Guess who just became a statistic?
I'm pregnant.
There's no real story, but we're pregnant because
we're total idiots. I'm not on the Pill because it made me feel well, like I
feel this week -- sore and twinge-y. And weepy and unsexy. We're way more retro,
we use a diaphragm and spermicide, which works well and I like it. But we had
unprotected sex twice this month. I figured there was no
way I was going to get knocked up a good two weeks before ovulation. Apparently Chuck's swimmers are mighty, or I'm more fertile than I thought. Who knows.
Anyway. I'm surprised at how chill I feel
about this. It's a non-decision. It's very, very early in the pregnancy (I
should be on my period now, and I'm not, and I just had a feeling that
something was up since I feel all sore and twinge-y, so I took three at-home
tests last night -- all positive). I'm going to call the Women's Clinic in an
hour, make an appointment and go from there. I'm hoping this can be done without
surgery -- no reason why not, I'm perfectly healthy and, as I said, barely four
weeks along.
I always pictured that making this decision would
be nerve-wracking and awful and full of guilt and shame. I don't feel any of
it, I feel very calm and assured. This is the only way to handle this.
Chuck is being a saint, of course. Making me laugh, offering
to pay for all of it (I have some emergency money for just this kind of thing,
but it'll still make a dent in my student finances), offering to make our
engagement official -- I told him absolutely not, under no circumstances was I
going to let him propose because he knocked me up, how cliche is that?
I hope everything goes smoothly at the Clinic. This is
2007, right? *fingers crossed*
* * *
Actually, and I just thought of this,
the only part of this whole thing that makes me sad is that I can't tell my
mom. She knows everything about me and it just feels weird to not have her
involved. *sigh* but she's vehemently anti-abortion and would never forgive me
for not having this baby.
* * *
Being pregnant is awful. I have never felt
so shitty in my whole life. I've felt *exhausted* for the last few weeks --
which I now know is because of the baby -- and this week I
started to feel sick, too. This is not for me, not now, not with school and work and court and a new puppy and everything else -- the conference this weekend! -- on my plate.
I wish I didn't have to go to the conference, because
I was completely disengaged, sick, tired and emotionally vulnerable and with people I don't know well. Actually -- I think this
was the worst weekend ever. It's nice to be home and snuggle with the man and
the dog. Also, I am never sleeping on someone's floor ever again, pregnant or
otherwise. At the ripe age of 25, I'm officially too old for that.
I wish I was a better pro-choice poster child, but I'm
really not. The more I think about it, the more I realize that we *could* have
this baby and it would be far better off than most unwanted, unplanned kids; I'm in a committed relationship, Chuck would be present in the kid's life
no matter what, we're well on our way to financial stability, we have advanced
degrees and will be in a position to make good in the nest few years, we have a ton of support
from family and friends, we're not crazy drug addicts . . . you know?
So why an
abortion?
Because I don't feel like being a mom right now.
I guess that's a good enough reason.
* * *
I was thinking about what
I said last night -- about how this unplanned pregnancy would be better off
than most -- and I've decided that I was wrong. This kid would not be better
off than most because I would resent it.
I would resent feeling like I had to take the first job
that came along instead of holding out for something I love because I have to
care for the kid.
I would resent putting my parents or Chuck's parents in
the role of grandparent/caretaker while we get our shit together.
I would resent spending my earnings, the earnings that I
want to buy a house with, pay off my loans with, have a fun wedding with, on a
kid before I was ready for it.
I would resent being a cliche -- I would resent people
thinking that our engagement is because I got knocked up, not because we really
love each other and want this for ourselves.
I would resent the fact that God or chance or someone took
my ability to plan my own family out of my hands (ok, arguably I did that
myself when we had unprotected sex but for fuck's sake, everyone should be
allowed one freebie, right? I'm all about second chances) and made me have a
baby when I didn't want to.
I would resent that fact that I can't give this baby the
life it deserves at this point. I always pictured that my babies would be
pampered and spoiled beyond recognition -- a full library of children's books,
an account for college already in the bank, a home nearby good schools, parents
with great jobs and savings and a safety net. I won't be able to do that for a
while, and this poor kid would get the shaft when it should have been a little
prince.
This morning I told Chuck all this (my god he's being so good about dealing with this, and me, and
my relentless all-consuming crazy) and I *think* he thought I was a little bit
evil, although he didn't say it. He did say that none of this is the baby's
fault, and that I can't resent a kid for things totally out of its control.
But I would.
