I didn’t fully understand until recently exactly how
emotionally and physically challenging the actual procedure of an
abortion could be. I’ve been fortunate enough to never have
had one, but one of my best friends, Leigh Atkins, did and she
honored me by telling me her story.
Atkins found out that she was pregnant when she missed her
period after she had unprotected sex. After the initial haphazard
thoughts including, “What am I going to do?” and
“Am I going to tell him?” she decided against telling
the potential father and for having an abortion. “I started
planning for the abortion even before I knew I was going to have it
““ I knew in my head that it was what I needed to do. It was
definitely a difficult decision.” She talked to several
friends about the decision, but she didn’t know anybody at
the time who’d had an abortion.
She stressed that the decision was made more difficult due to
the hormones that came along with pregnancy. “Your body is
telling you what to do ““ it’s telling you to take care
of this child, it’s not about your personal
well-being.” But Atkins knew she didn’t have the
resources to bring up a child or even to bring a pregnancy to term,
so she fought this natural instinct.
Even after she had made her decision to have an abortion, her
emotions weren’t settled. “It’s hard carrying a
child and knowing you want to get rid of it,” she said.
The next dilemma Atkins faced was how to pay for it. Planned
Parenthood told her that it would cost anywhere from $250 to $600.
Luckily, her insurance with Kaiser Permanente covered it, but she
ended up spending about $200 total from her own pocket.
During the first trimester of a pregnancy there are two options
for an abortion ““ a medication abortion, which involves
either taking a pill or having an injection, and an abortion via a
vacuum aspiration (suction). After an ultrasound determining her
options, Atkins chose the suction method.
Three hours before her abortion, she used a vaginal suppository
that opened up her cervix to make it easier for the doctor to gain
access to her uterus. Once in the general waiting room at the
hospital she was given a Valium before she was brought into a
private waiting room where she was told exactly what was going to
happen. Then it was time.
The doctor used a speculum (the same kind of instrument used in
a pap smear) to open up the vagina. “It’s really
painful,” said Atkins.
That didn’t surprise me so much. I hadn’t expected
the procedure to be a piece of cake. What was surprising and
poignant were Atkin’s feelings about the procedure: “It
felt like a total invasion of my body ““ they were sucking
little pieces out of my body. I felt violated,” she said.
I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have something
literally sucked out of my uterus. Monthly cramps when tissue is
dripping out is bad enough, but to have a tube up there ““
farther than I’ve ever reached or even thought of reaching
““ is unnerving. I’m sure most of us, especially us
girls, have felt even slightly violated from an inappropriate
touch. Compare that to having everything sucked out of your
uterus.
During the procedure a nurse was holding her hand and the doctor
kept asking her if she was all right. Afterward, they gave her a
pad and took her back to the private waiting room where they would
check if she was still bleeding. “I was so out of it at the
time,” said Atkins, “but I was probably there for about
20 to 30 minutes.”
The emotional turmoil didn’t simply end after the
abortion. “It took me at least three or four days to feel
like I was in a normal state of mind and even longer to feel like I
was completely myself again,” Atkins said. “It was an
emotional shock ““ being pregnant and then not being
pregnant.”
“If I had known somebody at the time who’d had one,
it would have given me some context for my own feeling,” she
said. She had talked to numerous health professionals, but
“nobody was like, “˜Yeah, I’ve been
there.'”
Online forums and discussion groups do exist. Plenty can be
found on Yahoo Groups alone, but Atkins didn’t know about
them prior to her abortion. Afterwards, she didn’t exactly
feel like discussing it. “Even among female friends of mine,
I haven’t talked about it much.”
Recently she’s become more open about her experience, but
it’s still a risk telling new people. “I think it would
be awesome if more people felt they could talk about it, but
there’s still that feeling that, “˜Oh, you’ve had
an abortion; you’re a sloppy, careless, slutty person,’
and I don’t feel that way about myself.”
I’ve noticed similar opinions such as, “I’m
pro-choice, but I could never get an abortion myself.” I
can’t imagine that someone who’s really thought through
what it means to carry a pregnancy to term and give birth ““
and then either to raise that child on her own, or give it up for
adoption ““can say 100 percent that she’d never have an
abortion herself. Maybe she wouldn’t, but unless you’ve
actually been faced with that decision, I don’t think you can
make that call.
Since her abortion Atkins decided to get an intrauterine device,
a non-hormonal form of birth control that’s inserted into
your uterus and left there for up to ten years. “It was the
best Valentine’s Day ever,” she told me
semi-sarcastically.
When Atkins first told me about her abortion, my reaction
surprised me. I felt really depressed, partly for my friend and
partly for her potential child. However, after listening to her
story in more detail, I don’t feel I have a right to that
depression. If I got pregnant in the near future, I would get an
abortion. And I would hope that people would support me in that
decision and put my well-being above all. Similarly, I’m
happy for Atkins and for the children I’m sure she’ll
have in the future.
E-mail Lara at
lloewenstein@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to
viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.