My Abortions Story Part 2: Complications and the business of payment

On the day of the abortion, I had lunch at the dorms with Eva, though I didn’t live there, and then we drove to the clinic. I wore those track type pants that swooshed, with a long tee shirt. After a short wait, I was called back to the counselor’s office. She was kind, and asked me questions. I told her the father didn’t want me to have the abortion, but I had made up my mind. I was frightened but sure. Then, I went back to sit with Eva for a few minutes.

My doctor was a woman, maybe in her forties or fifties. She had long, straight, silver-gray hair. Her face was softly lined, and she was calm. I remember bright lights and the whirring vacuum machine, and that’s it. After the procedure was finished, the doctor and a nurse helped me to the recovery area, which was a small room with two couches, a table with juice and cookies, and some magazines. I rested there for 45 minutes. They let Eva come in. When the time came, the nurse nodded and I got up, already reaching for the door handle, and then everything went black and I was sitting on the couch again. I’d passed out. I felt nauseated and closed my eyes, swallowing mouthfuls of saliva. More juice and cookies, and 45 minutes later I got up again, slower this time, and black splashed my eyes again. Over and over I rested, tried to get up, and passed out. Eva looked a little worried when the nurse came in and checked my stomach. She paused. “Does your stomach normally look this way?” I looked at Eva. I didn’t even know if my own stomach was pooched out more than it normally was. I didn’t even know what my own stomach looked like, the part of my body I’d always hated. This is how oblivious I was to what was going on with my body. I had no idea if it was bloated, and I told her so.

Eva and I had made plans to go to our friends’ house, the two friends who I mentioned earlier, so that they could take care of me. They were cooking spaghetti, and we’d watch Friends. It was a Thursday. But the afternoon passed, and the clinic closed. I passed out repeatedly, and everyone around me was nervous. But I was calm. I’m not sure if it was just the weakness, or my general obliviousness to things happening around me, but I never got worried or frightened. Finally, around 8 p.m. the doctor came back to the clinic. She felt around on my stomach and said I might have a clot. She’d need to get me back in the procedure room to take a look and get it out if needed. But she’d need help.

She and Eva grabbed either arm and we stood up fast and made it to the exam bed just as I went limp. I woke up and vomited. I wasn’t nervous, but I was shaking uncontrollably. The doctor started up the vacuum machine again, the rumbling filling the room, and I looked over to see Eva in the room, her arms wrapped around her stomach. I moaned—I hadn’t wanted her here for this. She was pregnant and I knew she had to be having some conflicting stuff going on. But soon they called Eva to duty and asked her to squeeze my IV bag. Apparently I had an IV by this time. She stood by my head and told me to look at her, and I did. “Breathe,” she kept saying. “Breathe, pal.” And I’d take a breath and hold it until she reminded me again.

After, I was able to leave the recovery room standing, and we drove to our friends’ house. The spaghetti was cold, and they had antoehr friend over, who didn’t’ know about the abortion. I’m a pro at glossing over though, and I sat cross-legged on the floor eating microwaved spaghetti. When the friend used the bathroom, Eva told me that there was blood on my sock. They hadn’t taken my socks off when they put me on the exam table the second time, and a neat round circle of bright red blood covered the heel of my white ankle sock.

The abortion cost $360, and my friends paid for it. I had just moved back to school, and I hadn’t found a job yet. The father had promised to send half of the money to me before he’d gone to California and I’d come back to college, but it never showed up, so I had to ask my friends, who had a little money. Two friends lent me $180 each, and I paid them back bit by bit over the next year.

Despite the complications, which were actually quite serious, despite the heavy stress the whole situation put me under, I remained somehow apart, somehow unaware and calmer than I should have been. I guess it was my body’s way of getting me through it. I’m learning more and more to trust my body. Eva, who is now a labor and delivery nurse, told me recently that I was hemorrhaging that day, and that I could have died. I went to her for her memories of my abortion experience, because I guess I kept a lot of that stuff on the periphery of my mind, and she filled in some of the blanks for me.

Having been rather out of it during the entire pregnancy and termination, you might think I’d have these great feelings of regret or distress or despair now that I’ve had time and opportunity to look back and reassess those weeks. But instead, I am calm. I have not regretted that abortion for one second. I have not wondered what would have happened if, because I’m more concerned with what did happen and what’s happening now, which is raising my three beautiful children with a beautiful, beautiful man.

And I am thankful every day for what my friends did for me. Without them, I probably would have allowed myself to ignore the pregnancy for too long. And if I hadn't ignored it, I would have gone to the Pregnancy "Care" Center by myself. I would have gone to the clinic by myself. But probably, that wouldn't have happened, because without my two friends who paid for it, I wouldn't have been able to afford the abortion. Thank you, friends. Because you were there I was able to use my reproductive choice, and it was the bravest choice I could make at that time. I will try to pay it forward.