He's a better person than I am.
* * *
T-minus 23 hours until my first appointment at the abortion clinic.
WHY CAN'T I DO THIS AT A HOSPITAL?????
Yesterday I had a physical therapy appointment at the university
hospital. I had to walk through the women's hospital on the way there -- it's
pretty cool, they do all women's health stuff from childbirth and pregnancy and
fertility to mammography and other women's health considerations. It's a neat
hospital, it feels all warm and cozy, it's part of a larger system of health centers,
it's staffed by women's health experts. Why can't I get an abortion here?
Alternatively, why can't I get an abortion from my regular
gynecologist? I *love* her. She makes me feel calm, she treats me respectfully,
she has great bedside manner. I would feel so much better about all this if she
was the one doing it.
Why do I have to go to a clinic I've never been to, get
treated by a doctor I've never met, and just have to *deal* because it's the
only clinic in town -- so if I hate the place, or hate the doctor, or have a
mean nurse, or just get the creeps from the building, I pretty much have no
choice but to suck it up and go ahead with it.
Pro-choice my ass. I have no fucking choices here. I have
a scary clinic with protesters outside or an unwanted kid.
Seriously, I am so fucking angry about this.
*ever the pro-active baby lawyer, goes off to research abortion case law*
* * *
Ok, so I just found like 30 cases about
abortion clinic bombings (and other violence) and now I'm scared shitless.
I hate Ohio
so much.
* * *
Thus far, the only truly
unpleasant person I've dealt with was someone from our school hospital -- as
soon as I realized i was pregnant, I called the women's clinic. Here's the
convo:
receptionist: hello, university health?
me: may i have the women's clinic please?
receptionist: all their lines are busy, i can help you.
me: thank you, but i'd much rather speak to the women's
clinic.
receptionist: well, tell me what you need and i'll connect
you to the right person.
me: ok. i'm pregnant and i don't want to be any more.
recpetionist: oh my! we don't do that.
When I finally did get in touch with the women's
clinic, they referred me to the abortion clinic I'm going to tomorrow, and were quite
nice about it.
* * *
This whole situation has been a
reminder to think twice.
I mean -- I've been staunchly pro-choice
ever since i knew what it meant, but I was one of those people who always
figured, "well, I won't tell anyone else what to do with their bodies, but
I will never get an abortion."
Well, in reality, I just never thought I would be pregnant
when I didn't want to be. I'm a responsible adult, I'm educated about birth
control, I'm wealthy enough and assertive enough and pro-active enough to have
access to birth control and feminine health issues and I just figured I'd never
even have to make that decision.
And I was totally wrong, and now I'm learning that yeah,
I'm okay with terminating my own pregnancy. I was reading
online today that this baby's heart will start to beat soon -- around five
weeks. And at first I felt a little bit of remorse, because that heartbeat
seemed to make the baby a baby, not a bean/tadpole/cell mass whatever. But, um,
I've kind of already dealt with the fact that this is a baby. I don't see it as
a clump of cells, I see it as a baby. I can feel it in my belly twinging, it's
doing something in there, it's trying to create a place to live and grow.
But
it's not this baby's time. It makes me sad,
but it would make me sadder to bring my child into the world and not be able to
be the best mom I'm capable of being.
I don't really believe in an afterlife. But, um, if
there is one and I face this baby at some point -- weird thought, but I've got a lot of those going on lately -- I'll be able to tell the baby
that it just wasn't the right time. And if the baby is half as smart as Chuck and I
are, the baby will understand.
* * *
This is the right decision. In nine months I'll be jobless, insurance-less, moving back to California
and studying for -- and sitting for -- the Bar Exam. Although Chuck and I are probably getting
married in the next two years or so, we don't want to be married just
yet, we want to wait until we're settled. And I never planned to have
kids unless I was financially stable enough to support them completely.
I don't feel guilty or ashamed or scared or like a fallen
woman or anything ridiculous. Chuck and I made a mistake. People fuck
up. I don't feel badly that we made a mistake. I don't think I'll be
punished by fate or karma or God. This is the right thing to do.
* * *
Chuck took the day off work and is going to take me to the abortion clinic. He's
in charge of making sure I don't engage any of the protesters.
I really want
him to be there the whole time -- like in there with the doctor and all that.
For two reasons -- (a) I want his support, (b) this is his pregnancy too, and I
want him to be able to look at the ultrasound, see the
baby/bean/tadpole/whatever it looks like at barely five weeks, and still feel
like he's making the right choice. I don't know if that will be possible. I
hope it is.
