I had an abusive upbringing; as a young girl, I had been sexually molested by my father, starting when I was around six years old, and beaten and verbally abused by both my mother and father; my mom would yell at me for hours, and my dad would kick my shins repeatedly, leaving large, visible bruises. (I've often wondered why none of my schoolteachers ever spoke to me about that.) My resulting low self-esteem caused me to become sexually promiscuous as a young woman in my early 20s. I didn't know the identity of the man by whom I became pregnant. When I skipped one menstrual period, I worried I might be pregnant, so I made an appointment with my gynecologist, who confirmed I was pregnant. He told me, "We have to take care of this right away. We'll schedule the termination [his words] this week." I had my abortion because, at the time, I didn't think I had either the emotional maturity or the financial stability to raise a child on my own. Also, I've always been kind of passive, a people pleaser, not making waves, letting other people take the reins.
My mother took me to the doctor's office. I remember the nurse joking with the doctor that she had difficulty finding a vein in my arm in order to administer the anesthesia; I thought it was creepy that she, a professional, would joke like that. She told me to clench my fist. After I went under, the doctor performed a suction, or vacuum, abortion. Afterwards, I was physically in pain and emotionally overwhelmed. My mom yelled at me the whole time she drove me back to my apartment, calling me a "whore". When I got home (I lived by myself), I lay down on my bed, conjuring grotesque images in my mind of my baby being siphoned through a hose. I felt shame and sorrow.
A few weeks later, my gynecologist prescribed birth control pills for me; subsequently, I was on the pill for about five-and-a-half years. A couple of months after my abortion, I drifted into street prostitution in a red-light area of my city; this lasted for three years. Angry with the men who took advantage of me, but even angrier with myself for getting into that mess, I went into therapy, discussing my childhood abuse and promiscuity, but I was too ashamed to mention my abortion. I got myself out of prostitution and found employment, but the shame I felt about the abortion has lingered.
The abortion took place in 1981, and 38 years later, at age 60, I still feel remorse and shame; not a day goes by that I don't think of my child, who would have turned 38 this year. I also feel anger towards these brutal people who claim abortion is the solution. I truly believe these creepy Planned Parenthood people are evil. They take advantage of women and underage girls who feel they're in a desperate situation. And this is why I am silent no more.