For months I have agonized on when/if I should share this story. It is one of my most painful stories to share. But it is necessary not only to share with those who read my blogs, but also to young women like my granddaughter(s) who may find themselves or a friend in a similar situation. I pray that this story touches the very core of your hearts and gives others the courage to stand strong in our present day world of sexual freedom.
On a frigid morning in February, I was sitting in a wood paneled room with at least 15 other women. The green shag carpet reflected the time period -- 1975. I anxiously scanned the room. "Who are these girls?" I wondered. I was surprised that there were so many of us. Presently a young-looking nurse in all white opened the door to call out a name. We coughed, we squirmed, but mostly we sat quietly staring at nothing. A few engage in idle chatter. But most of us quietly sat, waiting for our names to be called. I noted that we were in an office basement with just one small window - waiting to see the doctor. I shivered with cold and anxiety.
There were, perhaps, three or four males sitting with either their girlfriends or wives. My boyfriend is not with me. Although my mother sits beside me, I feel desperately alone. Then, I startled to the sound of my name by a nurse in the doorway….
As a young 15 year old I fell deeply in love with a fellow classmate. He became the center of my being and my reason for living. We were inseparable except when working our various jobs. Summers were the best as we could spend even more time together. It was the summer between tenth and eleventh grade that I freely gave a part of me that had remained mine until that moment. I was never the same, thereafter.
After sex, I felt dirty and unclean. Our dates were no longer fun and innocent. Time with my boyfriend was laced with unspoken trysts and deep inner turmoil. We struggled over the next several months -- broke-up often, only to return to one another for solace and refuge. Then the unspeakable happened.
At first I wasn't too shaken. "I couldn't possibly be pregnant," I reasoned. Up to that point I'd only seen one teenage pregnant girl. She rode our school bus to school until the day she delivered a healthy baby. I remember that this girl was stoic and seemingly indifferent to the eyes of judgment from others. "No, I can't be like her!" I groaned to myself. As the days ticked by I became more and more anxious. I worried that my classmates suspected my possible pregnancy.
My boyfriend was at least willing to go with me to see the school counselor with me. After sharing our concerns, the counselor offered the telephone number of a women's health clinic in Kansas. "They should be able to help you," Mr. Smith said with a gentle smile. The two of us, my boyfriend and I, pledged our undying love to one another, and I made plans to call this health center.
And I did. Within a week I was sitting in the offices of Comprehensive Health For Women waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. "No, you're not pregnant ... at least our test doesn't show a positive response, yet," the aide informed me. Another week went by. By now I was feeling queasy, especially in the mornings, and my body showed other signs of pregnancy. Again, I traveled to the center for a 2nd pregnancy test. After waiting for what seemed an eternity, the aide delivered the news with no visible emotion. "You are pregnant."
Before too long I was sitting in a small cubicle with a counselor. Much is lost from my memory except for these few words, "We can help you with your problem. No one needs to know." Her words resounded in my soul. "We can help you with your problem. No one needs to know," to which I mentally added,..." like my friends at school."
Now I realize that very little counseling was actually done. We didn't talk about the growth & development of this tiny being inside my tummy. I think the option for adoption was discussed, but I wasn't really interested. (What would my friends think?!) And I didn't hear much about the risks & drawbacks associated with abortions. I wish I'd been informed that I could hear the heartbeat very early into pregnancy and that fully formed features could be seen by an ultrasound. It might have made a difference for me. But I only saw one escape path -- and abortion, fast and easy.
I was looking for quick relief, an escape from the consequences of my behavior. To be able to finish high school and continue to college unscathed was my ultimate desire. It didn't help that I no longer had the support of my boyfriend unless I opted for an abortion. My parents just wanted what they thought was best for me -- for me to be able to go to college without having to go through a pregnancy as an unmarried single sixteen year old. I felt alone -- and really scared. Part of me was excited to have a little being growing inside my belly, the other part of me was very scared to face the consequences of this unexpected surprise.
In subsequent years I blamed everyone else for the predicament I was in. Only with time would I learn and accept that I, alone, was the one who had to live with the consequences of my own choosing. I freely gave away that part of myself that could have been saved for my husband. I neglected safety measures that might have prevented a teenage pregnancy. And ultimately, I made the decision to abort as a quick and easy means to get rid of an unwanted problem.
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