Roe V Wade and Obama V McCain and My Choice
I deeply exhale before I write this.
Those of you who know me know that I was a Republican all my life, up until a few years ago.
Those of you who know me know that Iraq had a lot to do with my choice.
My Choice also had a lot to do with my choice.
My Choice was to have an abortion at the age of 41. My first-ever pregnancy.
My Choice was to do this because I felt I had no other choice.
My boyfriend and I, at the time, were pretty much convinced that I was sterile. I had given up contraception and tried to follow a rhythm method for ages. I planned to get my tubes tied soon. We were, even then, nearing the end of our romantic relationship and moving towards what is now our friendship. We did not foresee it coming.
I didn’t realize until two months in that I was even pregnant. One month in, and I had a terrible sinus infection that required a 4-day dose of the new Super Antibiotic. A week later, my doctor determined that the 4-day dose had not been enough, and she gave me another. So when I missed my period, I thought that perhaps it had something to do with the powerful drugs I’d been given. I had no signs of pregnancy at all, at that point.
The second month, and I was suddenly unable to stay up past 8 pm at night. I was feeling queasy right after dinner and had to lie down. I still didn’t know that I was pregnant, until I found that when I lied on my belly at night, my breasts hurt. This was at the end of the second month.
One week into the third month, my boyfriend and I decided to buy a home-pregnancy-test kit. We read the instructions together and decided we should wait until morning to take it. That night before I took the test, we sat down and realistically tried to formulate a plan wherein we could keep the baby, or if not, let me carry it to term for adoption.
My boyfriend pointed out that I am not the healthiest of women. I am overweight, and I smoke. And, I was 41 years old. We determined that the first two months were not the best act of acting towards a formative and healthy embryo, between my smoking and drinking beer and taking all the antibiotics. We also determined that we live paycheck-to-paycheck and could not realistically afford to keep a baby and raise it.
Sure, my sisters, and his, would have gladly given their support, their hand-me-downs, their babysitting skills, their own children’s -- and grandchildren’s -- leftover strollers, cribs, car-seats, clothes.
Sure, we sat there and daydreamed that we could do this. We let ourselves get excited about the baby to the point where we pictured what it would look like. We even picked out names. We made plans and talked throughout the night about how we could work this out, and went to bed hopeful.
The next morning, when my pregnancy test proved positive, I was alone. My boyfriend was still asleep.
The next morning, looking in the mirror at my 41-year-old self, I said to my reflection: How on earth can you be a mother when you still need one so badly right now, it isn’t funny?
I have a mother, but that’s beside the point. Let’s just say that I’m sometimes my mother’s most beloved black sheep.
I had a boyfriend, but when he woke up to the news that we tested positive, he said first and foremost, “What we said last night was wishful thinking”.
In short, women in my position do not deserve a baby, nor need one. Women in my position don’t make very healthy surrogates either.
So we made the appointment with our family doctor, and she referred us to the clinic, and I will always, always love my ex-boyfriend to this day for being so good to me that day. He stuck by me, held my hand for as long as he could, and he took care of me when we got home.
But that’s not the end of the story. Turns out, 2 weeks after the abortion, I’m still testing 80% positive as pregnant. 3 weeks later, I’m testing 70% positive.
I went to three different OBGYN’s and none could figure it out. They did a sonogram, nothing to be found. They did blood tests every few days, nothing to be found other than I was still pregnant, yet not.
Finally, a month later, and I’m only testing 11% positive, so they think everything is now okay and there’s no need for a second d&c. The last doctor who spoke to me about it determined that there had been something wrong with the fetus in the first place. It had not been normal, and therefore the abnormal and unexplained discharge and the continued positive tests.
It took me ages to get over all of this. It still bothers me that I’m not woman enough to want a child. It still bothers me that I don’t take enough care of myself to warrant having a child, let alone raising it. I’m being honest. I’m a woman with a difficult past and upbringing and very low self esteem. I would not want to wish a child on me. And obviously, the child I carried was not normal enough to wish me, or anyone else, into being its mother either.
If the Republicans had their way, I would’ve had no choice but to either go to an illegal clinic and break the law, or I would’ve given birth to a child that was severely malformed, if I and/or the child had made it that far.
Before you judge me further, can I just ask you this: Do you know others who have made the same choice but for different reasons? And would you wish on them the stigma of having broken the law on top of everything else? Please tell me you wouldn’t.
Those of you who accuse me of being so radical a Democrat now, knowing that I was once a Republican, please don’t judge my move again.
Please look at those who need Democracy more than you do, and all that it stands for.
Please remember Roe V Wade and all that it means.
Thank you.
