The topic of this blog is pretty controversial. My blog today might be hard for some of you to read. Others may be angry. But I felt it was important to write about, and It was important for ME to write it.
There’s my warning.
I'm writing about this topic because this isn't anything i can keep quiet about any longer. It's too painful. I feel enough grief and regret everyday, I'm not going to feel shame or embarrassed about it also.
Ready?
Set?
Go.
So what or who is Rio ?
Here is her story:
A couple of years ago I met “Jay” in a bar. My sister and I went to Lodo’s one night and as soon as I saw him, I knew I needed to meet him. He was beautiful to me. I approached him. We spent about 30-40 minutes together, I dared him to kiss me goodbye, he did, then the next morning he moved to Tennessee
A year later…
I was contacted by him on July 4th, 2012. He had moved back to Denver
I returned to work on Monday an anxious mess. It had all happened so quickly and he had proposed marriage 117 times (I’m being dramatic and exaggerating…but whatever).I was nervous about the possibility of being pregnant - the first time we had sex, we had a little “accident”. I took the morning after pill on Sunday. The raging hormones surging through my body didn’t make it any easier to relax and stay rational.
My body felt different instantly. Even though I wanted and requested some space from “Jay” I also noticed that my body seemed to relax and calm only when I was next to him.
I found out I was pregnant on July 23rd. I remember staring at that pregnancy test for several minutes before I could move off of the toilet and out of the bathroom. I had no idea what to say. I had no idea what to do. I ended up sending out a mass text message to “Jay”, my sisters and best friends that said, “I’m fucking pregnant.” After a few phone calls and many tears, I took a xanex and went to bed.
I called in sick to work the next day. I spent all morning crying. It continued all day, but that morning was the hardest. I was so scared. Terrified, actually. I felt so alone. The thought of going through my pregnancy all alone was so painful and it did not feel right to me. I envisioned crawling into bed by myself each night as my belly and baby continued to grow, the thought of experiencing all of it alone was so heart breaking to me that I didn’t feel like anything besides having an abortion was the right thing for me.
I made my appointment that day. The appointment date was almost 3 weeks away. I knew it was going to be a long 3 weeks, and it was.
“Jay” and I wandered in and out of being OK and connected to each other. My biggest fear was that I couldn’t rely on him and I felt trapped. I knew that if I had the baby he would be in my life, one way or another, for the rest of my life. I would be co-parenting with a man that I hardly knew, and he was planning to move back to Tennessee at some point. Time sharing my baby with someone that lived in a different state wasn't going to work for me.
It did occur to me that, all things considered, this pregnancy was a miracle and I should have the baby. So I did. Every minute of every single day until my appointment. I wanted to have the baby - but fear and logic won. As I came closer to my appointment, I was so ready to put an end to the torturous thought process I had been in.
When it came time for my appointment, I was completely certain that I was making the right decision.
On the morning of August 10th one of my best friends picked me up and drove me to the clinic. I was nervous, and somehow we laughed and joked around during our drive—i think only in an attempt to lighten the mood and lift the “weight” of what was about to happen.
I opted for the medical abortion or abortion pill Vs. the surgical procedure. When I got to the clinic, I filled out some paper work and I waited with several other women that were there facing what I was. It felt sad. I remember looking at the men that accompanied them and feeling envious. I was sad that “Jay” wasn’t there with me—but again, felt confirmation that I was making the right decision considering that I didn’t have him there with me (he went to Tennessee for the weekend) and initially i didn’t even want him there.
I went through a series of different appointments. I had an exam, which included an ultra sound. That was horrible. I met with a counselor, had my blood taken, my urine tested, then met with the doctor. The doctor gave me a medication that would temporarily block the necessary hormone for continuing a pregnancy. She sent me home w prescriptions for pain meds and the medication I needed to“miscarry.”
Once I finally got home, I had a relaxing night with my sister and one of my best friends. I remember not feeling very good.
