This is a very bald, factual version of my abortion story.

I think this is a better place, so I will post here & put a link there.
This is a very bald, factual version of my abortion story. If anyone thinks it would help them come to terms with an abortion, I would be happy to supply background.
Many years ago one October, shortly after my 19th birthday, I missed a period. I didn't really think much of it until I missed another. Then I got a kit and confirmed that I was pregnant.
I was horrified, I was at the beginning of my University degree course and, as I saw it, having a baby would ruin my whole life and I was convinced IT had to be got rid off. I never thought of IT as "a baby", "a person", just a collection of cells, so the notion that I might be considering doing anything wrong never entered my head.
I decided that, if anyone was going to use a knitting needle on me, it was going to be me. So, one day, I gently guided one through the entrance to my cervix, waggled it around carefully and waited to see what happened.
Next day, I began bleeding profusely and was rushed into hospital, where I was given a D&C.
I woke up from the operation in a ward bed, next to the night nurse's station. I had awful pains and realised I was bleeding PV. I rang the bell and the nurse arrived. Took a look, left and came back with a sanitary towel.
It wasn't long before it was saturated, I rang again and this went on and on.
Some hours later, I realised I was giving birth. I held the dead child - yes, it was a child - and felt it to see what sex it was; a girl.
I rang for the nurse, she came and took it away, returned and cleaned me up. I said "Does that often happen?" She replied "Oh yes, people often bleed after a D&C." I wanted to say "No, no. I mean do people often have a baby, after a D&C.", but I didn't.
I dont know why I didn't. I dont know why I didn't ask more questions, when told that I hadn't known how far gone I was because I had a "double uterus", so could have periods in one half and be pregnant in the other.
I dont have any feeling of guilt, in my mind I set out to remove a clump of cells, not to destroy a fully formed child, so there isn't anything for me to be guilty about.
What still bothers me, however, decades later, is that I did not ask the questions I should have asked, or at least I did not persue what I did ask.
Also, I can still see myself holding that dead baby. It is not something I dwell on, but it does come into my mind when abortion is discussed and I am a bit worried about what happened to it. I'm not a relegious person, but I dont like the idea that it was dumped in a trash can, which is what I suspect happened.


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I think this is a better place, so I will post here & put a link there.
This is a very bald, factual version of my abortion story. If anyone thinks it would help them come to terms with an abortion, I would be happy to supply background.
Many years ago one October, shortly after my 19th birthday, I missed a period. I didn't really think much of it until I missed another. Then I got a kit and confirmed that I was pregnant.
I was horrified, I was at the beginning of my University degree course and, as I saw it, having a baby would ruin my whole life andI was convinced IT had to be got rid off. I never thought of IT as "a baby", "a person", just a collection of cells, so the notion that I might be considering doing anything wrong never entered my head.
I decided that, if anyone was going to use a knitting needle on me, it was going to be me. So, one day, I gently guided one through the entrance to my cervix, waggled it around carefully and waited to see what happened.
Next day, I began bleeding profusely and was rushed into hospital, where I was given a D&C.
I woke up from the operation in a ward bed, next to the night nurse's station. I had awful pains and realised I was bleeding PV. I rang the bell and the nurse arrived. Took a look, left and came back with a sanitary towel.
It wasn't long before it was saturated, I rang again and this went on and on.
Some hours later, I realised I was giving birth. I held the dead child - yes, it was a child - and felt it to see what sex it was; a girl.
I rang for the nurse, she came and took it away, returned and cleaned me up. I said "Does that often happen?" She replied "Oh yes, people often bleed after a D&C." I wanted to say "No, no. I mean do people often have a baby, after a D&C.", but I didn't.
I dont know why I didn't. I dont know why I didn't ask more questions, when told that I hadn't known how far gone I was because I had a "double uterus", so could have periods in one half and be pregnant in the other.
I dont have any feeling of guilt, in my mind I set out to remove a clump of cells, not to destroy a fully formed child, so there isn't anything for me to be guilty about.
What still bothers me, however, decades later, is that I did not ask the questions I should have asked, or at least I did not persue what I did ask.
Also, I can still see myself holding that dead baby. It is not something I dwell on, but it does come into my mind when abortion is discussed and I am a bit worried about what happened to it. I'm not a relegious person, but I dont like the idea that it was dumped in a trash can, which is what I suspect happened.

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