Our heroine honestly confessed what her “mistakes of her youth” resulted in.
I had my first abortion at 19. Stupid? Yes. Also naive as hell. Believe me, if I say that every time, remembering that the “red guests” haven’t come to me for a long time, I thought about anything: from a failure in the cycle to … Yes, I didn’t think about anything! Moreover, about pregnancy.
With some excuse, I will say that I was sure: getting pregnant is not about me. A couple of years before this, the gynecologist, during a routine examination, said: before I am going to give birth, I need to be treated, otherwise there is no way. Adhesions in pipes, something like that. At 17, it was not at all interesting, it was deposited in my head that one could not use protection. Well, here it is.
After 2,5 months of delay, I still went for an ultrasound scan. I didn’t even do a test before that – this is to the level of my naivety. Imagine the reaction of a doctor who saw a properly developing embryo in my uterus at the time when I was ranting about my hypothetical infertility.
“Say hello to your” specialists “, 11 weeks” – the phrase, which sounded like a sentence, cut me off in mid-sentence.
To give birth? Such a thought did not even flash. Now I already know that at almost three months the fetus is already fully formed and even feeling. I didn’t think about it then. There is an embryo, here – all life is ahead.
The beginning of the two thousandth – abortion is already a routine and widespread procedure. Only expensive for a student. I found an ad in the newspaper, took a girlfriend as moral support. The expenses were honestly shared with a young man who also did not smile at becoming a dad – a month later he completely disappeared from my horizon.
Analyzes, anesthesia, sleep. It was not possible to get off easily at such a time. For a month and a half, everything was bleeding, some clots came out, I had to do injections. Sex? Even thinking is disgusting.
Do you think it taught me something?
“You’re like a rabbit,” the same friend brought me a pregnancy test two years later. “Have you tried to protect yourself?”
We tried it, but something went wrong. Two stripes left no doubt, only the term was only four weeks. So this time everything went without serious health consequences. And even the relationship with the young man did not suffer – such is the litmus test for gentlemanliness. We broke up later, but that’s another story.
The third time, after another year, I already knew that I was pregnant before I did the test. Experience, such experience. And for the first time something like an instinct stirred: can I leave it? Moreover, a potential father is not an accidental person, a future husband. But there were again more arguments “against” than “for”. Again analyzes, examination. Only when the doctor asked what the pregnancy was, she lied – the second one. It became unbearably ashamed.
I came to conscious motherhood five years later. Everything was fine until the twelfth week. At least that’s how it seemed to me. And the next day later, at the scheduled ultrasound, they told me that my baby had been dead for three weeks.
Analyzes, anesthesia, sleep. Nightmare. What I went through three times calmly turned out to be unbearable for the fourth time. All these years, I practically did not remember these abortions, and at that moment, it was as if a multi-ton boulder piled on. No, I didn’t believe in God’s punishment. But the fact that triple intervention in my body could affect the ability to bear the baby – quite. And yes, at 27 it almost sounds like a verdict.
“Were there any interruptions before?” – the gynecologist in the emergency room of the hospital intervened in my thoughts.
“One” – yes, I lied again. I could not tell the truth even to a man in a white coat. Even half an hour before the operation.
I was discharged from the hospital a week later. I don’t know how others feel about it, but my husband and I – by tacit agreement – tried not to talk about what happened. I was grateful to him for the fact that he, knowing the truth, did not blame me for anything. But it was very scary to think about what would happen if it didn’t work out again later. Moreover, the doctors did not find any objective problems.
“It happens. Try again, ”the gynecologist told me when I was discharged.
If you only knew how much I actually tried.
It turned out six months later. To bear my daughter, I spent four months out of nine in hospitals. And this is happiness that I have succeeded, and I have it. We are thinking about the second, but we understand that it is already unlikely. I am now almost 37. Only now I still don’t tell the doctors how many abortions I actually had. And no one, not even my mother, knows that I could already have five children …