Abortion - Moments of (Mis)Conception

I've gone through it Rat...more so than you have...your girlfriend went thru it. Maybe you can tell ME what I'm suppose to feel.

Yes making the decision was hard, yes going thru with it was hard, yes there were feelings of sadness and guilt afterwards.

The only long term issues I ever had with it were the rejection and accusations coming from friends.

I've spent many hours in the PAS support boards. I've joined and talked with these women. I've participated in the discussions. Yes, the stories can bring you to tears. But the issue isn't the abortion, its the societal guilt trips. Its being told you are wrong, its having people not accepting you. Most of the women I talked with on those boards had depression problems to begin with. When you are depressed and have people judging you for a decision you felt you had to make, of course it makes the depression worse. It becomes a form of OCD, these women start to obsess on the "wrong" decision they are told they made and build shrines to their "babies."No one has said there isn't real pain out there. They are saying that treating it as something other than depression and building it up into something it isn't is wrong. It does nothing but teach these women that they are right to feel bad. It perpetuates the punishment.

nator writes:Read the entire page regarding PASD at religioustolerance.org, rat, and then tell me why it is that the website you cited claims that many women suffer from this disorder after their abortions.

That's my point right there, that's all.
If it wasn't life, then this decision would be a no brainer. If you zygote was a tumor,(which people liken a zygote too, for purposes of lying) you would not hesitate to remove, and not have any feelings of guilt.

Michaela's StorySome twenty-five years ago I was a medical physicist in a Western-staffed hospital in the Middle East. A single woman in a country where single women are expected”required”to live an outwardly celibate life. Of course I had a boyfriend, another ex-pat like myself. My mother in the UK became ill with a rare, progressive, incurable neurological disease. A widow for many years, I was her only child. The policies of the country I lived in discouraged “unnecessary” family visits, but I was fortunate in that in my professional capacity I had met the head of the secret police for the region--in fact I had treated his wife. I put my dilemma to him and my mother was granted an extended visitor’s visa so that she could live with me. I was allocated “family accommodation”--3 beds, 2 reception, 2 bathrooms--and I met my mother at the airport. My accommodation was converted to comfortably house myself, my mother and a young Sri Lankan woman hired to care for my mother. We were very contented. My mother’s deterioration slowed, and the expense of hiring Kamalini was covered by my mother’s pension. I was no longer distracted from my work by worry about her condition, and she felt secure and cared for. Time continued, mother’s condition deteriorated. A friend of Kamalini, who worked as a housekeeper in a big hotel, was paid to relieve Kamalini two days a week. One day a week, my mother spent in the hospital’s neurological unit.Then I got pregnant. A weekend away with my boyfriend, a couple of bottles of champagne, bbq-ed chicken under the palm trees--who knows what contributed to the failure of my birth control. I did not want a child. I have never wanted children. As a single woman in that particular country, I could not keep my job and give birth. If my pregnancy were to be revealed, I would be imprisoned and then deported. If I wished to continue the pregnancy, I would have to resign from my job and return to the UK in the middle of the European winter with a disoriented 70-year-old who needed, by now, virtually 24-hour heavy care. Yes, I could indeed have continued my pregnancy--but at what cost to my mother? Alone, pregnant, unemployed, it would have been a physical and financial impossibility to provide the care my mother required. I, of course, having not worked in the UK for a lengthy period, would have been ineligible for maternity benefits and unemployment pay. My mother’s pension would have been taken to pay towards her care in some anonymous institution, and what would have happened to pregnant me I do not know. The scenario was too depressing to contemplate.The decision was easy. I took a long weekend off. I flew to the UK on Thursday, had an abortion on Friday. Spent Saturday shopping, Sunday visiting a friend, gossiping, eating, drinking, and flew back on Monday. I was back at work that evening. If I had not had my mother to think about, I would have made exactly the same decision. With my mother to consider, what other option was there? Thank goodness I was able to afford travel to my home country and have an abortion. Twenty-five years on - still no children and still no regrets. There is no need for either.

