My strong, “dependable” husband just couldn’t handle the prospect of being responsible for another child.
I was absolutely stunned by the suddenness of his departure. I was left five and a half months pregnant, with two young children and no source of income. I didn’t know what to do. Finally, I took the kids and drove over to my parents’ house.
All the while my thoughts are racing… “you’re never going to amount to a hill of beans. What man is ever going to want you with three children, let alone the two you already have? It’s obvious that you’ll just have to have an abortion.”
If I wasn’t upset and depressed enough already, this type of ‘practical’ advice made me feel even worse. I felt totally helpless. I was a failure… “Are you really going to resist when everyone is just trying to help you? They’re the only support you have.” My mind goes again.
I adopted the attitudes of those around me. Upset, depressed, tired, desperate, I took the path of least resistance. I accepted their decision as my own. I simply floated along with “what had to be done.” Besides, I thought, maybe if I get rid of this “problem pregnancy”, my husband will come back to me.
I was so naïve. I trusted him. After all he was the doctor. A respected and educated man. And like everyone else, I had always heard that legal abortion was “safe and easy.” It wasn’t until he had me on the table that I began to question these illusions.
The first thing he did was withdraw 60 cc’s of amniotic fluid. At that point I started to feel afraid for my baby. I could feel her thrashing about, scared by this intrusion. I wanted to scream out “Please stop. Don’t do this to me!” But I couldn’t get it out. Stuck, nowhere to go, I was petrified with fear.
After the fluid was withdrawn, he injected 200 cc’s of saline solution… from then on it was terrible. My baby began thrashing about – it was like a regular boxing match in there. She was in pain. The saline was burning her skin, her eyes, her throat. It was choking her, making her sick. She was in agony, trying to escape.
MY BABY GIRL
For some reason it had never entered my mind that with an abortion she would have to die. I had never wanted my baby to die; I only wanted to get rid of my “problem”. But it was too late to turn back now. There was no way to save her. So instead, I talked to her. I tried to comfort her, but it was too late to stop it. I didn’t want her to die. I begged her not to die. I told her I was sorry, to forgive me. “I didn’t want to kill you.”
For two hours I could feel her struggling inside me. But then, as suddenly as it began, she stopped. Even today, I remember her very last kick on my left side. She had no strength left. She gave up and died. Despite my grief and guilt, I was relieved that her pain was finally over. But I was never the same again. The abortion killed not only my daughter; it killed a part of me.
I was in hard labour for twelve hours… when finally, I delivered, the nurses didn’t make it to my room in time… I held her in my hands. She had a head of hair; her eyes were opening. I looked at her little, tiny hands and feet. Everything was perfect. She was not a ‘foetus.’ She was not a ‘product of conception’. She was a tiny human being. She was my daughter. Twisted with agony. Silent and still.