This is What an Abortion Looks Like
Two days after my "counseling appointment," I returned to the clinic. On the Christian clinic side of the parking lot entrance was a small band of pro-life demonstrators, apparently aware that the clinic regularly schedules abortions on that particular day of the week. I was relieved that no one tried to block the entrance, no gruesome pictures were held aloft, and nobody screamed threats of hellfire and damnation - only a faint plea to “consider your other options.” Let me say that, although I vehemently disagree with anti-abortion politics and policies, I do realize that there are good, honest, caring people with pro-life beliefs, and I certainly wouldn’t deny them their First Amendment rights. Then again, there’s a fine line between peaceable assembly and harassing women, and I was very relieved to be the target of a prayer vigil rather than the enemy in a holy war.
In the operating room, a nurse stood by my side to answer questions and monitor my well-being. She told me they had in the past allowed one additional person of the patient’s choosing to be present, but one man became so distressed by the procedure that he threw some equipment at the doctor; supportive partners and family members must now wait in the lobby. The doctor explained what would be happening, and before proceeding, did an ultrasound to confirm pregnancy progression – six and a half weeks, just as I calculated. I did not request to see the ultrasound, and was not pressed to do so. The doctor applied a local anesthetic, and inserted several rods of increasing diameter to dilate my cervix. The pain was like severe menstrual cramps. (I hate to scare anyone who is considering an abortion, but I found the dilation to be excruciatingly painful. I do have a very low pain threshold - I've been known to pass out after merely superficial cuts or injuries - but general anesthetic, if an option, is something to consider if you're like me.) The curettage itself was not painful, just a rather odd sensation, but I was still in such pain from the dilation that the nurse had to remind me to hold still and not hyperventilate.
It was over fairly quickly. I lay on the operating table, trying to slow my breathing. I must have been in more distress than the average patient, because the doctor then did something I will never forget. He looked at me with genuine empathy, and grasped my hand. “You’re going to be ok.” He held my hand a while longer until I nodded that I was all right. After he left, I continued to lie there until the nurse insisted I try to stand up. I weakly protested, but slowly, with her assistance, sat up, then tried to stand. I took two steps, nearly passed out, and crouched on the floor as she supported me and yelled for help. The doctor and another nurse rushed in to assist, but my dizziness passed in a few moments.
After I regained my balance, I was taken to another room to rest in a comfortable recliner under the watchful eye of the recovery nurse. I shared the space with another woman, a mother of two in her mid-thirties. Another young woman, about my age, joined us, protesting to the nurse that she felt just fine and wanted to go home “now!” I learned that this was her second abortion. The three of us shared our experiences and bonded over crackers and juice. About an hour later, revived by the refreshments and camaraderie, I drove myself home (I had insisted my husband go to work as scheduled due to a precarious employment situation), downed some ibuprofen, and later spent the evening cuddled on the couch with my husband and a mug of warm tea. I recovered quickly, bled very little and the next morning was able to drive two hours to a business appointment and work a full day.
(continued in Part III...)
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