June 04, 2002
My name is Deana. Im an 18 year old that lives in Wellington, New Zealand.
Your body has its own way of telling you you're pregnant. But for some reason I thought to myself "If I don't think about it maybe it won't happen. Maybe it will all just go away."
That's the problem. It doesn't. I guess it NEVER will.
I'm sharing my story because I wish someone had shared theirs with me.
If I had been told about the sleepless nights, the haunting guilt and the silent tears, I would definately have taken more time on making the decision.
My decision.
NO one tells you that side of the story. They seem to leave it out.
I found out I was 6 weeks pregnant at 11am on Friday, 10 May, 2002. I expected the worst and I got it. It's the only test I have ever failed twice.
I lied to my friends about it. In the 12 years we've been best friends, I had never lied to her. I told them all that I didn't have enough acid in my stomach, hence the reason I couldn't hold any food down. When all the while it was morning sickness.
Technically this year was my first mother's day. I built a wall around me. I didn't come out and I didn't let anyone in. I just hid behind my smile. I didnt let myself get emotionally involved it was not worth it.
Monday, 20 May 2002, at 12.30pm, We walked into "Level J" Everyone at Wellington Women's hospital knows what "Level J" is.
The room was full. Almost every woman in the room was crying. I refused to. At the time I was 100% certain that this was what I wanted.
1.15pm, I was taken to theatre. I had NEVER been more scared in my life. I thought to myself "its over now." It only took one look into my partner's eyes, that is when it all began for me. Emotionally. I broke down. I couldn't control the tears.
"What had I done?"
I kept thinking about the girls in the other room, waiting.
I stood up and almost fainted. I didn't care. I wanted to get out of there. I had to leave. I needed to feel safe. I wanted to be reassured. I needed cuddles. I needed to feel loved. I didn't and still don't understand. I was perfectly fine with everything before the termination.
Every woman, every reason and every situation is different.
The physical pain was nothing I could not handle. Physical pain, with time, it disappears. I would rather suffer that one hundred times over, than be left with the emotional scars:
It's the constant reminder of babies and pregnant teens.
It's the pain I feel living in secrecy.
It's the repetitive flash backs that run through my mind.
It's hiding silent tears behind my smile.
It's knowing that if only I had taken my time and thought about the consequences, I would never have had to go through this.
It's the tears I cried reading other women's stories. Your stories.
But most of all, Its knowing that this is going to take a lifetime to forget. My lifetime.
The car ride home, I made a promise to myself that I would just try to forget. Forget EVERYTHING. But all I do is REMEMBER. I REMEMBER everything. Nurses names, times, dates, pills, needles, car park, theatre, my clothes, my partners clothes, what I had to eat that day… EVERYTHING.
I am not trying to persuade anyone not to have a termination. I am not saying that abortions are wrong, or right. I just want to show you the side of the coin that was hidden from me.
Thankyou for reading my story. If you are about to make the decision heed this: "Listen to others advice and life stories but, act on YOUR own decision."
* Not her real name
