Coming to Terms

  Micaela
California,  United States
 
  I was 23 and already had a one and a half year old that, at his birth, I did not bond well with. I was also in a mentally, emotionally, and financially abusive relationship with my son’s father. We both worked, but I paid the bills. He was either on a computer game or out with his friends. He did not try and make us a family. I felt alone. I tried making him leave numerous times, but he always said what I wanted to hear for him to stay. I would give in and, not long after, things would return to chaos. There were rumors of him cheating. In my immature mind I thought if I cheated he would go away. I met someone while working my second job at a fast good place. He was a couch surfer. I thought I could help him out of his bad situation. Nope. Bad idea. He didn't want to help himself.

Soon, I found myself pregnant. I wasn't sure who the father was. I was ashamed.

Minutes after I took the pregnancy test I called Planned Parenthood and made the appointment for an abortion. I called my son’s father and told him that I was pregnant, and I was going to have it taken care of. I called my mom she tried to talk me out of it, but I didn't want to listen. I even had someone offer to adopt my child. I said no. I mean, what would I be? Aunt Micaela? I was selfish enough to think we would still keep in contact. Another friend gave me money for the procedure. She also was going to take me. The day of I drove to her house and, as we were leaving, my son’s father pulled up and called out the window, “If you do this we are done!" So the small part of me that thought my son deserved his parents together got into his car. I don't remember talking on the way home. At home he sat and played a video game. I asked if he would help me take care of both kids. I reminded him he wasn't helping currently. He said nothing. I said this baby may not be yours. Will you help with both kids? Nothing. He just played the game. I told him that I was going next week for the abortion. He said fine. He was silent the few days before and when he chose to speak up he was silent after.  No support, and I think that gave me more fuel for my decision. I know I was angry.

The next week another friend took me.

I felt okay going in. I filled out paperwork. I looked around at sad, depressed faces. Some men were there with who I figured were their significant others. They called me back. The ultrasound showed I was 11 weeks 6 days. I was brought into another room and asked if I knew all my options. The lady didn't look up from the file much. I said yes. “And you still want to terminate the pregnancy?”  Yes. I went into another waiting room.  It took a little longer to get into the procedure room, because I had put on my paperwork that I had mitral valve prolapse and, as a child, I had had open heard surgeries. They wanted to ask the doctor if he would still do the procedure. I thought about what would happen if he would say no. All I thought about was more struggling and that maybe I wouldn't bond with this child, either. But he agreed to do it. I was asked if I wanted a pill to make me loopy. Sure. It didn't really kick in until the end.  I lay on the table and stared. The nurse was in there, too, and she held my hand the whole time. After, I went to the recovery room and was fine. I wondered why, if they wanted this to be done, were most of the other women crying. As I was leaving the doctor saw me and asked how I was. I said, “Great, thank you.”  I went back to a friend’s house. Later, I walked to my son’s daycare to pick him up. I didn’t think about it until years later.

 I eventually left the abusive relationship, and he has chosen to not be in his son’s life.

One day I looked into the back seat and saw my son. I think he was in a booster seat by this time. I thought to myself that there was supposed to be another car seat back there. And I thought about how old the child would have been by that time.

Fast forward in time, I was watching a Nova documentary on a baby's development. Oh....the baby had been bigger than I thought at 11 weeks and 6 days. Then I used my phone calendar and went back to 2007.  I know I had my abortion the Monday after Columbus Day. I counted back. I would have conceived in late July, early August. I stopped seeing the other guy late June early July. So the possibility was great that it had been my son’s father’s child. I wondered if I had taken the time to think back then and figure it out would I still have done it. I can't say for sure, but I don't think so. It was shame and self-preservation.

Every April when I celebrate my son’s birthday I think about my other child. What would he or she be like?

I started going back to church, and I asked if there was someone I could take to about my abortion. A very nice lady met with me. She told me God forgave me if I asked. I also needed to forgive myself. I think I have.

Three or four years ago I went and stood with 40 Days For Life outside the Planned Parenthood where I had my abortion. It was awkward, so I only did it once.

I still went to Planned Parenthood for birth control, but at some point I just couldn't bring myself to go back. I kept thinking, “This was the room where I killed my baby.”  So I went to my regular doctor for my female exams from then on.

Even though I'm not Catholic I listen to Immaculate Heart Radio, as well as the local Christian radio station. I've heard many pro life stories and have received so much information. I've also forced myself to look at pictures of aborted babies. It really made me think. Lastly, I became pregnant again. My daughter’s father and I got married. I used an app and tracked her growth. It was so amazing to see how quickly a human develops—and a little sad at the same time. My child had not been a tiny bean. It had arms legs and a head. It had a heartbeat. It could feel pain. I had to come to terms with that.

My son and I are close now, and I adore my daughter. I would never let anyone hurt them, and I'm sorry I murdered my second baby. That's why I am silent no more!
   
   
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