It wasn’t until years later that Karen realized how having an abortion hurt those around her-especially her family…
I came from a very abusive household, with alcoholic parents. I was sexually abused by my brothers, father, and molested by an uncle. My father was also very physically abusive, and mentally abusive.
When I was thirteen, I got what I refer to as my first real boyfriend. I had two or three quick boyfriends before him. They all seemed to want the same thing. I developed very early and at eleven looked sixteen. I always stopped their advances and they always left me.
When I met Gerard, I didn’t want him to leave me. I was looking for someone to love me and rescue me. When he made his first sexual attempt, I was very stiff and extremely scared, but was afraid if I didn’t let him, he too, would leave. I came to believe sex equaled love.
Needless to say I got pregnant. I was very afraid to tell anyone other than Gerard. I had no idea what I was going to do. I couldn’t tell my parents. (Mind you, I went to church every Saturday and was attending catholic school at the time)I just figured if I didn’t say anything, no one would know and I’d figure the rest out later.
One day I was standing in the kitchen dressed in my uniform for school when my mother asked me if I was pregnant. I just started crying. She said she knew it. I told her I was sorry; I just didn’t know how to tell her. She then informed… NO, Told me, I was having an abortion. I just stood there. I didn’t know what to say. She told me my father would kill me and the baby if he found out I was pregnant. I believed he would.
My mother just went about making all the decisions, and I sat quietly by and let her. I knew in my head, and my heart that I wanted this baby. I had no courage to say so. I knew I could do a better job than my parents had done. I wanted someone to love me that I could love back. I really did want my baby.
My mother brought me to the clinic where they discovered I was about three months pregnant. At three months, you needed both parents consent. If you couldn’t get that then you had to go before a judge to sign some piece of paper saying it was okay to perform the “procedure” with only one parents’ permission. I remember sitting there and her asking me why I couldn’t tell my father. I told her he would beat me. He would beat me so bad that neither I nor the baby would survive. I also remember thinking in my head please say no. Well, she didn’t say no, she signed the paper and we went back to the clinic.
They were then able to make the appointment for the “procedure”. I’m not sure how many days it was till I went back. I know it wasn’t many. I remember the doctor asking me why I waited so long to say anything. I told him I was scared. He then informed me if I waited any longer it would have been too late (all said with irritation in his voice.) I remember that very well, it was as if he assumed I wanted the “procedure” and almost “blew it.” I then got changed into my scrubs and was told to lie on the table which was a metal, flat, uncomfortable, cold, and uncaring table. Everything was done without any concerns about me or my baby. I was informed that it wasn’t going to hurt. I was going to feel some pulling and that it would be uncomfortable, but not painful. They told me that the machine was loud, but not to get scared. I remember looking up at the nurse at my side, she asked if I was okay and I just nodded. I was still hoping that someone would stop this from happening.
Then he turned on the machine. I clenched my hands together, turned my head to stare at the wall and just laid there. It felt as if my insides were being sucked out. It felt like my stomach was being sucked in. I so wanted to cry, but didn’t. I don’t know why, I just didn’t. It, itself wasn’t painful. It was very uncomfortable. At the time I didn’t know why I wanted to cry. I now know why. I was killing my baby.
They then put me in the recovery room with my mom. I had to stay there till the bleeding slowed enough. A nurse kept coming in to check on me. She kept asking how I was feeling. She seemed nice enough at the time. Then during one of her quick visits with me she informed me abortion isn’t birth control and I can’t just go out and keep having sex. As if she knew me. She was making an assumption that I did this all the time (have sex); if she only knew. I remember looking at my mom and thinking why aren’t you yelling at her and telling her I don’t sleep around.
Well I was finally able to leave. I got dressed and my mother and I headed for the train station. That is how we got to and from my appointment. We didn’t speak about anything while we heading back home. Then my mother said it was getting late and she was scared we wouldn’t beat my father home. My day started at nine A.M. and my father got home about five-thirty. I remember feeling scared at the thought of my father getting home before us.
It was rush hour on the trains. The train was full, hot and smelly. I started to feel dizzy and told my mom I felt sick. She said I looked very white and we would get off at the next stop. She yelled at a man sitting close by and told him to get up so I could sit down. He did. That was the only time all day I saw concern in my mother’s eyes. Needless to say I threw up. We got off at the next stop and waited till I felt better.
Then proceeded home again.
We were walking down from the train station when we both saw my dad standing on the steps looking over the railing at us. I was never more terrified in my life. I started crying out of fear. My mother told me to stop. She said she was just going to tell him I was at the doctors and it ran longer that she thought it would.
When we were in hearing distance of the house my father asked where the hell we were?! You could see the anger on his face. My mother told him she took me to the doctors. He asked why, and she said because my breast was hurting. She told him that the doctor said it was growing pains. He said “growing pains you got to be kidding how much more could she grow?”
That day came to an end and time just started going by.
The next time my abortion came up was when I was fifteen. My older sister had found out about it and started crying. She asked me if mom made me get the abortion. I told her no. I told her it was my decision; I didn’t want her blaming my mom. She said if she found out it was my mom she was going to kill her (not literally). I told her I thought it was best because of dad. I said you know him, he would of beat the crap out of me and the baby would have died; quite possibly me too. She said I should have come to her and told her, she would have figured something out. Then we both sat there just crying. She looked at me and said, “That was my niece or nephew.” I told her I was sorry.
I then realized how my abortion was going to affect others. That is something I think no one ever even considers. My sister was now hurting, because she too, lost a baby to love.
Share on Facebook
