed. They gave me an anaesthetic. I was told it would put me out and I wouldn’t remember anything. The problem was I wasn’t totally unconscious before they started and I don’t think I was completely sedated and all because I could hear and feel everything. I felt them spreading my legs. I felt the cold metals and the piercing and the tugging and the pulling and the scraping. My eyes were heavy and my limbs were weak. I’m sure I could open my eyes and move but I didn’t. I didn’t want to see what they were doing to me. I was groaning in pain and telling them it hurt hoping they would stop but they ignored me. At some point, I must have eventually passed out maybe from the pain or maybe the anaesthetics had finally kicked in. Idk the next thing I remember was the nurse rushing me to put my clothes on. She put a pad in my panties, helped me put my pants on and led me to see my mom. When I saw her I burst into tears. I told her how sorry I was. We never spoke about it again. I never told her how bad it hurt we didn’t talk the entire way home.
I don’t regret doing it but I hate that I felt like I didn’t have the emotional support to walk me through all of it. I hate that I felt so much shame about it. So much so, that I think this is probably the only time I talked about other than when I told my therapist. It felt like it was written on my face. I kept wondering if people knew and what they would think of me. It took a while to get over the shame. I feel like everybody including my parents looked at me differently.
It happened 8 years ago. I’d like to think I’m over it. I wished it had gone differently. It is what it is though. Shit happens and then you move on.