Also, I'm not sure there will be protesters, but the
clinic receptionist told me there usually are a few die hards, even during the
week. Chuck actually grew up in a Christian fundie church so he's been prepping
me for some of the worst of what I can reasonably expect -- stuff he's observed
first-hand.
* * *
The clinic was surreal. I'm a little angry. Most people
were very kind, but I had to jump through a gazillion legislative hoops,
including a counseling session with the most patronizing woman I've ever met.
Abortion may be legal but it sure as hell isn't easy or
readily available.
By Ohio law, you have to be counseled. WHICH
SUCKS.
She -- my "counselor" -- was just. . . patronizing. I don't know, not mean, but when she asked me
how I'd feel afterwards and I said, "relieved, and ready to take my
finals," she was like, "oh, well, that's normal sweetie. nothing to
feel guilty about." and I said: "I don't." Like she expected me to feel guilty about this choice.
And then there was this precious exchange:
Me: Well, I realize that we could, you know,
technically, have this kid and it would probably turn out all right, but I'm
just not ready for it.
Counselor: What do you mean?
Me: Um, we have a good support network, and, um, we're
not totally broke and I just think if we had no other options, we could
probably make it work out okay.
Counselor: So why don't you want to do that?
Me: I'm not ready.
Counselor: Do you feel like you should be?
Me: No. (Thinks: What is *wrong* with you?) I want to
be able to give my kids more than this.
Counselor: But you said you have a great support system.
Me: But I'm not ready.
![Rolling Eyes]()
Ultimately it all turned out okay, I'm kind of giving her
the benefit of the doubt that she was just pressing and trying to get into it a
little more, but I did think she was, well, patronizing.
I'm jangry that I had to do that at
all, much less with someone second-guessing me and calling it
"counseling."
I mean, here's a rundown of the BS I've gone through to get an abortion thus far:
(1) Called my University Health people, dealt with
unprofessional, judgmental receptionist.
(2) Referred to clinic, as opposed to preferable
hospital/women's clinic where I know people, have positive relationships with the doctors and staff and feel comfortable.
(3) Made to listen to five minute taped explanation of the
procedure in gruesome detail.
(4) Upon arriving at clinic, dealing with protesters
shouting "mommy don't kill me" and "you're going to hell,"
then going through a metal detector and having all my belongings searched.
(5) Meeting with clinic person #1, who again told me in
detail all about the procedure, then gave me two fact sheets and a pamphlet
describing the procedure
(6) Meeting with clinic person #2, who was actually quite nice but made Chuck wait in the hall
(7) Meeting with "counselor" who made me feel
like shit, then who explained the procedure in detail AGAIN, then made ME tell
it all back to her, and corrected me (yes, like I was five years old) when I forgot one part.
(8) Waited for one solid hour to meet with the doctor, who introduced
himself, then told me I had to read over like eight other documents (all
informed consent type stuff) and that he'd be back later to give me my pills
(9) After reading and signing everything, waiting another
half hour for him to return, explain it all in detail again, take the pills and
go off on my merry way (well except for the protesters)
Ok, so I know a lot of this is just your run of the mill
informed consent crap that you should have to deal with when undertaking a
serious operation. But most of it isn't. Most of it is bullshit, legislated by
a bunch of assholes who don't trust that I know what's right for my body, in
the hopes that I'll get scared and back down, or in hopes that I won't have the time to wait around at a clinic literally all day just to shake the doctor's hand. Or else it's ignorance and fear
from zealots. And I'm already so, so, so tired, and so weepy and so fucking
miserable already, without any of this. I mean, I start crying every time I
think about my mom. This is fucking hard enough without having to jump through
eleventy-million legislative nightmare hoops.
These are pills. PILLS. Not surgery. I want to be able to
walk into a pharmacy, pick up the pills, buy some pads and some ibuprofen, go
home and be left the hell alone if I ever need to do this again. This is
fucking madness.
* * *
I think the moral of this story is:
never have an abortion in Ohio.
I just called my dad and told him everything -- he did the
best possible thing -- he laughed! He laughed and laughed. And when I told him
more about how Orwellian this whole situation is, he laughed more. And he
reminded me not to lose my sense of humor, and to just look at these people
like they're from the moon.
I mean, if this was a dark comedy type movie, I'd be
laughing my head off at how bizarre everything is.
