Abortion stories all share two common traits; they are all incredibly personal, and yet they all sound eerily similar. Mine is not so different.
I have a dominate genetic disease, that “activated” when I was 9 years old. In many ways, this disease is hellish; I am in constant pain, I must avoid sunlight, lots of foods, there are drugs I must take and other drugs I can never take… it’s a constant battle, just maintaining what I have, physically.
I found out, when I was a teenage, that pregnancy will kill me. Unless I somehow go into “remission” [a state I have yet to achieve for even one day] and stay in remission for the length of a pregnancy, my chances of dying from pregnancy are over 80%. And even in that case – it’s a dominate genetic disease. It isn’t something I am willing to “share”, as it were. It is possible to carry the disease and never have it active – but chances are, if I attempt to have a child [and somehow survive long enough to do so] that child will be born with the disease active.
I moved to Ohio when I was 20. I was diagnosed with PTSD shortly after I moved here. I was not, at all, in a good place, either physically or mentally. I tried to kill myself many times.
I dated a guy.
Guy was a pathological liar. When I met him, he was 22. Everyone “knew” he was 22, he worked as a tech support admin, he was about to return to college to start work on his Master’s degree, he was looking for a long-term relationship, hopefully marriage, and he wanted children.
The only true statement in the above was his desire for children. I discovered that he turned 18 about 4 months into our relationship – I found out on his birthday. I suddenly understand why his mother was so angry with me. I immediately broke up with him.
And I got sick. Two weeks after I broke up with him, I had a fever that ranged anywhere from 100 to 103.8. I will ill constantly, throwing up at the thought of food. I thought I must have a kidney infection, adding all the symptoms plus the extra pain in my back, the constant migraine. I had lost 13 pounds in those two weeks. I finally went to the ER, where the doctor originally thought I had spinal meningitis. A pregnancy test was given, yes, but only because it was “required”, not because anyone thought I was pregnant.
But I was.