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newlifewithin-blog · 8 years ago

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The entire process killed my soul. It killed every human part of me.

I stared at the pill bottle, cradling my belly and trying to assure my little heartbeat it would be okay. I couldn’t imagine ever having to put myself in this position. The position of murder. And as I sat beside him the thought of what this could have been, the family we could have had hit me like a bullet in the chest. I walked to the table, clutching the pill bottle secretly hoping I had the strength to crush it between my fingers and watch the pills disappear into a pile of substance that could no longer harm. I walked back to the couch where he held a bottle of whiskey and I could see the tears he was holding back.

My heart still aching from the bullet-like pain began to take away my breath as the reality hit me. There’s no going back. This decision is permanent. And then the tears came; uncontrollable and suffocating. I fell into his arms as the bullet in my chest swelled, taking away the air that my lungs needed. I looked up to see tears falling from his face, the fear in his eyes. The potential loss we both felt was undeniable as I built up the temporary courage to lift the lid from the bottle and pour five small yellow tablets into my palm. It was at that moment the severity of this choice hit both of us, and the tears turned into full blown panic.

I had to do it. I reached for the glass of coca-cola I had poured and shoved the pills in my mouth. The restraint I felt at this moment was overpowered by adrenaline. One large sip of the soda, one swallow, and it was done. I slowly set the glass of Coke back down on the coffee table, leaned back into the couch, and suddenly I was hit with three things. Pain. Fear. Remorse.

The remainder of the night was long, too long. Hyperventilation and panic filled my body. The concept being that I was to sit around and wait as it was killed inside of me. It disturbed me to a point of wanting to end my life; i thought I couldn’t live with the pain knowing I killed something that would have had life.

The following days were the most torturous days I had ever experienced. I woke up the following morning and spent my day in front of the toilet, unable to eat anything. My body wouldn’t allow any source of nutrients, let alone water. Maybe that’s what I deserved, perhaps I was meant to wither away to nothing in return for what I had done. I had no strength left, I was unable to leave my bed for 3 days. On the second day my breasts were no longer tender. My lower stomach was no longer firm, but rather squishy. But the most distinguished feeling I had was emptiness.

They don’t tell you about the connection you feel with a fetus that is as small as a raspberry. I was in love, I would have been willing to do anything for that small heartbeat of 137 beats per minute. It gave me a certain sense of purpose. And what they don’t tell you about abortion, is that when that connection is lost; as you sit and wait for the pills to dissolve into your bloodstream and eventually stop the heartbeat, you feel the loss. Physically and mentally you will know. And there's nothing you can do to bring it back. You can feel the death inside your body, and it is the loneliest feeling in the world. You'll feel it. I’m not sure exactly at what moment it stopped, all I know is one moment I was rubbing by belly, trying to soothe my child and tell them it would be okay, and the next I felt nothing. No connection, just emptiness. Losing a connection I had never felt with another soul on earth made me want to die. I was truly, inevitably alone.

Five days past and I was required to insert four octangular shaped pills into my body. At this point I had come to terms with the reality that my baby no longer had a heartbeat, that it was dead inside of my body. I was tired of the panic attacks. I was tired of feeling uncomfortable in my own body, feeling ashamed of myself. It only took half an hour after taking the remaining pills before I was overtaken by a physical pain I had never felt before. And now I began the terrifying wait; for the physical fetus to be pushed out of my body through blood and cramping, to be required to flush the remains down the toilet; as put by my doctor(in a very insensitive way). That day I spent in bed once again, running back and forth from the bathroom puking. The pain was unrelenting, unforgivable. I was paying the price for the choice I had made. It took 5 hours before I walked to the washroom, sat down and felt it come out of my body. I was terrified at that moment of seeing what was there. At this point I did the hardest and harshest thing of my life; I closed the lid. I reached for the handle, and I flushed.

I fell backwards then and to the floor where my tears soaked my face and reality hit once again. It seemed as though this kept getting harder. I was emotionally destroyed after the first night of taking those pills, I didn’t think it was possible to sink lower that I had. But it seemed as though each day became even more of a struggle. How much pain can one person take? I haven’t found out yet.

