It Won’t Be Like This Forever: My Abortion Story

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…
our time ago…
 
We were having a bad patch.
It seems like we have been cycling through bad patches ever since we got together.
 
I don’t know how we got there.
How we kept getting there.
How we never seemed to leave there.
 
Months ago during that bad patch I sent him a link to a song about my sadness.
Ben Folds- Brick.
 
 
“That’s a song about an abortion, not us.” he said.
“It’s how I feel.”
 
Oh what little did I know all those months ago.
 
Months later…
I sat in a cold waiting room, alone.
I was filling out forms.
Procedures.
Signatures.
Statements of “understanding.”
 
Image
 
“The world is sleeping I am numb.”
 
And the text messages poured in.
It was terrible.
We had been so terrible to each other.
 
I don’t know how it got there.
How it never seemed to leave there.
 
“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”
 
Inside of me there is a seed of love created in happiness.
Of something once undeniably there.
Of something that…
 
I don’t know how it got away from there.
I don’t know how it never seemed to leave there.
 
The picketers whom I had to walk past to get into the office chanted louder.
The door to the office was open.
Perhaps it was to try and remind the women waiting that there still was light.
That there still was hope.
That there still was… something.
 
I could see the picketers from my seat in the waiting room.
Their voices continued to rise.
Louder.
Stronger.
Echoing through the empty corners of that cold white waiting room.
 
And the text messages poured in.
It was terrible.
I felt terrible.
 
“Now that I have found someone I’m feeling more alone than I ever have before.”
 
I don’t know how we got there.
How we kept getting there.
How we never seemed to leave there.
 
“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”
 
But unlike that song, you weren’t there.
When they called my name, you were states away.
 
And these were my steps.
Little steps.
First steps.
Potentially last steps.
 
There was a part of me sentenced to die…
Whom it seemed you wanted to die.
 
The love I had felt…

That we had felt…

This would be a constant reminder and it was to be completely extinguished.
 
I wiped the tears from my eyes.
I took a deep breath breath.
I closed my eyes and pretended I was Dorothy.
I chanted to myself.
“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”
 
And these were my steps.
Little steps.
First steps.
Potentially last steps.
 
There was a part of me sentenced to die…
Whom it seemed you wanted to die.
 
The next room I would be alone with a nurse.
Like the first, it would also be cold.
Stark cold nothingness.
It was the theme permeating throughout the building.
A sign of nothingness to be and to continue to be.
 
“Now she’s feeling more alone than she ever has before.”
 
The series of questioning would start.
Medical history.
Partners.
Relationships.
 
“Does the father know you are here?”
“Yes. He wants me to go through with this.”
“Do you?”
“I’m honestly not sure.  I feel terrible right now.  I want more information to try and make my decision.”
“Remember that this is your decision.  Don’t let anyone else force you to make one that you will regret.  It doesn’t matter if he agrees or not.  All that matters is you.”
 
“Now she’s feeling more alone than she ever has before.”
 
I closed my eyes and took another deep breath.

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…
our time ago…
 
He might not remember it but he said it.
“I want to have children with you someday.  I think you’re going to be a great mom.”
But he said it.
He said it multiple times.
 

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…
our time ago…
 
“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”
 
I don’t know how we got there.
How we kept getting there.
How we never seemed to leave there.
 
She continued to tell me about the procedure.
I would be asleep.
It would be relatively painless as I would be under anesthesia.
 
“The world is sleeping I am numb.”
 
“I want to find out how far along I am.  I need to know that much before I even begin to commit to anything.”
She understood.
 
It was time to take more steps again.
Little steps.
First steps.
Potentially last steps.
 
I came into a room filled with women waiting for their procedures.
Some of them were in hospital gowns.
Some of them were waiting their turn.
There were rollers with iv bags.
There were women waiting for ivs as well.
 
Image
 
It was cold.
It felt like the coldest room so far.
Stark cold nothingness.
It was the theme permeating throughout the building.
A sign of nothingness to be and to continue to be.
 
None of the women so much as looked at each other let alone spoke.
Each woman either sat and stared blankly or covered their faces in their hands.
It was a room full of ghosts.
A room full of sadness.
A room full of undeniable pain.
 
I wiped the tears from my eyes.
I took a deep breath breath.
I closed my eyes and pretended I was Dorothy.
I chanted to myself.
“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”
 
There was a part of me sentenced to die…
Whom it seemed you wanted to die.
 
The love I had felt…

That we had felt…

This would be a constant reminder and it was to be completely extinguished.
 
A nurse came in to check up on us all.
“How are all of you today?  Are you alright?  Well considering the circumstances?”
 
For a moment I felt calmer.
Warmer.
And the tears dried a little, although not completely.
 
I waited my turn.
 
Some of the women finally began to talk.
It was like they had been awoken.
Even if just for a moment.
 
