“I first did an ultrasound, which they wouldn’t let me see. They said I was exactly 8 weeks along. I asked, “What does it look like,” picturing a little thing with arms and legs. They said very curtly, “It looks like a tiny fetus,” and shut off the machine.

Then I went into a room to see a counselor, who asked me how I felt about it, if I was being forced to do this, etc. I told her I have a crap job, I live alone, I’m in debt, I’m trying to finish college, I’m not in a relationship with the father, and it just was not the right time. I told her how I was very scared of the actual procedure and she told me it was like bad menstrual cramps, and that I’d be given drugs to ease the pain. I felt better and she had me sign a million papers. I was given a blood test, and then we (the counselor, me, and the father) all went upstairs….

After more waiting, my name was called and I went to a large room where several other women were sitting, all in hospital gowns. I was asked some more questions, then told to wear the gown and use the restroom. Once I came out I was given several pills, including valium, vicodin, ibupropen, and some other pill to help my uterus shrink to normal size. Then I was told to sit and wait for the drugs to kick in.

I waited about 30 minutes, and soon I was the only person waiting. I was told that when I became drowsy, they would perform the procedure. I was feeling tired, but wasn’t sure if it was from the lack of sleep or the drugs kicking in. A nurse came and told me it was time and we walked to different room to do it.

I sat on the table and lied down, and had a nurse on my left, and the doc and another nurse at my feet. I was tired, but remembered what the counselor had said about it being like cramps and wasn’t as scared. The nurse next to me held my hand and I felt the doc put in the speculum, then the cotton swab. Then I felt this shooting pain and was told they were numbing my cervix. Then I felt the worst pain of my life. I was sobbing, yelling, thrashing around as the nurse held me down and kept telling me to relax, I was doing great, it would be over soon, etc. It felt like forever. I remember hearing the doc say, “Hush up, it’s not that bad.”

I felt like I was being tortured. I’m not exaggerating; it was the worst pain I have ever experienced. After it was over I still had stabbing pain in my abdomen and could feel myself bleeding everywhere. I was sweating everywhere and absolutely weeping. The nurse who held my hand helped me sit up and then she and another nurse slowly put my legs together to get my underwear on. The two of them walked me to a recovery room and had me sit in a chair. I was still sobbing, feeling the pain and begging them to let me lie down. They wouldn’t let me and plopped a heating pad on my belly, which didn’t help anything; adding to my sweat, already dripping off me. I wouldn’t stop asking to lie down, and as I sat there, three nurses muttered to each other if they should let me or not. Finally, they said I could, but that I had to use the toilet first. I didn’t even have to go.

I was helped into the restroom, and really get fuzzy at this part. The drugs finally hit me, all at once, and I fell off the toilet and onto the floor. I remember hearing the nurses say, “Stay with us! Stay with us!” but I was too tired to care. I vaguely remember being lifted onto a rolling bed, and conked out. I was dimly aware of the nurses around me, checking my blood pressure and checking my bleeding (I soaked thru my underwear, the gown, and the sheets). …

I fell back asleep and what seemed like a minute later they woke me up to tell me I had to leave because other patients were coming in to recover. A half hour had passed in reality. They helped me get dressed, then put me in a wheelchair. I couldn’t keep my head up so I was slumped over and falling asleep again. Later, the father told me it freaked him out to see me in a wheelchair and not moving. He said the nurse told him that “the drugs hit her pretty hard,” and left it at that. He put me in the car and we drove home. I slept the whole way….

I do not regret my abortion, because I believe that it was not the right time for me to have a child. I do not believe I murdered anything, because one cannot murder a soul. I believe that the soul, the life of the child will return to me when it is the right time. The same night, I wrote a letter to him (I know my child would have been a boy) explaining why I did what I did and asked for him to forgive me. That night I dreamt of my future son, who told me one day I’ll be his mum, and a good one at that. One day.”