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Testimonies
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Don't Do It
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Stephanie
Rhode Island,
United States
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My name is Stephanie. I am a mother of an 8 year old little girl. When I was 25 I found out for the second time that year I was pregnant. The first time I found out and about 2 weeks later miscarried. I found out for the second time in June of 2013. My boyfriend was very supportive of my first pregnancy, but this second one was a completely different story. We had been together for just over a year, and he had recently relapsed (he is an addict). He got fired two weeks after I told him I was pregnant and began using every day. He told me if I had that baby he would leave me. I sought his sister’s help and advice on what to do… subconsciously hoping she would tell me what I wanted to hear, that I should keep it. She was on his side.
I wasn't sure what to do, so I went to see my OB in the event that I decided to keep the baby that I did what I was supposed to and be seen by the doctor. I did this and had an ultrasound and even took home pictures hoping that if I showed my boyfriend and his sister their hearts would soften and they would support my decision. They still insisted on the abortion. I waited two months before I finally gave in and aborted. He was away in a rehab for his drug addiction, and my cousin was supposed to take me to the clinic the next morning. She blew me off so I frantically called my best friend who said we she would take me. The morning of my abortion she texted me, saying she couldn't go as she was sick. I called his sister crying that I didn't know what to do. Of course she couldn't take me because she had to work, even though she was one of the two people who cornered me into doing it. So she called their mom, who had no idea I was pregnant and told her she had to take me. I got to her house at 6 am and she came out crying and asked how far along I was I told her I was 14 weeks. The whole ride I was a mess and she was a mess. We got the clinic and, as we were walking in, people were telling to me that I had other choices not to go in. I ignored them, secretly wanting to run to them and save my baby.
The clinic was cold…filled with other women with the same fate as me. I went back for blood work and met with a counselor. I told her I was still so unsure and told her how I had been cornered into to doing this. She assured me I was making the right choice and that I would be "fine". The rest is all a blur. I remember changing into the dress and looking at myself the mirror, asking myself, “What the hell are you doing, get out if here now!” I remember the cold white room…The craftsman toolbox where the surgical instruments were stored and the bucket of bleach at the end of my bed. I remember the nurse performing one last ultrasound, and the anesthesiologist coming in. My heart rate jumped to 168bpm and they shot me with an anxiety med. I wanted to scream out, “I change my mind!” But I was out within seconds. I woke up in an armchair with a heating pad crying.
They gave me jolly ranchers and a pink paper bag with my post-surgical instructions and some Motrin and within 15 minutes sent me on my way. I have never sought help for what I've done and the people who made my choice for me have never once have been the support I needed them to be.
I whole heartedly regret my decision. I urge anyone who is thinking about doing this to really think about it. Don't do it. You have so many other options. Your child's life is the most important thing in your life. Do not be selfish like I was. You will have to live with this every single minute of every single day like I do.
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