The hardest day to get through..

It was a hard thing to do, just driving there, having to stop every 10 minutes to open the door and lean my head out from nausea. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but I had let him make the final decision. He held my hand, and I tried to ignore it. I was doing that to everything I felt. This wasn’t even the first trip there. Two weeks ago I hadn’t made it past the bulletproof glass at the front door of the building. This time I was just going to let go, so I did. Once we made it through the doors I couldn’t believe everyone was there for the same reason and I couldn’t understand why they didn’t have tears in their eyes too. At the front reception they asked if I was “going with the medical or surgical procedure”. I couldn’t find any words because I still didn’t want to say what I was doing, so he did it for me. We went into the consulting room and again he answered all the questions. Surgical? Yes. Twilight anesthesia? Yes. Cash, check, or credit card? Credit. They gave me the clipboard with more questions to fill out and told me to go into the room in the back with everyone else. I went into the first room I saw, because it was empty. I wrote the answers to the questions on the lines. Was I under 12 weeks pregnant? Check. Is this my first pregnancy? Check. Was I being forced to go through with the procedure? No. I don’t really know whose choice it was. And then I got stuck. Would I need counseling after the procedure? A friend once told me that if you say yes they won’t let you go through with it. Be honest? Was that my way out? I left it blank. I turned it in after providing my barely legible signature. I didn’t even want to admit who I was. And then I went back to sit in the empty room where I knew I was not supposed to be.
Someone came to find me to let me know I had left a question blank. DIDN’T SHE KNOW WHY I LEFT IT BLANK? I took it and scribbled in the line. Happy, she pointed me in the direction of the right room and walked away without even checking to see what I wrote. Unbelievable.
I got to the right room and walked in to a group of around 20 women of all races and ages seated in chairs against the walls. They were all in hospital type gowns with their shoes on, and I felt out of place. Someone handed me 2 gowns mistakenly, but instead of giving one back I just went to the changing area and put one on backwards under the other for a little more dignity. I felt ridiculous with just the gowns and my sneakers on, but I went to find a chair to sit in among the others. A nurse came to get me to draw my blood and I cried, but she thought it was just because I didn’t like getting my blood drawn. When she asked, I didn’t answer.
Back to the room I went. Another nurse came in and put a video on to explain to us what was going to happen. I had to go to the bathroom because I was nauseous again. I came back to conversations among the women with each explaining why they were doing it. One just couldn’t handle another child. How did she end up with so many children? She didn’t like the hassles of birth control. Others were scared to be mothers. Another admitted that her husband was going to leave her if she didn’t. I just kept silent because I wasn’t sure what to say. I think everyone was afraid to talk to me because I was still visibly crying to myself. A nurse kept poking her head in and I was sure she was watching me. I focused on the video. It explained the procedure. It made me nauseous. It said that women feel relief and a renewed sense of control once the procedure was done. That was what I wished for but I didn’t take a moment to believe it. The nurse that kept poking her head in brought me a white pill. I took it and kept waiting for everyone else to get theirs but they never did. It was supposed to calm me down, but I didn’t notice anything. I think they just wanted my tears to stop. Sorry, nothing was going to stop that. “Just tell everyone to look away”, I felt like saying.
I don’t know how much time passed, but the same nurse came to get me. It was time and my knees locked. Why me first? I was the last one there…. My tears still hadn’t stopped, so I guessed they wanted to get me over with. She took my arm and led me away with everyone staring at my back.
She took me to a small room painted stark white and handed me a paper sheet which I knew what to do with. It took her a minute to leave, and before she did she gave me a look that I didn’t quite know how to interpret. It wasn’t sympathetic. So I took off my shoes and sat on the table with the sheet covering my lap. After a few minutes I opened my eyes and the sheet was starting to soak through. It came from the tears that still hadn’t stopped, and that no one seemed to want to acknowledge. Opening my eyes had been a mistake because I saw the vacuum. It was bigger than I imagined and very dirty. It was partially covered but you could tell all that it had done since it had been there. I shuddered and closed my eyes and waited for someone to come in, which didn’t take long. A different nurse came in and touched my shoulder. For a minute I thought she was going to tell me that it was ok, I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to. Instead she informed me that if I didn’t stop crying, the Dr. wouldn’t perform the procedure. Then she tied the tourniquet around my arm and pushed the twilight into my vein with a needle. She told me I should feel better in a minute and to just lie down and relax. She said I could even go to sleep. I wished I could. The doctor came in and started preparing. He looked dirty and indecent. He took my paper sheet away and I tried to grab for it. I felt too exposed. There were no words spoken, he was just there to do what I had signed up for. He left the room for a moment and I sat up and let the tears come harder. I tried to get down but I lost the floor. The nurse asked me what was wrong. I couldn’t talk, my thoughts where too scrambled. Finally I managed to blurt out “his” cell phone number. Where did it even come from? I had only dialed it once. It was in my phone directory, I didn’t know it by heart! After another blur the phone was at my ear and someone was holding it for me. And there was “his” voice.
The next minute I was standing in the hallway in my double gown and she was opening the back door for him. Men weren’t allowed back there. I said I couldn’t do it. She told him she didn’t know how I was awake, I should be “in twilight”. Around me I heard the sounds of the procedure being done to others. They had forgotten about me and moved on. He was gone and they took me to recovery and I was the first one in there. I had tissues and lay down but still had no comfort. A girl came in and they put her in the seat next to mine. She had done it. She was crying. I told her I didn’t do it and she cried harder. I asked for a pen and wrote my name and number down on a tissue and put it in her hand. I don’t know why I did. I wanted so desperately to help her and I didn’t know how else. Even if she never called me she knew I cared enough to offer. The next girl came in and was placed across the room. She asked for her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She called whoever was on the opposite end of the line and told them that she hated them. I can only wonder what her story was. Was she the one with the husband who was going to leave her? I couldn’t remember. So I lay down again and finally the twilight came.
The next thing that I knew I was in the bathroom and the lady that was at reception when we got there was helping me get dressed. She asked me if I needed any pads and I told her I hadn’t done it. She whispered and told me I had made the right decision. I wanted to ask her why she worked in that place, but my tongue was twisted.
And then I woke up in the truck. My mind still wasn’t clear. I reached but he wouldn’t look at me so I went back to sleep. We got to the house and he went inside. I couldn’t move and he hadn’t thought to help me. And then I was on the couch inside and he was gone.
Later I woke up on the same couch to a deli sub being dropped on my chest. It was dark outside. He was home and I was awake again and I had no words still. The sub made my stomach churn but I ate a few bites and wrapped it back up.
The rest is blank, and I wish I didn’t remember everything that I have just now typed. I wish it had never happened. I don’t remember when we spoke those first strained words after everything. I certainly don’t remember what it is that was said. I don’t remember when everything was ok again. But eventually it was, and my belly grew.
The last couple of nights my little boy, who is quickly becoming not so little, has been waking up in the middle of the night crying. This is something he has not done in a year and a half, but it is something that hasn’t bothered me. I have gone into his bedroom each time I’ve heard his whimpering, and stroked his hair over the rails of his crib. His crying has subsided and a peaceful look has replaced the confusion in his eyes each time. I can’t imagine life without him. I have typed out my story to remember the confusion I felt at the thought of him, and how many times I cried out of frustration. I didn’t know him yet. I didn’t know what amazing things he would bring into my life or how much things would change for the better. I just knew what was happening to me. I need to remember what I went through to ultimately keep him and never ever take it for granted.