"Your due date is around February 1st" were the only words it took for my world to come tumbling down.

My Story February 1st 2010.. It has a significant meaning in my life. No, it's not my birthday, or an anniversary, it’s not the date I bought my first house, or passed my degree.. It's the due date of my unborn child. "Your due date is around February 1st" were the only words it took for my world to come tumbling down. I'm still surprised that I gained the ability through my hysterical crying to comprehend the words that came out of the nurse's mouth. I didn't know the sex, size, or shape of the baby-but knowing that February 1st was its day to take a place in this world and mine was enough for me to make the most important decision in my life this far. Say what you will about making the private public, but I feel this isn't something I need to be afraid of talking about. You may end up hating me because of this, but...I'll still consider myself one of the lucky ones. I was a woman who made her decision with a sound mind and with the support and respect of the other individual responsible for the situation. I had a hand to hold, a man in my life who showed deep respect for me during what proved to be a sobering yet empowering, and certainly life-changing experience. May 22nd 2009.. I sat in the waiting room, and I didn't feel anything...But still, the women around me, the looks on some of their faces, their posture...they weighed as heavily on me as my own situation. These women were gravity for me as the emotions started to fall out of me, tears, followed by jokes, followed by uncertainty, followed by more tears. That waiting room had a way of equalizing us - We're here because of mistakes. It didn't matter how or why or how many times or how far along - We're here because somehow, something went wrong, and now we've got some extra DNA implanted into our uteruses. We all said the same thing when that 2nd line appeared: "Oh, shit." Situations like this inspire me, here I am surrounded by women who are as real as I am, each of us moments away from the tangibility of our own "Oh, shit". But still, logic in mind, I remember as the nurse called my name I had no control over the sheer volume of liquid falling from my eyes. I clung onto my boyfriend sobbing into his chest, silently praying that he, we, would change our minds. So, then it was me. No distractions. Me and the white room, the undressing from the waist-down, covering myself with paper, looking at my weird odd socks and the 2-day old stubble covering my legs. Hard to feel empowerment when your privates are hanging out in such harsh sterile light. The doctor tells me that I need to scoot my bottom about 2 feet more to the edge of the table...AND RELAX (because if I don't, it will hurt more) into the most awkward spread-eagle of my life, while my ankles tremble in stirrups. The ugliness of awkward. Enter shot into my arm, blunt pinching, warmth. Not so bad. I began to feel sleepy and calm. And then the humbling pain, the sort of pain that I'm sure most mainstream pro-life pundits would say that I deserve... Pain that is humbling because what's inside of me, what has been so private and so much of my own quiet and sometimes epic fail, is being drawn out. Maybe this is what an exorcism feels like. Maybe this is punishment, maybe this is what will stay with me...The plunging pain, the way I can't control it and then I gasp and grab for the nurse's hand. Then it's over. A smile from the doctor, I did fine. Legs still trembling in stirrups, brain not sure if movement is possible, privates out in all their misery, Um...Dignity? Certainly lost in the way she had to put my underwear back on for me. Certainly lost in the way I felt, or didn't feel. I'm led to a waiting area, Enya playing somewhere in the background, obligatory dim lighting. More hobble in after me, the nurses act different levels of gently concerned as the women get seated. Tears started pouring down my face again. I couldn't stop crying. I felt such relief that this was all over. I felt so proud of myself for being strong and making such a hard choice for myself...the right choice. I also felt so sad, so empty and totally different. I kept telling myself how lucky I am to live in a place where I had the opportunity to make that choice for myself. At times I felt so confused and alone. I cried a lot. I wanted my baby so much, and I look back now and think of my selfishness at not wanting to create a new life, but I knew I wasn't ready to be a mum. This was the hardest thing I have ever done and probably will ever do, afterwards I saw how incredibly precious life is, and I'm overflowing with such mixed emotions, that's why I'm about to call CareConfidential and sign up for 'The Journey'. My heart goes out to everyone who has been through something similar, I truly feel your pain and wish that we can all find peace and forgiveness. Editor’s note: Thank you for sharing your unique and powerful story with us.. Yes, it’s the first part of your journey where, as you say, you will be able to find the peace and forgiveness that you are looking for. Your story is beautifully written and you show a mature and developed awareness of your emotions, your heart, who you are, and what you have journeyed through and are now journeying into. I am sure that your story will help and inspire many others too who are making sense of their own situations. You are making a very positive step towards finding healing from your pain by getting in touch with us. I hope that others in similar places will be inspired to take the same steps as you.
This story was sent in on 15/10/2009 and it's been viewed 860 times.

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I'm 23 and can change my mind later, right now my youngest has just left baby-stage and I'm enjoying not having a baby in the house again.

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