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Short stories: Abortion

by Ann C Evans

Created on: February 24, 2009   Last Updated: August 26, 2009

Coming to Terms

''It's about this big and it has a heartbeat" he said, holding his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. At that moment, I know my fate is sealed. It's amazing how a tiny cluster of cells can make such an impact.

It's just like taking the morning after pill I am told; nothing to it; it will be all over in a couple of days. Yes I know, I hadn't meant for this to happen, this whole conception bit; the only reason why I'm here is that nobody else wanted it to either. This unwelcome little visitor feels like an alien growing inside of me; a convicted criminal lurking on death row, awaiting news of the impending execution. I want to ignore it, I didn't want to feed it or nourish it and still there is this yearning, gnawing at my very being.

I cannot understand women who say they feel broody after having just shed their youngest offspring at the school gates - that is until it happened to me. Cunningly Mother Nature plays her tricks; you forget the sleepless nights, the mountains of nappies, bottles and laundry; they become just a blur, when she encompasses you in her warm rosy glow. Of course I am dismissive of her callings, I won't be tricked but nevertheless she is persistent. I'm drawn to peeping in prams and admiring the tiny bundles of blue or pink; I drool over both my children's baby photographs and let myself drift down memory lane.

I'm being irrational I know, as I understand it's completely out of the question. My mental health is still constantly being managed. I force myself instead to concentrate on next year's foreign holiday.

For seven years we have been so careful but in one moment of passion I find myself left with this overwhelming burden. I am already paying the price, being incapacitated by evil amounts of 'morning' sickness. The kitchen, that cauldron of cooking smells, is out of bounds and the settee is becoming my constant refuge. It was not as if there is going to be any reward for all this torture; there were to be no words crying out, 'It's a boy!', 'It's a girl!'; there was to be no counting of fingers and toes, pondering on names or surmising who it looks like.

I can't bare my predicament but then I don't have to worry because soon 'it' will not exist. My life will no longer be on hold. I already have an army of supporters encouraging me to go down this path; the general consensus being that it's for the best. I'm confused and sad but like a penitent sinner I'm accepting my punishment.

Clutching my stomach in anguish, I get to my feet, thank the doctor and leave. My encumbrance is no longer such; I feel elated. The furrow in my forehead has disappeared and I am now making my way home to re-introduce this precious little gift of life to the rest of the family.

How they will take the news I'm not sure. All I know is that some decisions have to be your own and whether or not it is the 'right' decision will only be for you to judge. Personally I can not live with abortion it tears at my very being; however hands on my heart, faced with the same situation ever again, God forbid, who knows what I would do.

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