Mollie's StoryI always knew I didn't want to have children. I stopped worrying years ago about whether this made me abnormal, or selfish -- it doesn't. Some people want children and some people just don't, and I'm one who just doesn't.Consequently, I've always used birth control too. I guess that's one of the things that gets me about the pro-lifers: so many I've spoken to seem to think that women who get pregnant always get pregnant because they're lazy or careless. I wasn't. I always took birth control very seriously and usually used two methods at once; I've even looked into being sterilized but I always get the same response: you're unmarried and childless, so no. Ironically, when I was 18 and went to my hometown OB/GYN for the pill I was told virtually the same thing: you're unmarried, so no; luckily the campus womens' clinic was more concerned about my health than condemning me morally.I was 31 when I discovered I was pregnant. It was a shock, to say the least: as I was saying, I was always really careful and I was always told that because of an auto-immune disorder I have it would be very difficult for me to become pregnant even intentionally.It took a while for me to even figure it out: the idea that I could get pregnant even though I was cautious with the birth control, and likely next to infertile, seemed impossible. I'd missed my period but that wasn't unusual with my auto-immune problem. It was the so-called morning sickness that made me realize what was happening.Suddenly I could no longer be near food at all. Even walking through the grocery would make me so nauseated I couldn't out of there fast enough. Driving by a burger chain and smelling the food I'd have to pull over until the waves of nausea passed. I was teaching at a private two-year college at the time and just getting through my classes every day was wearing me down badly. A home pregnancy test soon confirmed the impossible, and I was on the hunt for abortion service providers.I was living in a rural Appalachian town at the time, and the closest abortion provider I could find was about seventy miles away. I had to go once for the pregnancy test and other bloodwork, and to be counseled (as required by state law) as to the alternatives to abortion (a complete waste of my time and the counselor's if you ask me), and to make an appointment for the actual abortion.The earliest they could get me in was two weeks from then because they were just that busy; they could only afford the extra security they needed on days they performed abortions two days a week, and with that, and this clinic being one of the very few in the area that would perform abortions, just getting an appointment for one was a challenge.After two more weeks of vomiting when near any food apart from soda crackers and Cheerios, the time for the appointment came at last. I drove myself to the clinic and my partner and I sat in the parking lot for thirty minutes, awaiting our turn to be escorted inside by armed guards. All the while pro-lifers circled the parking lot, praying the rosary and yelling at the girls and women arriving at the clinic. I smiled and waved at them, but it struck me how many seemed so self-satisfied by what they were doing: terrorizing young women who were sick, frightened, and making a choice no one makes lightly.It took a long time, mostly because of the wait. There were perhaps fifty other girls there that day, most very young, I and a Saudi woman of 28 were the oldest women there by far. The worst part, I think, was the waiting. First you waited in your car until a guard could escort you inside. Then we got to wait downstairs for a while in a large waiting room all together, but as your time got closer you were taken upstairs to wait and I had to wait alone while my partner stayed downstairs as men weren't allowed on the second floor (except when escorted by a staffer).They'd told me to take four ibuprofin tablets before I got there that morning and to try to have a breakfast -- I got the tablets down okay but the breakfast was out of the question. I'd arrived at 7 and at 1:00 the doctor was finally ready for me. My partner was brought upstairs to sit with me and so as I was on the table, he was next to me smiling sweetly at me the whole time, one hand over my heart and the other holding my hand.It was uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt. There was some pinching as my cervix was numbed, then some strange sucking feelings during the abortion itself, but that was it. When it was over they escorted him downstairs again and the nurse took my arm and walked down the hall with me to the "recovery room", a dimly lit lounge with plush recliners and heating pads for us. I was given my first dose of antibiotic there, and a glass of water. As I relaxed in my recliner, cramps set in, but they weren't really any worse than my normal period cramps.After about forty minutes a nurse checked me and decided I could leave if I wished. I went downstairs and checked out. By now the protesters were gone--someone told me they always left about 9 to go to the other clinic in town and harass women there.I drove myself home, and crawled into bed with another dose of ibuprofin and some welcome snuggling from my partner and slept through the rest of the afternoon. I woke up about 7 that night feeling better than I'd felt in weeks.The bleeding lasted about four days, like a normal period except I only had cramps about the first 24 hours; the nausea was gone almost immediately.We went out for dinner that night to celebrate, and now, two years later, I can honestly say I've never felt the slightest ounce of regret and I doubt I ever will. I did what was right for me and my partner, and we're still together, still happy, and still child-free.I'm not sorry: I've nothing to be sorry for.

