An In-Depth Conversation About Abortion: One Month After

Jul 20

[Image Credits: Louise Bourgeois with Tracey Emin, Do Not Abandon Me, 2009-2010]

By Victoria Rowe and Serena Cesareo, in conversation

How do you feel, Vic?

I feel a bit nauseous. I don’t know if it’s just psychosomatic, the thought of talking about it. I have that feeling when you know your period’s about to come, and you know you’re about to get a really big cramp. I don’t know if you get that.

Is it because you haven’t talked about this in a while, or because in general thinking back does not feel good?

I think both. Also, because I’ve had my period for seven days. Every time I see the blood, it’s a reminder.

Do you ever also think that when this period is over, then everything is finished? Almost as if you’re attached to this process in some way.

I was in and out of hospital so much, so I’ve been aware of the pregnancy hormone gradually going down. Not everyone has the experience that they’re going back and forth so much, so I guess taking the pregnancy test that they give you from the hospital three weeks after, and then having your first period, would really signify that it’s over. But I have that feeling about the emotional side of it: when I stop feeling so low, it’s all gone. And that’s also really sad. It’s like the process and the part of me that I’ve connected to in this pregnancy will be gone.

I feel like I’ve destroyed a part of myself. I think that’s the bit I’m grieving for so much. Suddenly your body’s doing this thing that it’s naturally meant to do, and all your hormones are telling you this is kind of ‘the thing’, so even if it’s the right decision, there’s this conflict between this and how we exist in the world now.

Because I’m so embodied in everything I do, or try to be anyway, it feels like I destroyed part of that connection to myself, that part of me that I listen to. I wonder if now I’m also not allowing myself to connect back with my body because I don’t feel like I deserve it.

Is it because of the idea that you’ve done something against the ‘natural course’ of what your body ‘should’ have done? Or is it connected to the unfair shame around abortion?

I think both. I think the shame is just there. I didn’t know it would be. When friends have had abortions, I’ve not felt that shame towards them at all. But the shame is here, and it’s so present. Even in how I choose to talk to people about it. After the abortion, I went to the herbal shop in Seven Sisters and I was looking for something to help with the pain of the bleeding because I was still in so much pain, and I felt too ashamed to tell the woman that I’d had an abortion, so I told her I’d had a miscarriage. I know it’s not the same, but I felt too ashamed to say that I’d had an abortion. I feel like there’s shame because I chose this. And I should be okay with that choice, but it’s conflicted.

It’s hard to tell people that even though it was the right decision, I still have regrets with it. Even though I wouldn’t change the decision and it was the right one, I still sit with it, and it still doesn’t sit right.

Why do you think that is?

Part of me wanted a baby and I didn’t really connect with that before I got pregnant. It wasn’t something I thought was important at this point in my life. But I also feel a lot of shame because it feels like I didn’t deserve to keep it. Because of how my life is, because I was in a messy relationship etc. And so I have this internal shame around being a mother, especially when a lot of my friends at this point are getting pregnant, in a stable situation.

That’s a lot to carry.

And I feel angry. There’s anger because I didn’t feel like I had a choice, really. What I mean is, the choice is not between having a baby or not having a baby. It’s to have a baby or to go through this process, which feels equally as life changing.

But I know that’s not the case for everyone, it’s just my own experience.

Did you have an idea of the process before going into it?

I’ve been around friends that have had abortions, but even then, I had no idea. I thought that maybe you ring the doctors, you make an appointment, they give you the pills, you take that, and it’s done.

My process did start with me ringing the doctors. The receptionist answered the phone and, when I said I was pregnant, told me congratulations. I started crying because he was the first person to say that to me. I had a short phone call with the doctor that day, and made an appointment for another phone call.

The next appointment I could get, I think, was maybe for ten days later.

For another phone call?

Yes, the second one was much more in depth and I wasn’t allowed to have anyone with me. There were a lot of questions like ‘are you being forced into this decision? Does it feel like the right decision?’ They asked at that point if I felt like I wanted counselling. They did go through the whole process, but I remember feeling quite overwhelmed. At one point, I started crying. Then they referred me to the hospital and told me I could go the same afternoon and pick up the pills.

I arrived at the ward and was asked to sit in the waiting room. The area was sort of around the corner; the lights weren’t even on in that bit. I sat there alone and felt like that was the shame room around the back.

The doctor had the pills all there and I said, ‘I don’t know if this is the right thing.’ And I wasn’t thinking about the abortion, but more about the pills because on the phone I was asked whether I would prefer to have the pills or the surgical abortion. The surgical abortion involves them putting something up inside you and sucking it out. And that to me sounded really invasive. But then afterwards I thought, p utting all these pills in my body doesn’t feel great either. But the doctor said it was the right thing.