* * *
I'm in a pretty
interesting place to get an abortion. I don't have many personal
qualms about it, although I did realize I was pregnant almost
immediately -- within a week of conception -- and I've been
communicating with the little one throughout this process. You'd think
that would make this more difficult, but I feel like I've made my peace
with this baby, and we both know that this wasn't our time to be
together. We'll be together down the road, maybe, or in another life. I
feel very calm about that, and I've made my peace internally. Because
I'm having a medical abortion as opposed to a surgical abortion (an
option I was only afforded because I realized I was pregnant so early,
I should point out) I will pass the pregnancy at home tomorrow,
surrounded by my close friends and my boyfriend, in an environment that
I've made calm and peaceful and loving. I'm happy that this was the way
it worked out.
At the same time, I'm also legally educated and I've worked in the
pro-choice community, so I could see every step of this for what it was
-- the waiting period a way to time women out of their choice to
terminate the pregnancy -- the "counseling session" was basically a
woman telling me that I should keep the baby because I'm educated and
capable and in a committed relationship -- the "informed consent"
session was a series of nurses reminding me how painful this will be
and how emotionally fraught it is for everyone -- and they actually
made me feel guilty for not feeling guilty, if that makes any sense at
all. It's madness, and I would laugh if it was a dark comedy -- I'm trying to laugh; but no,
it's sadly real.
* * *
The more I talk about this with people,
the better I feel, and the more I feel like the abortion is not the end of the
world and is not a big deal (I mean, medically not a big deal.
Then again, it hasn't started to hurt yet. Obviously politically it is a big
deal and emotionally it can be a big deal).
I think probably it is still too soon, too fresh for me to tell everyone.
But I am angry, and I am starting to feel like it is necessary to explain that
seemingly "benign" legislative measures like waiting periods,
mandatory counseling, eleventy-billion informed consent discussions and
everything else that has made this so much more inaccessible for me is not
okay, and it's not changing the circumstances that prompted the choice to
abort, and it's not making this world any safer for women.
* * *
Irony of ironies, "Citizen
Ruth" is on TV tonight!!!
*settles in for some dark abortion comedy*
* * *
Oh my god, now Dirty Dancing is on!!!
It's like the abortion double feature!
* * *
So this is how it all went down. If you
want to know how RU works, or just like reading gross stuff read on. If you
are squeamish, skip ahead a few paragraphs to where I rant about how everyone
at the abortion clinic LIED to me and I hate them.
On Friday I took part one of the RU-486 cocktail. I sat
beside the nurse in the abortion clinic with the pill sitting in a little
plastic cup on the table in the room. When I asked her, "Is that it?"
and she said yes, I asked if I could just go ahead and pop it. She told me no,
the doctor had to put it in my hand himself. So we waited for a half hour for
the doctor. She was cool to talk to, though. She asked me why I wanted to be a
criminal defense attorney. I told her: "Because, like you, I think there's
great value to sitting next to someone on the worst day of their life."
She hugged me and I felt like we made an amazing connection. Throughout this
whole ordeal, I will remember her as being a bright light of sense and decency.
The doctor walked in, put the pill in my hand, winked at
me and left.
That was it. Seriously. That's why I had to wait 30
minutes, because the Ohio
legislature said that a doctor has to put the pill in my hand before I can take
it.
I took the pill and left. I felt fine for most of the day.
That evening it started to hurt, a little like period cramps but a little
different. It wasn't too bad, though, I took a few Advil and went to sleep.
24 hours later, I took part 2 of the RU pills -- four
pills that I had to allow dissolve between my gums and cheeks. It took about 40
minutes for them to dissolve. They were gross, chalky and medicinal. I took a
Vicodin and curled up with an electric blanket. Chuck went to take a shower.
15 minutes later, Chuck got out of the shower. I was in
excruciating, debilitating, curled up in the fetal position (ha) weeping pain.
I have never been in that kind of pain in my entire life -- I just cried and
cried. I felt nauseous. I went to the bathroom to throw up (this is why they
make you dissolve the pills). When I was done throwing up, I noticed a ton of
blood, blood clots, and a jello shot-like thing about the size of a half dollar
on the bathroom floor.
I stared at the jello shot thing for awhile, then called
Chuck in to look at it. The pain had mostly subsided at that point, it just
felt like menstrual cramps. I drew my knees up to my chin and we just sat
there, on the bathroom floor, looking at it. We later confirmed on the internet
that that's what a six-week-old miscarriage/abortion looks like.
