Last Memorial Day weekend the morning sickness of my first pregnancy was kicking my ass and hard. But I had no idea at the time it was morning sickness or that I was pregnant. I wasn’t throwing up, I was just feeling… weird. Like not dizzy but not really well enough to sit up for a long period of time. I’m not really sure how to describe it.
It wasn’t until a week of it progressing, and quickly that I decided to take a pregnancy test. I was pretty sure there wasn’t any way I could BE pregnant but I just felt weird.
Normally, when you get pregnant by someone you’ve been dating for over a year and live with you’d probably
assume hope you wouldn’t get the reaction I did.
So I went to take the pregnancy test. I was the first to see it since I was the one who went to check on it, it was boldy positive. And just a huge rush of emotions drowned me. I never wanted kids but I suddenly felt so very protective over it and I actually started crying. No joke, I was crying. I wasn’t sad. That was the surprising part and I wanted to tell my mom so badly. I was actually excited. Scared as fuck, but excited.
He went in after me to check the test.
He didn’t say anything.
He walked out, grabbed his phone and the first thing he said was “we need to find an abortion clinic.”
I don’t need to describe the emotions that came after that statement left his mouth.
He didn’t ask me how I felt. He didn’t ask me how I felt about it. He didn’t even acknowledge my reaction. He blankly walked out of the bathroom and grabbed his phone. That night while I was laying in bed he spammed me with links via text message of abortion clinics he found in our area.
The next 3 weeks, were hell.
Completely and utter fuckin hell.
I didn’t have morning sickness, I had all fuckin damn day sickness. I had SO many cravings but everything I ate, hurt. And I threw it all up. And every single time I threw up, all he could say was “what a waste of money”. I can’t begin to describe to you the emotional pain I felt. I can faintly remember the physical pain and the morning sickness and the inability to sit up or even verbally speak for more than 20 minutes without needing to throw up but the emotional pain? I can relive that as if it were yesterday. That’s a pain I won’t ever forget. That’s a forgiveness I will never fuckin grant him. I tried everything I could to ease the sickness. I tried Googling things, I tried different foods, I tried drinking more water, I tried eating crackers every 2 hours. NOTHING. N O T H I N G worked. Every single thing I ate and drink made me sick. I couldn’t even LOOK at food without feeling sick. I couldn’t THINK of coffee or chocolate without wanting to throw up. It was BAD. And there he was with his opinions that made no sense, with his demands I still cleaned the house even though he didn’t do shit but watch YouTube videos and play FFXIV. Of his “stop using your sickness as an excuse, stop being useless, my Aunt was just find during her pregnancy so why aren’t you?”
I’m still convinced he knows NOTHING about Biology, then again he skipped High School so how could he know. He clearly didn’t understand that every PERSON and every PREGNANCY is DIFFERENT and when I pointed this out he accused me of making shit up.
He would wait until late afternoon to get me food I would order and pay for. He wouldn’t make me food, I had to get up and make it myself. I had to get up and clean my mess. I had to get up and clean the cat litter. I had to get up and make sure the cats were fed.
And try not to throw up.
In order to set an appointment for an abortion — which he would bitch and fight with me about every single damn fuckin day using his ability to get louder and much angrier than me as a way for me to back down; you had to set an appointment to make sure you were pregnant first. An appointment he hounded me to set; and an appointment that no only did he make me late for because of his inability to calculate time but he took the long way which included a fuck shit ton of stop lights and RAILROAD TRACKS. I didn’t want him there. So they made him wait in the waiting room. They made me take the test and they asked me a few questions. When I mentioned abortion they asked me if anyone was forcing me to. I hesitated and said no.
The next appointment was set; though I don’t remember if it was for a week or two weeks after.
I spent the 3 weeks of pregnancy I was aware of tracking the growth. Singing to it. Talking to it. It liked milkshakes. It liked Coke. It hated every fuckin thing else. And constantly saying sorry to it. Though I suppose the sorry’s didn’t matter that much in the end.
Two days before my appointment I was sobbing saying I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t kill it. I didn’t want to. That I felt awful. And all he could say was “you can’t back out now, just fuckin get it done.” before turning back to his game and his friends on Discord. I literally can not describe the disgust and the pure hatred I have for him after all of this.
The day of the appointment I had the worst anxiety; I spent all the time in the waiting room crying about wanting to go home. That I didn’t want to be there. And all he did was yell at me and glare at me to stop being childish. I was called in to take an ultrasound (which I swear I had taken a picture of, but I can’t find it. I asked to keep it and it’s filed away somewhere). I saw it. And how incredibly tiny it was. God, could something that fuckin small cause me to be so damn sick. And again, I cried. I cried cause holy fuck there’s a baby in there and I cried because it was the first and the fuckin last time I’d ever fuckin see it. And I’m crying right now fuckin writing this shit, a year later.
That’s how the majority of that appointment went. They’d send me out to the waiting room a few more times and every time I begged to go home. They took me back into the back to meet with a doctor (who was surprisingly Filipino and very incredibly kind) who held a pill out to me and told me once I took the pill the growth of the baby stops. Whatever feeds it, stops. The baby would eventually stop breathing and die. In 24 hours I was instructed to take another pill, this pill would cause contractions and it would cause a false labor to get the baby out. Oh and during this entire appointment, they repeatedly asked me if I was sure and if anyone was pressuring me to do this, reworded in various different ways.
If I wasn’t so afraid of the outcome of saying yes when I got home because my ex boyfriend was shit at controlling his anger, maybe I would had said yes. People think that they can save you from a situation but I don’t think they put into account what happens when you get home.
