Aborted Women: In Their Own Words

My boyfriend hasn't mentioned the baby once

by Jenny
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Hi. I came upon your site tonight, and it inspired me to share my story, I guess. So, here it goes ...

I am 19 years old, and a freshman in college. I have been dating my boyfriend for two years, and we have been living together for a year now. He is the one who took my virginity, and we have always had unprotected sex. I was told I could not get pregnant because my body temperature is too low, and couldn't handle sperm, in other words, couldn't keep the sperm alive. We had both been tested for STD's and so on, so I had no problem with unprotected sex. I secretly wanted a baby, but knew it wouldn't happen.

This January, my child was conceived. I found out Friday, February the 13th that I was pregnant. As soon as I found out, I already looked pregnant. I gained weight so fast. At three o'clock in the morning, I collapsed on my bathroom floor in fear and joy of seeing the positive sign on the test. My boyfriend came home from work at seven in the morning, and I was very quiet. We were watching TV, and I blurted out that I was pregnant. I started crying, and he held me and said that everything would be okay. Sso, we went out to eat. He said that I was already eating like a cow, which was funny at the time.

Time went on, and I gained more and more weight, and was so happy. I was going to be a mommy. At nine weeks, I had a horrible pain. My boyfriend was out of town, so I took myself to the hospital. They checked me out, gave me an ultrasound, and told me it was an ovarian cyst, but everything was perfect. I saw my little baby on the sonogram. He was perfect. I could see his little heart, and he just looked so cozy. I went home, and my boyfriend called me from his mother's house, where he was staying while he was out of town. I told him about the hospital, and he was very worried, but I assured him all was well with our child.

A couple of days later, I talked to him again. He started having doubts about the baby. He said the child would keep him from his dreams and goals. That never made any sense to me, because he really had never told me he had any in the first place. I cried and cried. I couldn't believe that the man that I love could not want a child -- our child. He would go on and off about wanting our baby. One day, we would sit and think of names, and the next, he would tell me that it will ruin our lives. I never knew what to think. He came back into town, and things really had not changed. I was still happy and pregnant, and he was still doubting everything. He had brought up abortion, but I never gave it a second thought. I wanted my baby, and I was going to have it.

We put off talking about it for awhile, and I thought all was well. One day, he brought up abortion again. He and I started flipping through the phone books. I didn't know why. I didn't want an abortion. not at all. He called several places to find out more information, and five minutes later, an appointment was set for me. I was numb. I had no idea what I was going to go through the next day. We went to bed, and woke up the next morning, and caught the bus to the clinic. I was still oblivious as to what was going on. I knew I was going to get an abortion, but it just didn't register in my head. We got to the clinic, and I filled out the paperwork. I peed in a cup and went and sat in the waiting room. I lost control of all of my emotions. I didn't want this, but I thought it was too late to turn back; now I know I just should have gotten up and left. The doctor took blood work, and such, as I sat and cried. I couldn't believe what I was doing, but it still had not sunk in. I remember all of the nurses faces, and the music that was playing. It was "Kenny G." The counselor took me and told what was going to happen. she went through, step-by-step, the procedure, aftercare, and gave me a little book on feelings. I cried and cried, and could barely talk. She knew I didn't want to go through with it. I walked out of her office and into another. This nurse gave me a pill for pain. I took it, and went back to the waiting room to sit with my boyfriend, still crying.

Then, the nurse called me again. It was my turn for the procedure. I walked back to the room with her, changed into a gown, and sat on the table. The doctor came in and told me everything that was going to happen. I didn't hear a word of it. I was off in my own little world. He laid me down, and gave me a routine check-up. He tried to keep the mood light, and stop me from crying. It worked. He began the procedure, and I began blacking out. The nurse kept saying, "Stay here. Stay here with us." Trying to keep me from completely passing out. Five minutes later, it was all over. I couldn't stand up, I was so lightheaded. I didn't really know what happened. Eventually, I got up, got dressed, and was walked to the recovery room. I still couldn't cry; it didn't seem real. I sat in a recliner, as a nurse took my vital signs. Half an hour later, I was free to go. I walked to the waiting room, calm and collected. I sat next to my boyfriend, and started crying again. I couldn't believe what I had just done. I had my baby killed. We caught a cab home, and I cried the entire way. When we got home, I sat on the edge of the bad, totally numb. My boyfriend asked me about it. I told him, and he didn't say a word. I was prescribed some drugs to help me heal, and he walked down to the drugstore to get them for me. Then, I went to sleep.

I woke up later, and called my mom and my best friend to tell them I had a miscarriage. No one, except my boyfriend, knows what really happened. I took a couple days off of work and school, to try to be able to concentrate on everything. It still had not hit me. I cried day and night because I lost my baby, but really hadn't realized I killed him.

I named my baby Daimon. That is what we had planned for a boy anyway. It is a little over a month since everything happened. My boyfriend has not mentioned the baby once, nor any of his "dreams or goals", for that matter. I still cry a whole lot over it; I would have been nineteen weeks already. My boyfriend does not understand how badly this hurts, or how badly I wanted my baby. He gets frustrated with me because I am in a bad mood a lot of the time. I can't help it. I cannot believe what I did. I pray to God to let me get pregnant again. I would never repeated what I did to my baby, Daimon. Even though it has only been a month, I want to conceive soon, and carry this baby, and care for it, unlike I did Daimon. I have fallen into this deep hole of depression, and have no one to talk to about it. I am very alone. Very, very alone. I won't talk to my boyfriend about it, because he doesn't want to hear about it. And I can't talk to my friends, because they all know it as a miscarriage. I have to live with this deep, dark secret for the rest of my life.

And as I sit here, crying while writing this, I keep thinking that I am going to wake up, and this was all a bad dream. I know I am already awake. I regret more than anything what I did. I would give my own life for Daimon, but instead, I took his.

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Posted 12 Sep 2000.

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