You Never Forget: How I Feel 9 Months After My Abortion

by Anonymous

Before reading this article, I want you to know this will be hard. I was young, in love and scared. I didn’t know what I wanted or what the right decision was. I just knew what I had to do in that moment in order to move on with my life.

Nine months ago, I peed on about seven pregnancy tests, and I cursed out in frustration as each and every one popped up with that horribly aggressive plus sign.

They were taunting me, telling me what I already knew: I was a slut, a failure, a f*ck up.

My boyfriend and I had only been dating for a little less than four months. How could I have let this happen? And for that matter, how on earth did it happen?

As far as I knew, my doctor assured me that the horribly painful metal bar I let him put into my arm would surely protect me from this exact moment. Well, guess what? It didn’t.

If this wasn’t the perfect reminder that sh*t happens, I don’t know what was.

I moped around all day. I weighed my options. I threw things at the wall. I snapped a test in half.

I called my best friend after crying uncontrollably on the bathroom floor alone for two hours. I sucked up the courage and left a voicemail saying, "911, this isn’t a joke. It’s the Bat-Signal! Call me, NOW!"

She called me back immediately, and I could barely choke out those two awful, dreaded words: I'm pregnant.

"Oh, f*ck" was all she could muster up.

"But don’t worry," she followed up. "It’s probably a mistake. Let's go to the doctor on Monday. I’ll take you. You have an IUD, so you can’t be pregnant."

But I was, and I knew it. I had known in my heart for weeks. The morning sickness, the awful cramps, the terrible tiredness, the awful mood swings, the emotional tears — it all made sense.

Then, I had to question whether I told by boyfriend before the appointment, after the appointment or never. When is the right time to let someone know his life could possibly be over based on what I decide to do with this situation?

I decided to tell him right away. Normally, I choose to deal with all my issues all alone, being the independent person I am, but this one was too big, too scary and too f*cked up.

He handled it surprisingly well, and I have to give him credit for that. He gave me a look of terror, but in three seconds, he put his brave face on.

He picked me up and told me to stop crying. He said whatever happened, we would get through it together.

We talked about our options, and he pushed me toward the obvious one: abortion. It’s what I wanted, but I just was so emotional about it. I couldn’t get over the fact that there was a little creature growing inside me.

And the idea of killing that — someone who could call me her best friend, confidant, hero, mentor, cheerleader and everything she needed — scared the living daylights out of me.

I wanted that baby, but I knew I couldn’t bring something into the world at this moment in time. I wasn’t ready to take care of a little person, my boyfriend and myself. I was barely keeping it together in my own life.

This just could not happen. I wouldn’t let it happen.

When I become a mom, I want to be the best mom. And right then, I knew I couldn’t. So, we did it. We went to the doctors. I swallowed a pill.

I know it was just cells that hadn’t yet formed a heartbeat, but they made me do an ultrasound. Seeing that little spec on the monitor broke my heart. Part of me died that day, and I don’t think I’ll ever get that piece back.

I spent a week in writhing pain, bleeding a fetus out of me and killing a life.

I was in physical and emotional turmoil. I couldn’t go a day, an hour or five minutes, to be honest, without thinking about what I’d done. I was constantly daydreaming at work and wondering, "what if?"

Did I make the wrong decision? Did I make the right decision? Would it have been a horrible decision to keep it?

Could I have handled it? Yes. Would it have been easy? No. Could I have made it work? Yes.

And so I realized, very fast, I would never forget that moment. It was going to be with me for life. I would forever know I had been a giant wuss. I ran away from something that wouldn’t have killed me.

It would have been hard, and I would have struggled, but I would have done everything in my power to make that kid’s life amazing. Most importantly, I would have showered it with love.

As I reflect, nine months later, I think about how right now, I would have been holding a brand spanking new infant in my arms. It would be all mine.

She would look like me and him, and she would be undeniably perfect. I would be in love at first sight, and she would be my world, just like that.

I would grow up fast, get my sh*t fully together and be the best mom ever to this little person. And all I’m left with is the harsh reality that I, Brianna Alyse Chavira, quite possibly killed the one person in this world who would love me more than I could love her.

And I say she because I know it was a girl; it just would have been fitting.

I wreaked havoc on my parents as a child. And I’ve always said, when it came time to start having kids, I would end up with all girls. It would be payback for all the torment I put my parents through.

So, my takeaway is this: I am not perfect. I made a mistake. Something horrible happened to me, and I made a decision that was best for me at that time.

I regret it sometimes, but I try to find solace in the fact that one day, when I am ready, I will get pregnant again.

When that happens, I will be able to bring a beautiful little person into this world, and she will be all mine. She will be my world. And I think I will finally be able to release myself from the guilt I feel.

My first child lives inside me. She is my spirit, guiding me to make better choices, to be a better person and to find happiness.

I truly believe I need to be happy and content before I can even think about bringing another life into this world.

So with that, I am letting myself move on.

I am finally realizing I am only human.