Abortion: I’ll Take Two

In pivotal, fork-in-the-road moments, I ask, what do I want for my life?

At 20 and 22 years old, I had abortions. Zero part of me wanted a kid at the time; the idea of being a mother brought up vomit in my mouth. 

I couldn’t fathom their dependency and how the dripping snot would screw with my plans for furthering my education, traveling, and working on and building relationships and a life of which I’d be proud.

You see, at the time, I partied – hard. Likely, to drown out the immensity of pain that came with performing CPR on my dying Mom.

The first pregnancy I’m relatively sure I was so drunk I peed the bed that night. 

The second pregnancy was with a guy who flew in from Nashville. He was a prize with the ladies, and although his attention was sporadic, the sex temporarily made me feel better about myself.

The first abortion I did at home, pushing a large pill inside myself like a tampon. The second was on an operating table at a high-rise clinic in downtown Seattle.

I’d take the clinic any day – they had good drugs.

Today I’m a mental health counselor in a small town. A few years ago, my husband and I decided to create a family, and Evelyn, our two ½-year-old daughter, the most magical unicorn that’s ever lived, was born.  

When my thoughts drift back to the mistakes and missteps of my twenty-something-year-old self, I want to thank her. Despite her pain and fear, she had the foresight and freedom to make the two best decisions in my life.

Thank you.

Love, Jaclynn