The Abortion Closet
A three part series of a personal journey from being silent and marginalized about my abortion to being open and honest about my experience.
Dr. w f harrison has written some powerful diaries about abortion, abortion providers, and the pro-choice and anti-choice movements. All of his diaries have significance to me, but none more so than the one I read this morning, with his request for Daily Kossacks to come forward with their stories. Today, I wrote a highly personal story, one that I confess I didn't spell check or proof read. It was an emotional diary for me to write, but not for the reasons that most people, pro-choice or anti-choice would assume. I had an abortion 12 years ago, and I consider it to be one of the best decisions of my life. The diary became emotional, because for the first time, I felt that I could fully tell my story, and acknowledge that my decision to abort was not made of the mythos of either the pro-choice or the anti-choice camps. The pro-choice camp, in order to circumvent the charge of being anti-life, anti-baby, tries to tell us women that abortion is a difficult emotional decision for any woman, one that she makes under extreme emotional duress. The anti-choice camp would have us believe that women in their frail pregnancy states are irrational creatures who would never voluntarily commit murder of their own children, but instead are coerced by a materialistic society, a boyfriend/husband or family member. Both myths do damage to women, in both myths we see the damaging anti-woman philosophy that women are emotional creatures who cannot be trusted with body sovereignty . At best, these myths get women a pat on the head, and I'm sorry you had to make that choice. At its worst, the myth that women make their abortion decisions based on emotions, leads to decisions that limit a woman's right to her body such as thisone
Tonight, I am starting a three part series on my journey out of the abortion closet. First, an apology to the LGBT community. The image of being the closet, and the personal and actual histories of the LGBT community's struggle to come out of the closet, first to by acknowledging who they are to themselves and their friends, family, and colleagues, and to have society accept them as human beings, instead "the other" is a profile in courage. I don't use the words, "abortion closet" lightly, nor do I mean to insult or degrade anyone who is in or out of the sexual orientation closet. Instead, the fact that women who have had abortions are marginalized, forces us to stay in the closet that becomes our prisons, much as the sexual orientation closet became and is a prison to many in the LGBT community. It is with the utmost respect that I borrow the word "coming out of the Abortion Closet". I am sorry if any of the LGBT community feels that I am minimizing their ongoing struggle for human rights by borrowing their term. I only borrow it because it's image is so strong and powerful . If over the course these diaries, a new term describing a woman who is finally willing to acknowledge her abortion and to say that she doesn't fit the standard abortion myth, I will be more than happy to use that term instead.
The first part of the story will be a cleaned up version of my comment this morning i.e., proofread, spellchecked, and almost grammatically correct (I am a weak writer) expansion on my abortion and how I came to make one of the best decisions of my life. The second part will detail my journey out of the abortion closet to pro-choice activist, and how I decided to start owning and telling my abortion story. The third part will be ideas and advice on how to come out of the abortion closet. My hope is that I can on some level start to let women who have had abortions and don't feel guilty, or who didn't feel overly emotional when they made their decision some peace. I also hope that as we start telling our stories to each other, we will start to see that we are not alone in this journey to acknowledgement of who we are, and the decisions we made.
Let me start with my abortion story.
I always knew that I didn't want children. It wasn't so much that I hated children, in fact, I loved and still love children. I love to watch their little minds learn, and love watching them explore. I am known as the world's best babysitter, and somehow instinctively, I always seem to know when a stern No, and the dreaded librarian stare is in order, and when a child needs to be held. From the time I was a child, I was told what a great mother I would be, however, in my heart I always knew that being mother would personally constrain me and my spirit.
It wasn't until I was will into a childcare career that I realized that being a full-time parent was not something I wanted. I would whisper this to the moms I knew, and they would always say the same thing to me, "it's different when they are your own". I would do my best to digest this idea, however, the same things that I complained about the children in my care, they need so much time, I can't wait until they are at a play-date, oh my gosh, is it nap-time yet?, why can't I go somewhere besides MacDonald's for lunch, do I have to get overexcited about a a finger-painting that looks like puke again? were the same thoughts that mothers expressed. I loved the children in my care, but I loved it even more when they were going home, or it was the weekend.
During this time, I decided to become a paramedic, and applied to a major city fire department, I also got married. My husband and I talked about children, and both of us deciding that our jobs, he was a firefighter/paramedic, and our lifestyles as well as my anti-stay at home motherhood stance would preclude us from having children. On occasion, my husband would say, "well, maybe we would make good parents, or we shouldn't rule it out completely. My standard response was, you carry the child in your body, you birth it, and you raise it to adulthood, I have no interest in ever being a mother. Right away, I knew I would resent any children. We finally compromised that if we ever did change our minds, we would adopt an older child out of foster care, and my husband would assume the primary caregiver role.
Somehow, if there is a god, I think he laughs when we mention our plans. At the time, I had a difficult struggle with birth control pills. Even low dose pills caused this never ending yeast infection(for the doctors out there who will say the pill doesn't cause yeast infections, I researched it, and yes indeed, the pill can have that rare side effect in some women. and found an almost feminist gynecologist who agreed with me and my research ). I did make appointments to try to get my tubes tied, but I could never find a doctor willing to do the surgery for me at my "young age"(28), as I might change my mind.
So, my solution to the birth control dilemma was to use a combination of spermicides and Natural Family Planning. I don't know if I conceived the night my husband asked me about my cycle when we discovered we were out of spermicide and I said it was fine(because according the chart, it was), or if I just got lucky was in one of the 8% failure rate of the spermicide . Whatever it was, I became pregnant, and this unwelcome news couldn't have come at a worse time for my career. Not only was I becoming a fantastic paramedic, but I was also accepted into the fire academy and had started my training.