Did you feel any effects after that first pill?

No, I didn’t really feel any different after that one. You have a time frame of, I think, 12, 24, and 48 hours to take the next four, and I think in that time I’d started to feel quite nervous.

My friend was supposed to be with me but then she couldn’t, and I just didn’t want it to drag out another day. So after the 12 hours you take four pills and you put them up inside you, which was actually quite difficult because it’s not even like you had anything to put them up with.

All together?

Well, I did them one at a time. Actually, I can show you. The hospital gives you quite in-depth instructions for medical abortion. It was very intense. Always continue to step three even if the pain and bleeding starts. So yes, you take the first one and then you wait three to four hours. Then, depending on how far along you are with the pregnancy, you either put in two more or four more. Once I had done the four the fear kicked in. I thought, Fuck, something’s going to come.

This form is really, really great. But over here says, You may bleed heavily, usually more than a period, and see large blood clots up to the size of a lemon. The tissue is larger and more recognisable over eight weeks. All of this information, which is supposed to help, was also a bit scaremongering at the time.

They say you’re supposed to take the ibuprofen as you go, and they gave me codeine. The pain started. At first it was low, but then it became really unbearable. I started to cry because I was feeling really overwhelmed. I had the chills and a fever because the pain was so much. My body felt like it was going into shock.

I was cramping and then I started being sick from the pain. I’m laughing now but it was horrible. I was in the bathroom, and I was shitting myself. I was being sick in the bath, but nothing was coming out and I could just feel these intense cramps, like my insides were being ripped out.

It came and went in waves. At one point, I remember coming off the toilet because, by this point, I’d put in these maxi pads that felt like wearing fucking nappies. I’m sitting on the bathroom floor and I’ve got my head on the bath because it was so cold and that felt really nice. I could alternate between throwing up in the toilet and resting my head on the bath. The codeine helped a little bit, but not that much. They advise you to take one or two, but then I think I ended up taking loads of them. Which actually was fine when I looked it up online, but I think maybe you weren’t supposed to do that, I don’t know.

It’s crazy how here it says ‘cramping on and off. This should be easily managed with ibuprofen or paracetamol’.

It says quite a few times in here this is normal, this is normal, but obviously everything your body’s doing does not feel normal, and it was really scary. Eventually the bleeding did start. I was on the toilet for a lot of it. It was thick clots coming out, there wasn’t any shape to them, but it was thick and it was heavy. Then I think I rang the person that got me pregnant at that point. I was crying down the phone, and I remember he started crying and asked, ‘Is it really bad?’ Yes, it was fucking bad.

I was lying in bed for a bit. I had to keep getting up to go and throw up. And then the pain would subside a bit, the codeine would kick back in, and then it would stop, and then it would all start up again. It was like that all night. There was 12 hours of on and off pain. 12 hours. It was horrible.

My bedsheets got covered in blood that went through to the mattress protector. The next day, I don’t think I saw anyone. My friend was going to come, but I think because I had gone through the whole thing on my own, I almost started to shut down.

Before going through one myself, I’d perceived an abortion as follows: you have the abortion, you feel some sense of relief, and then you can carry on with your life. But the bleeding didn’t stop, and the pain didn’t stop, and then I ran out of codeine. The ibuprofen and the paracetamol weren’t doing anything.

I was getting out a little bit at the beginning of the week after, but I was still in a lot of pain. Everything was exhausting. After some days, I rang the nurse because I was still in a lot of pain. I was told that the pain is normal, and to take paracetamol. If it got worse, go to A&E.

The next day the pain was worse, so I rang again and they told me to go in for a blood test. I started to get paranoid that I had an ectopic pregnancy (when the embryo is located somewhere other than the womb, which can be life threatening).

After taking the blood test they told me I had to go back in two days to check that the levels of progesterone were going down. The next day the pain was still really bad so I went back in for a scan and they told me there was part of the pregnancy that was still in my womb.

‘It should be fine. That’s what the cramping is. Your body’s trying to cramp it out. If it’s still like this in a few days, we’ll probably have to give you more pills to put up inside you or you can have it surgically removed.’

I started to go delirious from the pain. And I started to get very paranoid that everyone hated me. I’d sent a few text messages to friends, and people weren’t responding or were busy, and I’d convinced myself that everyone was talking about me, and everyone was shaming me for what I’d done. I really felt alone, more alone than I’d ever felt.