That nurse was a ray of light.
She was hope.
She was a sign that there were still people who cared.
A light in that blank canvas of nothing.
 
Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.
Because maybe that’s why that door was open in the waiting room.
 
There is still light.
There is still hope.
There is still… something.
 
“They call her name at 7:30.”
 
Another nurse.
Another room.
Cold still.
Nothingness still.
 
“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”
 
Another nurse came in.
“So you’re here to get an ultrasound to find out how far along you are?”
“Yes. I am not sure if I want to proceed beyond that.  I know that knowing that much will help me with my decision and my options.”
 
I was told to disrobe from the waist down.
She would return and we would find out my answer.
 
Image
 
I looked up at a monitor.
It was waiting for someone.
It was waiting for me.
It was waiting for…
 
The nurse returned.
We started looking.
Measurements were taken.
Pictures were taken.
 
The nothingness that I felt disappeared.
I began to cry again.
 
Inside of me there is a seed of love created in happiness.
Of something once undeniably there.
Of something that…
 
I don’t know how it got away from there.
I don’t know how it never seemed to leave there.
But there it was… cozy and comfy in black and white on that screen.
 
A sign of life.
A sign of hope.
A reminder of…
 
Months ago…
once upon a time ago…
our time ago…
 
And while my heart fights the reality of that potentially never being anything more than a memory again
 
You’re still there.
 
I’m still here.
 
I’m not ready to say goodbye to either one of us.
 
And these were my steps.
Little steps.
First steps.
Potentially last steps.
 
There was a part of me sentenced to die…
Whom it seemed you wanted to die.
 
Maybe it did that day.
But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the way either of us thought it would.
 
That little piece of black and white was hope.
It was a sign.
A light in that blank canvas of nothing.
 
Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.
Because maybe that’s why that door was open in the waiting room.
 
There is still light.
There is still hope.
There is still… something.
 
And while I admit I’m completely scared and not sure about the details of what’s about to happen I know that it’s going to be ok.
 
Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.
There is still light.
There is still hope.
There is still… someone.
And I can’t wait to meet you when you get here.
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November 20th

I’m failing. I’m becoming numb to the rest of oblivion. I’m responsible, yet irresponsible. I’m behind on most everything even if I’m still moving forward. Life at a standstill.

The collection of notebooks scattered across my reality gives but a tiny fraction of a window to where I’ve been. Pieces of me. But never a full look see.

Once upon a time, I was just as scattered as the scrawlings in these notebooks. The parables and lessons.. all building up to the greater destination which ultimately may never be arrived at- me.

Like a quilt, woven woven.. handcrafted by the people in my life more than myself.. I wonder what the visual tapestry would be if it ever so existed.

The world of double lives.. multiple identities because maybe, just maybe, you’re a little afraid of that person staring back at you in the mirror. Is there such a thing as confidence through self doubt?

The thing about this particular book is that I can open it and randomly point my finger in it and learn something about myself. Each entry brings me back to relive the moment. I have a few blogs that I do that with as well. Some that never made it here. Some that are waiting the right time for their day to be shown to the world.

They are tales of the heart. Of where I’ve been. Of where I’m going. Of the spectrum of passion I’ve left in my memory like a plane writing messages in the sky. My marriage is dead. My children are gone. I have very little.

“My uncle can rant about the sun god.. & talk about not having enough money living on $200/day and how that’s not good enough…”

But what I do have are these stories. When I die, I’m not sure what I want done with these books. Different theories run around my head. Burn them? Let everyone read them and then burn them? Bury them in a time capsule? Or give them to one person for safe keeping?

Sometimes I have very little faith in people.

“I figured it out! You want to know why I smoke? Drink? Write? Do art?  Because with this family… there’s never such a thing as enough of an escape.”

Others.. I feel such moments of levity that all the hurt and pain of it all seems worthwhile.

“Wow is this what you were trying to tell me? When you said wait because someday something so much more amazing than you could even ever imagine will come your way. To be patient…
This is surreal. Pinch me.
Will they live happily ever after?
i wish. i wish. i wish.
/clicks heels”

“i love looking through this & seeing despite how mature i am, i still feel the same.”

“Of everything that I don’t know who I am..I know this:

I am a vessel for life’s experiences. I need the ocean to wash away with me. There is a purpose to all these trials and tribulations. The cause is love. I am a character that rarely gets forgotten. Black and white… yet full of undeniable color.”

And so it goes.  The stream of consciousness ever constant.  Where life will take me and what will get scrawled on these pages in both the digital, handwritten, and etheral worlds, I don’t know.  I don’t want to know yet.  Because the journey is half the fun but the destination.. when it’s yourself..

I shall give you pieces of me. I’m not sure if I’ll ever give you the full me.

Once upon a time there was a girl with a story.. and she lived it instead of telling it.

And she lived.. happily through the pain.. but still kept going afterward.