Nancy's StoryIn 1980, I had an abortion when I was 23 years old and already the single mother of a 3 year old son. I was four weeks pregnant by a man I loved who told me he wasn't ready to be a father.Six months before, I'd returned to college at Cornell University in Ithaca, NY to finish the BA I'd started at Oberlin College in the early 1970s before I dropped out and ended up having a child. I was living on welfare/AFDC at the time and scholarships; the last thing I needed was to have another child. I wasn't ready to be the single mother of two children which was why I made the decision I did. I have never regretted my decision. In fact, the doctor who performed my abortion actually told me during the procedure that he respected my decision and my clear-eyed strength and determination to be a good mother to the one child I already had.I went on to finish my degree in anthropology with distinction in all subjects. I raised my son mostly alone; he is now grown and in college in New York City. I had a successful career as a publishing professional for many years and also earned my M.A. in writing. Several of my short stories have been published. I would never have been able to have the rich life I've had and help my son as much as I have if I'd been the single mother of two children.

Parva's StoryI am a 33 year old professional Canadian woman and I’ve had two abortions. The first time I had an abortion, I was 29, and it was all due to my own stupidity of having unprotected sex. My boyfriend at the time was passionately pro-life and he claimed that he was devastated by my decision. We had already broken up by the time I found out about my pregnancy, and while I wasn’t so political about the abortion issue at the time, his accusations that I had done something “immoral” still managed to crack me up. I never saw him again.The second time I was 31, and it was because my current boyfriend & I were trying the natural rhythm method, which failed. We have since become more aggressive and cautious about birth control. My boyfriend is extremely supportive, and is a strong proponent of women’s rights. He does not want children either, and so as a couple, we are in complete agreement on the whole issue. My boyfriend is even willing to have a vasectomy but it is me who wants him to wait “just in case” his feelings change.I must say though that both times I did feel an irrational sense of shame - mainly because abortion is such a politicized issue, and when you find yourself facing an unplanned pregnancy, you are inevitably filled with complex emotions. You view yourself through the lens of a society that still treats an unplanned pregnancy as the woman’s fault. Dirty words like slut are still used to attack the character of women who are sexually active, while it is considered a man’s natural right and privilege to enjoy sex with as many women as possible. This sad double standard can often create self-doubt and shame in the mind of even the most self-assured and independent woman! So yes, I did feel foolish and vulnerable both times. But I was able to outgrow these emotions, because in the end rational thought prevailed.I feel so sorry for American women, because abortion is so much harder to get in the US than it is here in Canada. My own experience was great. Doctors and nurses were very professional and helpful. There was no ridiculous “are-you-really-really-sure-you-want-to-murder-your-baby” waiting period, and the procedure is even paid for by the government! I just hope that American women will take the act of voting seriously because they do have control over the kind of leaders who get elected.I am very glad that I had those abortions. Each time, my decision was a no-brainer, and I have never once regretted it. Just because I do not view abortion as a moral issue does not imply that I am a heartless person. Sure, I’m extremely focused on my career, and have never had a desire to be a parent, but that hardly makes me callous or selfish. Different, perhaps, from the average woman portrayed in the media, who is apparently waiting for a man to put a ring on her finger and can’t wait to have lots of babies! My boyfriend and I have no desire to become husband and wife, we value each other’s independence, and are each other’s best friend.

So, when does an egg and a sperm become a full human being?

Or, are eggs and sperm also fully human?

And, I am very interested in your thoughts on my posts to you, specifically #99 and #98.

So, your daughter or daughter-in-law is nothing more than a grandchild growing machine to you?
Frankly, who cares what you want?

I understand it to be when the egg and sperm have united.

I doubt anything I say will convince you that humans aren't special so,

Then why do we count age from the time you were born, not the time you were conceived?

So, your daughter or daughter-in-law is nothing more than a grandchild growing machine to you?
Frankly, who cares what you want?

Please show where any of us said that we were against helping these women.

Helping such a person would be to support them in their decision.