I had a pregnancy termination when I was 16 years old. I’ve decided to blog about it here due to the amount of attention the topic has received on my Formspring page, where people can ask anonymous questions. I was unsure about whether or not I should discuss it here, but I’m going to. Mostly because I’m tired of repeating myself, explaining myself and re-typing what has already been said a dozen times. But also because I think it’s good to share this experience, to show people that all women who have pregnancy terminations don’t regret it, they don’t live the rest of their lives in misery over it. Some women do have positive experiences and I am one of those women. I know that this blog post might receive some criticism, whether it’s voiced or not. I’m well aware that writing publicly about these things can affect everything from family relationships and friendships to job opportunities and workplace discrimination. But I am not ashamed about this. I feel no guilt, I feel no shame. Anyone who believes that I should feel guilty or ashamed has no place in my life and I will gladly lose them.
I became pregnant at 16. I’d just turned 16. I had been with my (now ex) boyfriend for around 12 months. I was on the contraceptive pill, however I did not take it at a regular time each day, some days I would take it in the afternoon. This was irresponsible of me, yes, but I think what caused the pregnancy was an illness I had which impaired the absorption of the Pill. Whatever it was, my period was late and about a week after it was due, I took a positive pregnancy test. I told my boyfriend and he hugged me, he seemed happy.
Some background on my relationship: it was abusive and poisonous. He was a heavy drinker and became violent and verbally abusive. He had pushed and shoved me before, spat on me, called me all the names under the sun. He also smoked pot regularly and took pain killers recreationally. He was not Daddy material, nor was I Mummy material. We would never be a healthy couple and eventually, five years into our relationship, we parted ways.
So, anyway, he seemed happy about the positive test. I called my mum and told her. Her first words were “Oh, Emma, what are you going to do?”. She’d known it was coming because I’d told her my period was late; we’ve always been very close even as I went through my worst phase. I knew right from the start that I wanted a termination, that I couldn’t be a 16 year old mother tied forever to this abusive partner. I knew, even then, even when I thought I loved him, that we couldn’t last as a couple. I am so relieved that even as a troubled teenager who thought she was in love, I still wasn’t stupid enough to think we could have a family. Some would consider this selfish and perhaps it is, but adoption wasn’t an option for me because I was still in school and didn’t feel that I could deal with everyone watching me grow a baby over nine months and then ask me where it was. I also didn’t feel that I could give up the baby after nurturing it inside me for so many months.
After a visit to my GP, I was referred to a sonographer to confirm the pregnancy by ultrasound. She pointed out the heartbeat excitedly to me and I burst into tears. My mum was with me and comforted me, chiding the sonographer. She apologized.
My boyfriend ended up conceding that an abortion was the best choice. He had originally wanted to keep the baby but I feel that he was entertaining a fantasy world rather than taking it seriously. The termination was paid for by my parents. It was in a small brick building in the city; you wouldn’t know it was there unless you’d been there with purpose before. I filled out some paperwork and was called in by a male doctor. I immediately tensed up; I’d chosen the clinic specifically because I’d wanted a female doctor. The receptionist dismissively told me that all the females were on holidays. I went in to have an internal examination with the male doctor and I just burst into tears. At just 16, I felt so violated and humiliated and exposed. The doctor confirmed the pregnancy, again, and told me I was around 8 weeks. I was sent back into the waiting room where my mum, my boyfriend and his mother were waiting. I’d asked him not to bring his mother but he did anyway. She had brought along a bag of weed for him to smoke in the car to “calm his nerves” and I remember that this confirmed it in my head, as if I needed it, that I had made the right decision. I was eventually taken into the theater, which didn’t look very medical at all. There was an armchair like a dentist’s chair with its back to a big window looking out to the city. It looked homely. I was seated in it. I had an IV line inserted and had some blood drawn to determine my blood type. The nurse then administered general anesthetic, telling me to look at a poster on the ceiling that had the faces of celebrities on. She told me to see how many I could name. I couldn’t name a single one before everything faded to black.
Some time during the blackness I apparently had a suction aspiration abortion.
I woke up in recovery – another homely looking, well lit room – feeling very hungry. I can’t remember what else happened here, maybe more paperwork? A lot of waiting. I went home with my parents in the car and I vomited on the way home, nauseous from the anesthetic.
Aside from this, my recovery was very uneventful. I had no pain, no terrible abdominal cramps, no suicidal thoughts or infertility. Life went on as normal and I did not spare a single thought towards the termination. It was simply that – a termination. Something that had started and then stopped before anything could eventuate. I feel, wholeheartedly, that my pregnancy termination saved my life. The difference between pro-choice and pro-life is that pro-life favours the life of an unborn embryo. Pro-choice favours the life of a woman who already has a life, a woman who has already been born. The thought of having a six year old child to an alcoholic man who never loved me horrifies me. I see a life of violence, sadness, loneliness, cruelty and darkness. Having had Blake at 21 with a man who loves me very much, I know that I could not have coped at 16, probably as a single mother if not with an abusive partner. When I think of my termination, I feel no shame, no guilt, no sadness…just immense relief. I have since met the love of my life and made a beautiful son with him – something that probably would never happened if I never made what I believe was the right choice.
People who are close to me in real life know about this. If it ever came up in conversation with someone who wasn’t close to me, I wouldn’t hide it. People have asked me about it online and I have responded with honesty. I’ve received some vile messages filled with hatred as a result. And I could not care less. Photos of embryos at 8 weeks old, comparing the embryo to my own living breathing son Blake, calling me a “murdering cunt”…all these futile attempts at making me feel guilt may as well be spoken to a brick wall.
I am happy.
