by Apryl Nichole

Created on: September 12, 2009

Abortion can inadvertently ruin the lives of other people, just like it can ruin any budding relationship. What I am about to tell you is my story, and I am not ashamed. Please read at your own risk, this is a touchy subject. I have not been graphic in my story, avoiding most of those details.

When I was 16, I thought I knew everything. I was dating an older guy, he was 18. I believed everything he said. He said we didn't need a condom, that he would just pull out and everything would be fine. I believed him. Of course I wasn't on birth control either. Then one day in class I got really sick. I ran to the bathroom and threw up my breakfast muffin and orange juice. I rinsed my mouth out and looked into the mirror, expecting to look pale and hallow. I looked fine, and I felt fine. Probably just nerves, I thought to myself. I went back to class and no one said a thing. This little routine persisted for about a week before I finally admitted to myself something was wrong. I told my boyfriend and he said he would get a home pregnancy test. I did it at his house. I trembled in the bathroom the whole time. I sat on the toilet seat shaking, waiting for the results. Two lines yes, one line no. Three minutes later, I looked up sharply and stared at the little test on the counter, suddenly realizing that this test would determine my future. I picked it up and saw with sinking dread there were two lines. I went home that night and told my parents I wasn't feeling well. I hid in my room and tried to think of how to tell them and what to do next. I found out about planned parenthood and made an appointment. They did a free test and gave me some information about my options. My boyfriend was starting to panic by this point, fearing his life was over. We discussed the options and quickly found we did not agree on some key things. We ended up fighting so bad we broke up.

I finally told my parents. My dad didn't say anything. My mom said she already knew, though I didn't ask how. I made a choice to have an abortion. My mom would take the day off and go with me, take me. She said she supported my decision.

The place was hard to find and somehow I wasn't surprised at that. We found it after we found the protesters outside. They had signs with pictures of bloody babies, and sayings like "abortion stops a beating heart". They called me a baby killer, a slut and a whore. I tried to ignore them. I didn't look at them, didn't let them see my eyes. The process took all day. I had to see a doctor, and get an ultrasound. I then had to see a counselor, then wait in a dim light waiting room with other girls. One said this was her forth abortion; I nearly threw up. I didn't talk to her much. Finally, it was my turn. I went into a white room, with a doctor and nurse waiting. The doctor explained the procedure and what it would feel like. I experienced the worst physical pain in my life. Then I was left alone to rest for a while. The nurse came in and helped me get dressed. She led my back to where my mom was waiting.

I could tell my mom had been crying, her eyes were red and she had a tissue wadded in her hand she was trying to hide from me. We rode home in silence. We were home by supper. We never spoke of it again.

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