Ending a Pregnancy

ABORTION.

Just the word is disturbing. Carrying heavy emotions no matter who you are or what “side” of the issue you’re on.

I clearly remember what it was like being on the side against it. Strongly against it.  

Understandably so. My childhood was not only influenced by the Baptist Church – it was literally my life – being one of 4 children born to parents who were overseas missionaries. I adopted the belief system I was born into and never questioned most of it. So this issue, for me – was clear. Black and white. It was wrong. It was murder. It was just about the worst thing you could possibly do in this life and I could never have imagined thinking or believing differently. 

Just to give you an idea of how I used to think – I remember being in NYC on Easter Sunday in 1990 with my oldest kids who were all under 7 at the time, their father and I and the kids happily on our way to the Russian Tea Room for Easter brunch. We came upon what looked like a parade that was blocking our way to the restaurant. Protestors had taken to the streets in a full fledged demonstration in support of abortion rights. 

When I realized what was happening, I looked on in horror at what I saw as people supporting the murder of babies. As I held my kids’ hands, in my designer dress and high heels, one of them asked me “mommy, what’s going on?” I answered loudly  – “These people think that it’s ok to kill babies” – I said it proudly in spite of the glares of several fellow pedestrians who at that point had become a crowd of people unable to cross the street. I didn’t flinch. Because I knew with every part of me that I was right. Anyone who believed differently was wrong and was probably going to hell. It was my moment to declare the truth to these heathen people of NYC. I was so proud of myself. 

Fast forward several years later…

My life had become a disaster. Over the years of living in a tumultuous and abusive marriage, I had been gradually initiated into deep pain - on many levels. I was raw. I felt ancient even though I was only 28 years old. Yet thankfully, I had found the strength to separate from this man.

My early adult years prior to the separation had been spent going to church and having babies from the time I was 19. This was a new life for me, along with weekends to myself - for the first time ever while the kids were visiting their father. It gave me the chance to make up for lost time - and it felt good to explore that independence. The dark side of which crushed me like an emotional avalanche when I realized I was pregnant. It was about a year after our official separation, that I discovered I was pregnant. The father was someone I hardly knew that I had met at a party. 

In the deep south state of the US that I was living in, during that day and age, and during the ongoing threats from my then wealthy and powerful ex husband, I knew that I would lose custody of my 3 kids if I were to continue the pregnancy. The thought of losing my children was absolutely the very worst thing I could think of happening. It was my worst nightmare.

And so there I was – caught in the middle of the 2 worst possible things that could happen to a person. Even writing about it now, I’m shaking, and crying – hard – and I feel like I’m going to throw up. It was 28 years ago. Not so recent and yet it feels as if it was just a few months ago.

I had flashes of Meryl Streep in “Sophie’s Choice” and remembered how hard I cried when I saw that movie, and here – it was happening to me… “Which life? – whose life will you sacrifice for the other?” A choice – true. But fuck – not a choice at all. I wrote in my journal that week – “I used to think of those people as “pro-choice”. But that’s not it at all! This is not a choice. This is nothing less than pure hell. There is no good decision. The only options are death or death. Indeed – a part of me is dying already”.

I kept going back and forth for days on end. Eventually I went to my doctor and discussed it with her. Just a 5 minute conversation with someone who was objective yet compassionate helped give me the clarity and strength to take the first step which was to simply entertain the idea that an abortion was a real possibility. 

Within a few days – sleepless, vomit filled days – I had made my decision and made sure that the clinic would take my credit card as no way did I have the $500 cash to pay for it. They did and I made my appointment. 

I arrived in the morning and sat in the waiting room with about 10 other women/girls. We all looked like shit. Tired. Nauseated. Impatient. Just wanting to get the whole thing over with. There was one girl that was unusually bright and talkative. Her hair and make-up were immaculate and she was dressed nicely even though it was 7:30 in the morning and she would be having her procedure imminently. She brightly proclaimed to the room that she was glad we all had this choice. That she wasn’t scared at all and that we were all so lucky. 

She didn’t get any takers though. None of us even acknowledged that she’d said anything at all. Most of us kept our eyes closed, the rest looked at the floor. Cell phones had not yet become a thing. Everyone just sat there in silence.

Eventually we were moved from the waiting room to another inner waiting room and from there after a while, I was moved forward to the interview room. Each change of location signified a greater level of commitment and the anxiety grew.

