Ending our pregnancy, part #2

The night before we terminated our pregnancy, I had to drive by myself to see the surgeon at the hospital. The time by myself led me to reflect on what had happened and what was to come. I felt like life was rolling in slow-motion on a one way street I didn’t want to walk down. Green Day’s “Time of Your Life ” played on the radio as I drove. It felt so ironic. I cried quietly.

At the hospital, I took the lift up to the “abortion” unit. There was a teenage girl and two couples. I wondered what journeys that had been on to find themselves in the same room as me at that same time. I wondered if their pregnancies were all unwanted. I felt ashamed to be in that room, and sad. The hard bump in my tummy made me sick to my stomach with guilt.

When my name was called I spoke with the surgeon. I asked him, I had to know, what happened in the procedure? I wanted reassurance that it would be as peaceful for our baby as possible. I felt sick. I cried. I don’t want to write what he said, not to say he said anything horrific, but it is still too painful to think about it now.

I was called into a cubicle. Two nurses appeared. Both looked at the later stages of their careers. One reeked of stale cigarette smoke. Her teeth and face showed the lines of her habit and probably the stress of her job too. They were hands down the two most wonderful people I met during this time. They asked me to take some paracetamol and joked that they’d fill my cup with vodka instead of water. They asked about me. I cried. I said I had a son, and I wanted this baby so badly. That I wasn’t sure how I would do this. They took me aside. They talked with me and hugged me and sat beside me. One of the nurses told me out of her 11 pregnancies she had four children. That I shouldn’t give up and one day it would be OK.

I was escorted into the surgeon’s room. It was bright and sterile. Having the rods inserted was quick, but it was one of the most horrible moments of my life. I sobbed with so many emotions. Hopelessness. Sadness. Guilt. I questioned myself. I begged our baby to forgive me.

 

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