An abortion booked for SaturdayBy anonymous on 27/10/2011
Fears of regret overwhelm my heart. I feel as though I am going through the motions of what is expected of me, as though I am looking from the outside watching a movie of someone else's life.
I feel as though no decision is mine, that the choices I am making are more to do with what I know is wanted, rather than well thought, discussed plans.
I've somehow lost any clear way to rationalize this choice. I never imagined how powerless I would feel, how emotional this would make me, or how lost in the process I would become. Whether in my minds imagination or baked into reality, I feel something taking over my body. I feel my resources being stolen from me, used for the foreigner in my body's growth.
This feeling is making this situation so real, it's bringing up thoughts and attachments that I never expected to have so early.
As I sacrifice another day of not being able to get out of bed to sustain the life inside me, that same sacrifice is binding me to this being, it's forming a bond that I am so easily supposed to just terminate in 5 to 8 minues on Saturday.
The loneliness of the choice is unbearable.I am preparing myself for that day over and over in my mind, watching myself drive, walk in, fill out the forms, waiting to be called. Alone. the fear of that moment brings tears that will not stop. To face it alone, left with my own thoughts tormenting and second guessing, that moment is one I dread.
My thoughts can immobilize me, they can make me do things that I would never do. The self destruction I can eventually rationalize is severe and scary. I get lost in these thoughts easily, they wind me up in a maze where escape is no option. What I know brings this on, feeling isolated, feeling alone. On Saturday this will not just be a feeling of isolation, but I will be completely on my own. I fear this Saturday will be a day I end the bond with my growing life form, I fear more that that action, coupled with my own twisted thoughts will spin me in directions that lead to my own torment.
What I only know for sure is that I am so unsure.
I have repressed and swallowed every feeling that surfaces during my brief conversations with my partner. Either he doesn't care or is choosing not to care to distance himself from this choice. He will be working on Saturday, and I will be ending our baby. To him it's like I'm going to get an exam. I don't think I would be able to work on the day my child died. As if it's not even happening? I'm so angry that he is so removed and I am expected to do the dirty work. What do I do? call him when it's done, ok your child is dead, see you later? does he really expect this? I watch him sleep soundly at night and it disgusts me. why? I don't know why I feel this way, but never speaking about it, never acknowledging it, never asking me how I feel about this? yes that is disgusting to me.
Should I have made sure he could make it that day? maybe... but regardless if I had, it would be the same result. I would be doing this alone this Saturday. I cannot take 1 more week of growing a bond and make this same decision. He tries to scare me into beleiving this baby will be born deformed in someway and so that should justify everything. Right. That justifies nothing in my eyes. I believe that justifies his repulsive behaviour because he can tell himself that how he is behaving is correct. I get more support and words of encouragement from others who have absolutely nothing to do with this.
Am I being too harsh? too hormonal? too many expectations? I don't know the answer. What I do know is that I cannot for one moment find anywhere in my mind where you can legitimately act as if nothing is happening unless you have no feelings for the baby or me. Maybe having no attachment to the baby is understandable for a man, but disregarding the impact this will result in for me, that is what is so disgusting to me.
I do not want to live filled with regret and resentment.I already feel the resentment creeping up my spine with every nonchalant comment I hear out of his mouth. I do feel love for him, and I care deeply about what he wants, more so than what I want. That same love, I have felt it dissipating with the apathy he shows. All of this is too much to decipher. I am feeling the growth of a bond with baby, feeling the regret of this choice weigh on me, feeling that love I once had for him transforming itself into anger or resentment or ... I don't know. It's too soon to comprehend.
My Saturday will be one where I need to somehow sustain enough courage to do this alone. To sit in a waiting room, knowing when I am called what will happen. What is more courageous? walking through doors, of walking out of them?