The interview room looked like a renovated closet. Dark and small, simple with just 2 cheap chairs facing each other. I was numb and really nauseated by this point. “Any questions or concerns?” the woman asked. I hesitated and then very quietly, looking directly in her eyes yet feeling a mile away from her, I replied – “I just feel like I’m killing my baby”. She returned my gaze, also probably feeling a mile away from me – “Are you sure you want to do this?” “No!” I said – “I don’t want to do this! But I don’t want what will happen if I don’t do it”. She looked down at my file and then in an impatient and dismissive manner said  “I’m going to have you go back out to the waiting room so you can think about this for a while and let us know when you’ve made your decision”. I was escorted back to the waiting room feeling rejected and guilty and stupid. 

The waiting room. So bright. An old blaring tv in the background advertised food product after food product in between the loud upbeat morning news programs. In a room full of pregnant women who have been told to not eat or drink for what at that point had been several hours – the commercials were torturous. One woman took a break in her effort to avoid eye contact and briefly caught my eye with a very slight ironic smile. Fellow hostages being subjected to a most peculiar form of torture. I smiled back at her for an instant before we both returned our gaze to the faded green linoleum tile floor in front of us.

Such a small gesture but the brief connection made me feel not so alone and with it gave me the bit of courage I needed. Soon I realized that yes – I absolutely had to finish this today. I would not go through this all again and couldn’t bear the torture of the fluorescent lit waiting room any longer. I went up to the volunteer/nurse and broke the silence in the room by telling her that I had made up my mind and yes I wanted to do it. She told me to wait for someone to call me.

I began seeing some of the other women come back from their procedures. They were put in a special chair, covered with a blanket and given juice and some crackers. They looked empty as they sat there sucking on the ridiculously tiny juice straws and nibbling on the crackers, wiping away a stray tear every few minutes. “That’s gonna be me soon” I told myself. I wondered if I’d look as hollow as they did. 

Soon, my name was called and I was escorted to one of the rooms, told to take my clothes off, given a gown and instructed to lay down on the medical table with a nurse on either side of me. The doctor came in and moved around to where my feet were. “What’s with all the mind changing?” he asked me callously, a bit irritated. I still felt stupid and now scolded so reacted by being brave and strong – “I had some reservations earlier but I’m ok now. I want to do this”. “OK” he said “good to hear” and with a snap of surgical gloves, a quick command to put my feet in the stirrups and a cold metal speculum going forcefully inside me, it was on. I reached out aimlessly for a hand and found it. One of the nurses to my right. She held my hand and quietly whispered to me “It’s all going to be ok” “You’re ok”. “I’m here”. 

The calm of her voice was abruptly interrupted by the horrible loud sound of the vacuum aspiration machine and then I began to feel the ripping. The sharp tearing. It hurt. A lot. A lot more than I thought it would. I cried out – a half scream and a half cry and squeezed the shit out of the nurse’s hand. “It’s ok” she just kept repeating. And then soon it stopped – the ripping stopped and the sound stopped and all that was left was the open wound feeling of pain – the kind that lasts after an injury. I had a hard time breathing and then passed out.

As I woke up, I tried to see through the blur in front of me.  The nurses were very kind and stayed with me doing all the things that needed to be done in that moment. I saw them as angels floating around me, shadows in front of the blinding fluorescent light. Once I began feeling better, breathing and seeing more clearly – I thanked the one nurse on my right through my tears. She looked back at me with tears in her eyes too and said she was glad to be there.

“What’s your name?” I asked her. I wanted to always remember this woman who passed through this with me. “Linda” she replied. I laughed/cried “Oh wow – that’s my name too”. “I know” she said with a smile.

I don’t remember much after that, except going out to the parking lot outside where a dear friend was waiting for me to take me home. I was shocked to see that it was dark - that time had kept on going and that a whole day had passed. That people were going on normally with their normal lives. How?

Shaking, I got in the car and asked my friend to stop at my favorite mexican restaurant for some food to go on the way home. She bought dinner for both of us as well as a bottle of tequila and came to my house to eat with me. She put a bag with period pads on my kitchen table once we were in the house. “You’ll need these,” she said. I hadn’t even thought of that and was grateful that she had – so grateful to this day for all of her kindness. The next day, I woke up, showered, got dressed to host a birthday party that had been planned for weeks for one of my kids at Chuck E Cheese. As the party guests and their parents arrived, I greeted each one like everything was normal. Still hollow and empty inside, bleeding and in so much pain. But doing what I needed to do for my child. And for me. Being a good mother was just about all I had then.

It’s been years now, and upon my reflection of this experience, I see that I have given myself the grace needed to know that I chose to avoid what would have been a cataclysmic event of my kids’ abusive father getting custody of them. After the abortion, I would still end up spending years trying to protect them not only from their father but from a legal system that was quickly moving in a direction that the priority given to what was best for the children was overridden by a fathers’ rights. As in property rights. A system that deserves a whole post of its own but that I won’t go into right now.