The day that I peed on the stick and got the double lines, I think I panicked. I made my husband go out and buy two different brands, because godsdamnit, I DID NOT want to be pregnant, and it had to be the kit's fault not mine. All three kits he brought home showed the same result, pregnant. I remember the third check with the exact results, I laid my head down on the sink.
My husband and I sat down and talked about what we were going to do. I knew that I would be put on leave from the academy, and I was not going to sacrifice my career for a child. I think my exact words were, "if you want a martyr run down to the Catholic church they have plenty to spare". Finally, we came to decision we would wait a month before deciding what to do as to quote me, "things happen you know".
Then about another week, my morning sickness started. Only it wasn't morning sickness, it was a never ending round of vomiting my guts out, from the time I woke up until I went to bed. Sometimes when my stomach was empty I would vomit the bile left over. At first, I thought it was morning sickness, knowing full well that morning sickness is a misnomer. However, it got worse and worse, and I found myself becoming dehydrated, including having to go the ER twice after a day at the academy. My gynecologist diagnosed me with hyperemeis garvidum, and about the only thing I could keep down was about seven saltines and some 7-up, and that was on a good day. My weight dropped, and the guys at the academy thought that I have an eating disorder, even one of the instructors pulled me aside to talk to me about being strong enough. And still, I hesitated about scheduling my abortion, because what if I was wrong? What if I was supposed to be a mother, and what if my husband did want a baby. In my personal experience in listening to women, most of them didn't want their children, but their boyfriends/husbands talked them into it. A far cry from the myth that boyfriends/husbands talk women into abortions! I have to say my husband never talked me into keeping the child, but the doubt that he wanted a child stayed with me, and I knew I would never go through this again.
In any case, one Saturday, I was lying on the floor after 26 hours of vomiting, and having my husband start an IV line on me.(Doctor approved and we were medics!) for dehydration. The cool tiles felt good, but then as my head was spinning, I started vomiting again, throwing up the saltines and 7-up, and then the violent retching only comes with bile vomit. I lay on the floor, my hands on my belly, and I knew I wanted my life back, that I didn't want a child, or to make my husband happy, or my mom happy to have a grandchild by her only daughter, but to make me happy. I wanted my life, my life where I was valued for me, for my skills, my ability to save people to give them a second chance. I knew that I might get through this pregnancy, but I didn't want that life, I didn't want 40 weeks of carrying a child, and I didn't want to be a mom, and I certainly didn't want to spend the next 6 or so months lying on the floor with a goddamn IV in my arm, puking my guts out. Another wave of nausea hit me, and I sat up and rested my head on the toilet for another round of violent vomiting. As my husband helped me back to the floor, I put my hands down towards my stomach and screamed "I Fucking HATE YOU!" towards the parasite in my belly. I felt a lurch in my stomach after I said that. And, then I knew, I knew I would HATE this child. I would HATE her/him for hijacking my body, I WOULD hate the birth experience I would be forced to have, I WOULD HATE either going through an adoption process or being chained to a child for at least 18 years. And at that moment, even in my sickness, even in a somewhat emotional state rational thought I could ever have came to me, I need to have an abortion.
It wasn't that much longer when I sitting on Abortion Thursday at PP. My abortion was a nonevent. Basically, I peed in a cup, got confirmed that I was pregnant, and had to meet with an counselor. I was asked a series of questions, even ones that asked me if I was in a domestically abusive situation. She told me the state mandate of something about breast cancer and abortion, and I rolled my eyes. We talked about birth control, and I shared that I couldn't find a doctor that who would do a tubal on me because I might change my mind. The Counselor rolled her eyes at that, and gave me some pamphlets on organizations who would do a tubal ligation.
At no time, did any one on the staff try to talk me into an abortion. The procedure itself was simple, as I said, I have had more traumatically painful dental procedures. I did throw up when I got home, but my gynecologist thinks that it might have been a reactions to hormones, as I have been sensitive to them.It was a classroom day at the academy the next day, and I was there and believe it or not fine.
I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. The one where I would wake up screaming, crying and gnashing my teeth because I had an abortion. I kept waiting for the guilt to happen, or some type of addiction to happen for me to dull the pain of my "choice". You know what, it hasn't happened. I have not felt guilty once about my decision, except maybe a little guilt that I don't feel guilty. I do feel anger when I am told that it must have been a horrible decision make or that they are "sorry" I had to go through that. When I respond, "sorry?" why would you be sorry? It was the best life decision I ever made," people have very visceral reactions and usually physically recoil from me.
Two years ago, I made a vow to be open and honest about my abortion experience. I have had my militant moments, (hint, don't wear your I had an abortion T-shirt to the Midwestern bible belt mall). In retrospective, I made the best decision, and while I can't say it was totally unemotional, it was a rational sane decision. One thing I will say is that people will say to me that I had a "good abortion" because my health was in danger, but the fact is, I would have decided to have an abortion anyway, the hyperemesis was just the icing on the cake so to speak.
Well there it is. My hope is not to focus attention on me, but maybe to encourage women to start speaking out about their experiences, especially if they don't feel guilty. Oh, and for the record, I didn't get my tubes tied, but I always made sure we had backups to our backups. . And can I say that my ex-husband was the most supportive person during this whole experience, and his defining moment became when he said, "you could have done this anytime you wanted too, it was always your choice."