April 29, 2003
Abortion nearly killed me.
My name is Emily, and I am 22 years old.
Last year I became pregnant by my fiancé. I was scared, but excited. He was just scared.
He told me he thought abortion would be the best option right now, we weren't even married yet, timing was wrong, we had our whole lives ahead of us to have children.
I didn't want to, but I could see his point. Neither of us really knew much about abortion, and our doctor didn't tell us much, either.
We made the appointment. We went on the day. My legs were weak, and I felt like throwing up. My fiancé looked pale, and didn't say a word the entire drive there. I think we both knew then that it was a bad idea.
We filled out forms, were ushered into a waiting room full of other scared, sad looking people. It was very hushed in there, quiet and lulled.
We waited in that room for an hour and a half. Finally we were taken into the “counselling room” where we were just advised of the potential for danger, but made to think it was very rare and nearly impossible.
There was really no counselling at all, It was just their way of covering legal issues.
I signed the waiver. They brought me into another room for an ultrasound.
My head was spinning, my body was all tense, and I remember thinking, “there's no way they'll let me see that picture, there's just no way.” But, they did, they left it right there on my file, open. How could I not look?
I jumped when the nurse touched me. She looked annoyed and advised me to take a sedative to calm down. She gave me Ativan, and literally stood over me while I took it.
I was very scared, my fiancé was told to wait in the waiting room. No one told me Ativan harms your baby. No one said to me, “you cannot turn back after this.” They just pumped me full of drugs and pushed me into the next room.
I had managed not to cry, yet. In the next room they told me to undress and put on the hospital gown. They gave me a blanket to stay warm.
I wanted to run, but the door locks behind you — for security, they say.
They then brought me into another room — the room. I looked at the table, I couldn't move. The nurse asked me to get up on the table, I did. She asked me to lay down, I did. She put my legs in the stirrups and I began to cry.
She called in another nurse. The other nurse was to distract me while I was given the sulphur drugs. I sat up, I was crying so hard I couldn't breathe, the nurse tried to console me but I began to shake. She asked me if I wanted to go home. She was the first person to ask me, and I thought, “this is my chance to leave, she is my gaurdian angel.” Then she said, “we can give you some Ativan to take home, you can take them for a few days and then come back, you will be more relaxed.”
I felt a dread overcome me, and I realized she didn't want to help me at all, she wanted to pacify me, and make her job easier.
I was terrified at this point. The drugs were in so fast, and it all happened so fast, I never once stopped crying.
I couldn't cope afterwards, I had a hemorrhage, fever, I was in and out of the emergency room for days. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. I cried until I would throw up or pass out from fatigue.
When I did sleep, I had terrible nightmares. I would wake up screaming and shaking. I started to see the baby in my house, haunting me. I was preoccupied with death. I wanted to die, to end the hurt.
My friends began to desert me. My fiancé developed an ulcer, started getting panic attacks, missing work to be with me because he was so scared I would kill myself. He blamed himself for it all. I had to be medicated and eventually, hospitalized for severe depression.
My parents were a wreck, it took me months to pull out of it. Medication, counselling, group sessions, journals, family support and even to this day, I'm not my old self. I never will be.
If I could have seen into the future, I would have never done it. It ruined my entire life, and nearly killed me. I had no idea.