I have no regrets for my decision. And I have what I feel is more of a complete understanding on what is “right and wrong” with abortion. I’ve also begun to dissect the whole idea of getting pregnant, making the decision to carry the baby for 9 months, giving birth to the baby, raising that baby to adulthood and all that comes with that, with the hopes that they will have a fulfilling life – out of a sense of guilt and responsibility - and how that process would be for that baby/person knowing that they were not wanted from the very beginning. What must that do to that person?

Intrinsically, I believe that we all know if we were wanted or not. The angst of the mother, first suspecting she may be pregnant, and the sleepless nights and constant worry that comes with that (I know so well what that feels like) – and then the confirmation of the pregnancy and the blow that is felt – as if it’s a life sentence.

Knowing that we as humans are given the deepest imprints during early pregnancy, the impact of these strong emotions are transferred to the baby and I don’t know if there’s anything that can undo that in a person. That lifelong sentence transferred to this newly growing person. You could say that this may be a greater “sin” than anything. 

What a weight to give to that person for the rest of their life. And when we look at the collective – I would say that this one issue is possibly bigger than any of us can imagine. How many people are operating in their lives with that deep imprint? How much of that is passed on to the next generations? And how does this affect all of us?

What would our world look like if all people were wanted from the beginning? 

It wasn’t until recently in history that abortions were performed the way they are now, the way I just described. And most people think that this is the only option to end a pregnancy.

Historically though, we know that pregnancies were commonly terminated by using herbs. “Bringing on a period” is how it was framed. Women throughout the ages understood that even though they may become pregnant, that they had the ability to control the outcome, and exercised that right when it was necessary. They, and we can now too, understand that we do not need to be compelled to act as a life giving host to another person against our will. Women, and mothers were given more respect than that. 

The herbal process takes a bit longer than a surgical procedure, but much more gentle and can be performed at home. There is also a pharmaceutical that can be taken – with the whole procedure happening at home. I’ve also seen and experienced that a connection with the baby telling them that you do not agree with this also works sometimes.

Below is a list, in order, of different options to end a pregnancy safely at home beginning with the least invasive and moving forward in the list until the process is complete. 

1. Connect with the soul of the baby. Tell them that you do not agree. This is not the right time. Continue for several days. If nothing happens, continue by adding the next step.
2. Vitamin C…. 500 milligrams every 2 hours for 12 hours per day for 4-7 days (taking a break while sleeping at night, resume taking it in the morning). This can make you very nauseated and just feel bad overall. It’s best to do numbers 1 and 2 simultaneously but the take time and space to be quiet and still because you will not feel up to doing much. It’s still a process that requires stillness and rest. If this doesn’t work, move to the next step.
3. Black Cohosh and Dong Quai tincture. Take a dropperful of each every 4 hours until you begin bleeding (taking a break during the night to sleep and then resume in the morning). This can take 2 – 7 days. This may not work if you don’t take the time and space to allow it to. I’ve seen this happen – where the woman gave up thinking it wasn’t going to work, left her family at home to go on a vacation and once she was settled in, away and free of her family and responsibilities, it finally happened. 2 full weeks after discontinuing the herbs. 
4. Misoprostol. Take 800mcg under the tongue every 4 hours, 3 times for a total of 12 hours (12 total pills of 200 mcg) . This is the most effective with a very high success rate. (* please do your own research on this drug before using it and do not attempt using it if you’re on steroids or blood thinners including aspirin)

It’s important that you take the time and space to rest and heal and to process. When the baby passes, I recommend holding it (or the pieces that come out) in your hands – look at it and connect. Say all the things you need to say for as long as you need to. Give the baby a name.

Once you feel complete, put it in a cloth or a box – some kind of container – and bury it or burn it. This should be a ceremonial time and treated as such. I feel that this is a big missing piece of ending a pregnancy that isn’t talked about much. And I feel that we could potentially carry a lot of weight, guilt and pain if we don’t take the time to honor it while it’s happening and while it’s fresh, in order to move forward in the best way possible. Resting in bed for at least a day if not 7 afterwards is essential as well. 

There is a fine line between trusting life, or God, or a higher being with life decisions and taking our own proactive way in making them. Everyone ultimately has to make their own choice as to where this line is. And, it can change and move frequently throughout our lives.

I do believe that it’s important for us to know that when it comes to an unexpected pregnancy, that we have the choice and permission to make that decision for ourselves. We don’t have to feel like victims, perpetuating the deep pain to others. 

We have the power and permission to decide.

“Out beyond ideas of rightdoing and wrongdoing there is a field. I will meet you there”

RUMI