Chuck scooped it up and we threw it away. We had discussed
beforehand if we wanted to bury it or do any kind of ritual and had decided
against it; seeing the jello shot thing didn't change my mind. As I've posted
before, I had already made my peace with the being inside of me and I was
feeling okay on an emotional/spiritual level.
At that point, the pain had mostly turned into period-type
cramps with period-type bleeding. A few of my friends came over, my dad called
and a lovely bouquet of purple orchids from him arrived. My friends stayed over
most of the night, drinking and smoking (I did neither, seeing as I had
earlier taken the Vicodin). We cooked a huge dinner of steak and spinach. We
talked about feminism and activism and life. It was a really great night.
This morning I woke up with more energy than I've felt in
weeks. No pain. Very little bleeding. We went on a long walk, enjoyed pancakes
at my favorite brunch place and walked through the cemetery across the street
from my house. I feel rested. I feel calm. I feel happy! And normal and ready
to finish my semester strong.
Most of all, though, I feel angry. I am so angry with the
pro-lifers and their pictures of aborted fetuses -- um, I looked at mine and it
looked like a jello shot. No little head and arms and legs and eyes -- a jello
shot. They lie to people. It's not okay.
I am so angry with the "pro-choice" women who
worked in the clinic, with their silly mantras "trust yourself,"
"you are so brave," "you are loved." LAME. I didn't need
pity and comfort, I needed matter-of-fact medical treatment without anyone's
fucking editorializations.
I am so angry with my "counselor" who told me
that I would be in terrible pain, bleeding for a month, unable to run or carry
my 20-lbs. law books. I am so angry with that woman who told me that I would
probably feel sad and guilty -- I do not. I am so angry with her for telling me
that my bleeding would not be like menstrual bleeding, "it will be like
abortion bleeding."
It's not a big deal.
I know for some women it's a very difficult choice,
emotionally. I respect that, and them, for their feelings and their choice. For
me it was not difficult.
But to tell someone that this will be a painful, fraught
procedure when it's actually quite quick and simple and manageable -- not easy,
certainly, but not crippling -- it's just fear-mongering. And I'm so pissed
because that's what they told me. Medically, this process is not complicated or
horrific -- it is painful while you pass the pregnancy, but afterward it's just
like a period. To me, it just wasn't a big deal.
*sigh*
One cool thing about the abortion clinic is that you can
pledge to do a "pay-per-picketer" donation. You pledge to donate a
certain amount of money per picketer per month, and the clinic tells you at the
end of each month how many picketers there were and you donate that much. The
clinic averages about 70 picketers per month, so at a dollar per picketer,
that's a pretty substantial monthly donation. They post a sign outside the
clinic showing how much money they've raised because of the picketers, hoping
that the picketers will get the picture and bugger off. ![LOL]()
I'm signed up to
contribute $0.50 per picketer until I can afford to do more.
* * *
In retrospect, I was so lucky that the clinic was five
minutes away from my house. Seriously, so lucky -- I mean, that clinic
"serves" everyone in Northeast Ohio, pretty much (along with one
other clinic on the far west side of Cleveland). And I was
lucky that I have a car, and am in school and could take two days off to go in
for TWO ridiculous, pointless doctor's appointments, and I am lucky that I had
the money for it, and the support and love of my partner and my family and my
friends . . .
Part of the reason, for me, this was not a very painful
procedure is because of that amazing support network, I think.
As to the condescending stuff -- I'm furious. I really am. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that the medical
procedure is not a big deal and the attitude of "oh, honey, I know this is
hard for you," is just annoying as hell. I'm not a lost little lamb, I'm
an adult and I'm trying to get medical treatment. Honestly, at least the
picketers acted predictably -- it's the supposedly "pro-choice"
abortion clinic workers who gave me the most grief throughout all this.
I called my younger brother and told him everything about
this last night. I think he felt relieved and a little comforted, hearing from
a reliable source that there's no big scary abortion monster -- despite all the
squawking to the contrary.
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A dazzling yellow gown by Dark Garden. If I can budget it, I definitely want Dark Garden to make my wedding dress, with corset!
Dita Von Teese's wedding gown. Le sigh. I know that I don't want to wear white and I do want something dramatic. This fits the bill.
Definitely need lanterns. Lots and Lots of lanterns.
Green dresses for the bridesmaids! I wish I could do a backyard wedding but it's probably impossible.
Wonderful sparklers, a cool Vespa and blue hydrangeas!
The bouquet! The pom poms! The flowers in tins!
Paper lanterns! Pom poms on the chairs! Lanterns in glass jars!