This experience has pushed me down lower than I’ve ever been, but I’ve also found that I am able to push through more pain that I could have ever imagined. I’m not sure that I will ever be the same woman after causing my own tragedy. I had a medical abortion. For those of you who are against this act; I would never put myself through this pain unless I felt it was absolutely necessary. Understand that not all of us shake this off. Understand that this has changed my life forever, understand that we hate ourselves for taking a life just as much as you, but that we had to make the right choice for this child. Most importantly that the connection we made with our unborn child will be alive forever in our hearts. We carry that burden, we do. And I chose to believe I made the right decision. We pay for the choice we make ... don't make us feel any worse.

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newlifewithin-blog · 8 years ago

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On day one I cried. I soaked our pillows with tears and laid on your side of the bed. I put on my favourite shirt of yours and sprayed your cologne on my skin. I cried in the shower where we had laughed and talked so much. I smoked a cigarette on your couch where we had spent so much time. I savoured the details of where my things sat in your house. And then I packed up some things and left.

The following days were spent alone in my apartment, my body’s ability to eat was no more and I spent my time staring at the walls and getting too stoned to feel anything. The dog was my only company; he watched the tears and the sickness turn my body into a pit of emptiness. I couldn’t face anyone, not even myself. I avoided the mirrors, in knowing my reflection would only cause more pain.

I wasn’t ready to face you again; to face reality. But reality couldn’t have come at a faster pace or in a harsher way. I knew facing you would only make things harder. I had no one; you were all I had. My best friend, my lover, my home. All in one. I wanted to be in your arms, it was all I craved. I begged my body to shut down for a while, to allow rest. But it never came; fighting to escape the sickness for just a little while. My body had been so used to touching you everyday, and being touched in return. My own body heat would no longer suffice at night, my hands longed for the roughness of yours; my lips missing your smile. The presence of another person was no longer existent, my body missed you. It took an unexpected toll physically.

And then I saw you again. I was tense, and almost instantly gave in to the connection my body still had to yours. But my mind, my heart; they wouldn’t allow it. I was jolted into reality as I sat down, giving myself the space I needed between us. I fought every minute. I had missed your smile, the voice filled with love that was only used when speaking to me. I had missed the way your body looked; oh how I longed to see you naked again, to feel your skin on mine. We had made so much love in that house, my body wanted that back.

But reality sucked. My trust in you faded to nothing. I had nothing left; I had given it all to you. I hadn’t had much left to give when we first met, and I gave all of it to be able to love you like I’d never been hurt. The conversations I had read flashed through my mind when I saw you. The most unimaginable pain was now noticeable. I felt deceived; I felt as though everything I knew about you was wrong. I didn’t know you, you were a stranger with a familiar face. A face I had studied for months, knowing what every expression made meant. I knew every smile, every laugh, every tear. I thought I did, anyway.

Love is strange. They tell you someday you’ll meet the one; and he will treat you how you deserve, he will look at you as if you’re the world, he will take interest in everything you say, he will be the perfect man. But what happens when you fall in love with the imperfection of a man? I fell for the tears you shed in front of me, the anger you show, the weakness you refuse to accept in yourself.

What happens when you fall in love with the way he plays guitar, or the way he laughs too hard at his own jokes. How could you go back to him? It seems everyone asks. What makes you think he’ll change for you?

I choose to believe I can be the woman he wants to change for. I choose to believe he loves me as much as he claims to. Because when you love someone with everything you have you tend to give them too many chances. But isn’t that what real love is? Forgiveness, second chances, acceptance. There is something greater than love inside of me, creating the path meant for me. I can’t ignore the feeling I have inside me, screaming to give you another chance; knowing that this is all I have left. I am giving you all I have.. I am putting every piece of faith I have left in you. I truly believe I will die of a broken heart if your word is not true.

I’m taking a chance on love, because I believe in you. Because I believe in us.

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