The war on reproductive rights is a war on all of us. We must speak up. If it can happen there, it could happen here too. Fuck anybody who tries to fuck with your uterus.
On March 12, 2013 — I had an abortion.
And I'm really fucking glad I had access to a safe one.
As we watch the cowards of the United States try to take control over reproductive rights once again, I feel compelled to share the story of my abortion.
I know some of you are going to judge me for this and even think I'm evil or a murderer, which I reject and find quite sad. There's no reason for you to be involved with or have a say in what I do for the benefit of my life, my body and my well-being. But I do encourage you to listen to my story.
No one should have to explain or justify why they need an abortion, so I'm not going to do that. But I am going to share the story with you, because like so many others—our stories deserve to be heard.
Because like many others—this is something that came out of nowhere, that I tried to prevent—but was ultimately still put in the position of having to do, because of a man's poor choices.
I feel lucky and privileged to have had access to a safe abortion, and also to have been in school so I didn't have to pay over $400 for it. But even though I knew the decision was right for me, that doesn't mean it wasn't heartbreaking, painful and depressing to go through.
Let's rewind to January-February of 2013.
I was in the start of my new relationship with Derek, but unfortunately I was still living with my ex.
I had broken up with my ex in the summer of 2012 after a few years of abuse and toxicity that I couldn't handle any longer. But due to the lease we signed and our financial situation—we had to continue living together. At that time, I promised myself I would be single and spend time on my own, away from guys.
I suppose the Universe had other plans for me because in October of 2012, Derek and I connected.
My ex was understandably jealous. It was painful living with someone you still loved and cared about, knowing it wasn't working and they were moving on.
We didn't know how to handle this turmoil.
We were both toxic and abusive to each other. I was scared of him, but there were also times when I became someone else to protect myself.
At the time, I thought all I had to do to stay safe was hide my money and not be home very often. But I would soon find out there was something else I should have been hiding.
We both tried to spend as little time at the apartment as possible, but I also didn't want to pay rent for nothing and be afraid of my own space—so I would have Derek over as much as I could.
One night after being intimate, he panicked at the sight of a broken condom. I was calm and said I would get Plan B the next day. I've been here before.
I wasn't on birth control because I have Factor 5 Lodin, which makes me at higher risk of getting a blood clot, and my older sister had a stroke when she first took the pill. I took the preventative steps.
I didn't have any second thoughts after going to get Plan B because like I said, I've been here before.
Family Day Weekend rolled around and my mom came to Kingston for a lunch at Red Lobster. Later that evening, I started to get sick. Fucking food poisoning, I thought.
But then I got sick again in the morning, and again in the evening. And then again the next morning. Fuck. I knew I needed to go get a pregnancy test. I think I sent a friend to get me some because I was so violently ill.
They all came back positive and I was in shock because I thought I did everything I needed to do when a condom breaks, just like I had before with no worries.
I panicked. I went searching through my bedside table for answers and saw a collection of condoms with holes poked in them. My heart sank. All of the condoms we had been using had holes in them.