The next morning, August 11th, I woke up, showered, ate some breakfast, picked up my house a little, organized all my meds, and tried to stay calm as I prepared to bleed. I inserted my medication vaginally around 10:00am. It took about 2 hours for the medication to kick in. Around 12:00pm I began to bleed, and around 12:30pm I was in so much pain that I could hardly breathe. Thank God for Vicodin.
The rest of the day was a blur, and what I do remember I won’t share with you, but it was pretty much the worst experience of my life. The next morning when I woke up, I knew it was over - I no longer felt pregnant.
I anticipated feeling so much relief to have this over with, I anticipated feeling so much freedom. I didn’t. Not at all.
The weekend after my abortion, I went to a music festival with my mom. This was when I became very aware that I was on an entirely new journey, one that I was not prepared for; the journey of dealing with and healing from the loss of my baby.
My experience of recovering from this is unlike anything I’ve ever gone through before. I’ve never really experienced regret. Not like this. Most days I would give anything to be pregnant again. AND most days I would give anything to be next to “Jay” again. My relationship with "Jay" wasn't ideal for several reasons. Valid reasons. But absolutely none of them should have mattered. I had an opportunity to be a mom, and i truly believe that regardless of the struggles i would have faced with the father of my baby, it all would have been worth it. And i do believe he was supposed to be in my life. And i have lost both of them.
The regret I feel and overwhelming desire I have to go back and make a different decision, keep me in my own personal hell. I can’t escape it. I’ve tried. Every day. I rationalize my decision, I understand my decision, but I hate my decision. Every day. For the first time ever, i felt my life come to a screeching halt and as i look around me, i KNOW that I'm not where i am supposed to be. That child was supposed to happen to me.
I didn’t get a baby shower to prepare for her. I didn’t post ultra sound pictures on facebook of my unborn baby. I will never hear her first cry after pushing her out of my body. I won’t get cards and flowers on Mothers Day.....But I have a daughter. I am a mom—maybe not a good mom, but a mom nonetheless.
Here is what i have learned: There are some women that spend their entire life grieving this decision and loss. And no one talks about it. Ever. It makes everyone uncomfortable. And people have strong reactions to this decision - whether it be religious or political - everyone has an opinion. Here's what i have to say to them: fuck you dude.
Here is what i have learned: There are some women that spend their entire life grieving this decision and loss. And no one talks about it. Ever. It makes everyone uncomfortable. And people have strong reactions to this decision - whether it be religious or political - everyone has an opinion. Here's what i have to say to them: fuck you dude.
My sister-in-law and brother just had a baby girl. I am happy for them, but so saddened by their experience of having her and becoming parents. It’s very difficult for me. This is not a normal response from someone like me--i want to be thrilled without any hiccups at all.
My father has cancer. The idea that I gave up an opportunity to have a child that would know him is absolutely beyond the most painful thought in the world.
A specific color has taken over my world. I call it “Rio pink.” It’s a bright pink. It’s everywhere. I journal and write letters to Rio and “Jay” often. Some would think I’m not moving on from this experience well considering how much I still hurt from this experience. But what is an appropriate length of time to grieve something like this? It will never be something I move on from, but more, i will learn to cope and live with it being a part of my life and who i am. I don’t believe that there will ever come a day that I don’t think about Rio . Ever. It is to date the largest and most profound experience of my life, it has and will continue to change me forever.
Why would i blog about it?
Because this topic needs a voice. This topic needs healing. Abortions happen everyday, to hundreds and thousands of women. It's not my place, nor your place, to determine whether that's wrong or right, but it is our place to let these women receive healing and support from the people around them. Nothing heals when it's bottled up and hidden away. Nothing. Whether I'm completely insane for blogging about this or incredibly brave, also doesn't really matter to me. It is what it is: something i needed to do.
I will end this blog by saying this: I am no longer pro-choice or pro-life. I am pro-bravery. It takes a lot of courage to make a decision like this-regardless of the choice. I still believe with my whole heart that every woman should have the right to choose, but it will never again be an option for me.
The lesson learned from this: fear will never again win an argument in my life.