And through out every beg to go home, I was told to shut up. To get it done. To quit being dramatic. To quit being childish. I didn’t feel like talking the rest of the day. I didn’t feel like doing anything but locking myself in my room with Sophie and crying. Which is what I did. And even though I got done what he wanted I was still told I was being childish for being sad. I was getting ready to go to bed and that night he decided to get on Xbox with his friends until 2AM being loud as fuck and when I went out there to tell him to shut the fuck up because *I* am having an abortion I DIDN’T WANT he had the nerve to fire back “you shut the fuck up and stop being childish you never wanted kids anyway so I don’t want to hear it, just fuckin go to bed and shut up.” did I mention he never even paid rent? Like bro, why are you here. Why are YOU alive. Your mama should swallowed you.
The next day was no better. I felt like a part of me died. I felt so empty. And so fuckin alone. I look back at my private blog from back then and I wish I had written more but they’re full of letters saying I’m sorry. Saying I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.
It was Father’s Day and I was fuckin terrified of the pain that everyone talked about. I took the pain meds when they told me to. I took the first pill. Then I took the second. And I waited. I waited for cramps. I wanted for contractions. I waited for something. But I felt totally fine. I locked myself in my room with Sophie. I had juice and snacks. I had my phone. I had 2 friends and my ex husband checking with me through out the day if I was okay. My ex boyfriend? He left to go to his grandparents house. Did I mention he also refused to tell his family because he didn’t want to deal with them bugging him to keep it? So he told them I had a “stomach virus” that I got from a Disney trip we went on. How you extend that to a 3 week thing or why they believed him is fuckin beyond me, but they easily believed every other lie he told them. He also never looked into WHAT exactly happens when you get an abortion so you know, fuck my health.
Through out the day the clots I was warned about happened. But still, no cramps and no contractions though at that point I should had been feeling some kind of pain. The clots themselves were really fuckin uncomfortable and scary. The nurse did mention that sometimes you’ll get hit with extreme pain and possible fever before actually releasing the thing (I don’t what to call it, I’m sorry, I can’t think straight right now). But for majority of the day, I was fine.
Then I wasn’t.
I suddenly got the chills and a massive migraine. I felt like my brain was bleeding. That paired with the insane urge to throw up all my fuckin organs. I can’t describe it but holy shit it was a lot of pain rolled into one. I wasn’t sure if I should attempt to throw up or not. I decided to sit on the toilet and it dropped. I don’t know how I was able to tell but as soon as it did all the pain and chills and fever just disappeared. It was the fuckin strangest thing I have EVER experienced.
And I was pissed. I was sad. I was heart fuckin broken.
I didn’t want anyone speaking to me.
I didn’t want anyone touching me.
I wanted to kill every fuckin body.
So I locked myself in my room. For the rest of the week. Cause fuck everything.
The rest of the week was hell. The pain and contractions I managed to escape on that day came and haunted me the rest of the week. And it sucked. The pain killers weren’t working. Nothing was working. I spent the week curled up into a ball torn between wanting to sob wanting to murder him.
I could never make sense of why someone would force someone else to make a choice like this without even feeling a little bit guilty. Without having some sort of compassion or understanding. Without having the decency to be supportive. But I remember attempting to break up with him PLENTY of times before this and him not taking me seriously. I remember attempting to kick him out PLENTY of times before this where he would use his anger to shut me up. And after this happened; I had zero respect for him, he was the ugliest person I had ever seen, and I wanted nothing to do with him. I didn’t want him around, I didn’t want him talking to me. I wanted to get as far away from him as I possibly could.
Because even after this happened, he still went around talking bad about ME telling people I was lazy and I was too drugged up to function (when I wasn’t even taking drugs and the only “drugs” I took when I met him a year prior were anti anxiety meds which he made me quit COLD FUCKIN TURKEY and resulted in me having withdrawals for 3 months) and he “supported” me when in reality he didn’t pay rent, he didn’t pay bills, he didn’t pay for groceries, he didn’t pay for the phone bill because it was turned off every fuckin month. In fact, the weekend of my abortion my phone was COMPLETELY OFF. I had to contact my mom on FB messenger with wifi in order to get a hold of her. Which if something awful did happen, there was no way I would had been able to call for help and no one TO call since I was in a town where I knew NO FUCKIN ONE besides his family who DIDN’T KNOW.
When I think back to the shit that happened in that year and a half I remember being pissed off a lot. I remember being belittled. And bullied. I NEVER delete things or get rid of things from past relationships but I’ve deleted a good amount of pictures and gotten rid of not just stuff he got me but stuff I’ve bought while we were together. Anything from that year and a half I want nothing to do with, at all.
But I never really talked about this, I never really told this story because I Was always afraid of what people might think. Because when it comes to abortions I completely understand the two sides to it. I wish I had been stronger. I wish I had faught back harder. But I could barely even sit up. And I had no one to run to if shit went crazy bad.
My situation sucked. And it’s a burden and a really bad and painful memory that’s burned into my soul for the rest of my lifetime. But sometimes life hands you the worst lessons to make you see what needs to be done to show you what people are truly like. And maybe some day I’ll be able to think back on this without turning into a sobbing mess. I know my life would be a lot different if the outcome had been different and maybe a lot more painful and abusive.
But to the people who were there, every single day. To listen to me cry and complain and cry some more, I love ya’ll forever. And to the little Mulberry who I never got to properly meet, I hope in your next life you have parents who are excited as all fuckin hell to meet you and love you and I’m so sorry it wasn’t me. I’m so fuckin sorry.