I’d lost control of my thoughts and was in an anxiety spiral. When I rang the nurse again, I was crying down the phone to her and she said to go in. So I got an Uber to the hospital and on the way there, she rang me back and told me she was going to ring again if I wasn’t there in however long, to check I was okay. They were the same people that I saw every day more than anyone else.

A different nurse came in once I had arrived to check on me, as the other nurse had called her and explained what was going on. I told her that I was in so much pain but everyone keeps saying it’s normal. I’d been in and out every day for blood tests. Something didn’t feel right. She told me they would do a scan and some more tests.

The doctor did an examination, then she told me there were remains stuck in the opening of my womb and that’s what was causing me so much pain. I also had an infection: I had noticed that there was a smell, but I assumed it was part of the process. She asked if it was okay for her to just remove what was left. Lying there with my knees up, she did. I don’t know what she used, in my head she used a fucking scalpel because that’s what it felt like, but I don’t know. I could just feel her scraping.

Then she showed it to me and asked if I wanted to get rid of it myself, or if they should. I signed a document that said I was okay with them disposing of the remains. I asked her why they gave the choice. It is for religious reasons.

Then she asked if I wanted some more codeine. I said, Yes, please.

And then what was the pain like?

It wasn’t as simple as that from one day to the next it was gone. But once the antibiotics kicked in, my mind started to feel a bit better.

Do you think that the negative paranoid thoughts had come from the hormones?

I think so. I felt so alone. Not because there wasn’t some support around me but because you are alone in some ways – no one else can feel that pain for you.

I also felt ashamed, like people were judging me because I made the stupid mistake of getting pregnant. Even though I took the morning after pill.

And the morning after pill – I remember when you told me this I didn’t even know – is not always effective, right?

Yeah, it’s not effective at all if you’ve ovulated. Because the morning after pill stops you from releasing the egg, so if your egg has already been released, it doesn’t do anything.

If a friend of yours got pregnant and they wanted to get an abortion, what would you tell them?

I think I would just try and support their decision. You don’t want to scare people into not getting an abortion. But I think the sentence that I keep coming back to is ‘to have a baby or to have an abortion’. It’s a real process that you’re going to go through.

It can be a lot easier than my experience. I’d tell them they need support around them, someone to validate every feeling. You want to be with a community of older wiser women, you know?

In that time after the abortion, I was desperately trying to find women or stories of women or something that made me feel connected to another human being. In fact, in that week I was reading this book called Stillborn, which you might think is a really weird choice of book to read as you’re having an abortion. It was about being a mother, and I think I was just looking for some connection to being a woman. I guess maybe also because in this whole process I felt like I’d thrown away part of what it meant, for me, to be a woman. I was trying to find some other experiences of that. And that’s what I think I felt was most important.

There is self-hatred. I felt like I’d destroyed part of myself in this process. I felt like I had done something really dirty and disgusting. It was the right thing to do, but there is still regret. I felt like I had betrayed my body.

Do you think that it was discussed as something simpler than it actually was?

Yes. I wasn’t prepared but I don’t know how you prepare people without scaring them.

I wouldn’t change my choice; it was the right choice. But it’s hard to sit with someone else’s confusion and sadness about that, I think.

There’s that duality of feeling relief and also sadness. When there’s two things that sit together in that way, we feel bad about it. Like it should be one or the other, you know?

How do you feel this experience has changed you?

I am still myself. I’m just in the darkest part of myself, and I will be here for a while. But it’s still me. It’s me with my history, with my confusion. I feel like I’ve aged a hundred years. In soul lifetimes.

I think I am listening to myself in a way that maybe I haven’t always done. I’m resting, and I think the difficulty now is to be with other people. That’s where I feel a bit blocked on. But it’ll come back.

All of my resources have gone inwards to keep the fire burning, and to stop me reaching a complete bottom. I feel alone and quite invisible. And very small.

A message from Vic:

Serena and I started these discussions with the hope of opening up more conversations around abortion. I feel the polarised nature of the decision to have a baby or have an abortion doesn’t leave much space for discussion, let alone the heavy shame, grief and other emotions that may arise for someone experiencing one. Also, its secrecy means we are educated little about the physical process and its impact.

Each person’s experience of an abortion is so different, and their own. Here I express my own experience and my feelings toward it at the time of conversation. I am forever grateful to live in a place where having an abortion is safe and accessible, and for my own privilege with the support I had around it. I am a mental health professional and was in therapy throughout this time.

My heart is full of love for the web of people that caught and held me over these months. I hope this conversation can help us to talk more about it, so those faced with the decision have the support and resources to find their way through it.