My Mistake

  Kristin
Florida,  United States
 
  I was 23 when I got pregnant. The relationship with the father of my child was toxic, and I didn't want to be connected to him forever.

I called the abortion clinic to find out what my options were. They simply stated that I could take a series of pills at home, or I could come in and have the procedure done. I told them that I didn't want to be aware of what was happening, so they scheduled me for my procedure less than a week later.

I went in. They took my form of payment, and I began the shuffle from room to room. First, they pricked my finger, and then I was shuffled to the ultrasound room where I met the doctor who would do my procedure. He asked me how far along I thought I was; I told him I thought I was seven weeks.  He said, “No, you're nine weeks.” He told me he'd see me in a few minutes. Then I was taken to a room to undress and put on a gown. I remember being on the exam table and playing with my feet stirrups.  A doctor was administering an IV, and I was wishing I had the guts to run out of the office.

When I woke up, I had little to no pain, which seemed unwarranted. I didn't even take the pain pills they prescribed for me after the procedure. I spent two years of guilt, self-hatred, resentment, and anger before I decided to own up to my mistake. This generation has taught us that it is okay to abort our children. Not only that, but we are told that we shouldn't feel guilty or broken because of it. Rachel's Vineyard brought me healing, and that is why I am silent no more!

   
   
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