Aborted Women: In Their Own Words

Not Like the Movies

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Itís not like it is in the movies, you know. Protesters are required to stay a certain distance away. Thereís no one telling you about the Lordís forgiveness or about fingernails. When you drive up there are security guards and secret passwords. The lobby is completely silent. Itís not full of pregnant teens. Itís full of a wide array of women. They span every ethnicity, every culture, and each there for a different reason. Itís like going to any doctorís office except everyone knows why everyone else is there. Names are called, one by one. Each awaits their turn, unaware of what awaits. When the nurse finally called my name I was taken to an examination room. The nurse drew some blood and ran some test. She led me to second waiting room. This waiting room had couches and a TV. Of course, no one was watching the TV, I think Tyra was on. After waiting there I was called again. The nurse led me into a very small room, about the side of a closet. In that closet was another person, full of information. She asked so many questions and in truth, I asked her questions too. The both of us decided that the operation was the best choice. I was scared, very scared. She led me into yet another room. In this room, there was a doctor and two nurses. One of the nurses was there for the doctor and the other nurse was there for me. God bless that nurse. After I undressed and laid back on the table, that nurse took my hand and told me to squeeze when it hurt. And it hurt. The other nurse gave me pain killers but it didnít help. I squeezed that poor nurses hand so hard Iím surprised I didnít break it. Immediately afterward, my body did not react well to the medication. I fainted. That poor nurse dressed me and stood by me until I could walk. She led me into the recovery room. I could barely see, let alone think. The two African-American were already in the recovery room. The nurse laid me in a chair and went about her business. The other women in the room had been in there long enough to know that I was not ok. They placed a heating pad on my abdomen and gave me their crackers. The three of us talked about what we had experienced very freely. It was an awesome experience. We three strangers bonded in a way that most people only dream about. We had been through something that most people donít experience. Others had helped them and they helped me. There were no barriers. We had a mutual experience and all respected and understood each other.

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Posted Nov 11, 2008

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