The Vagenda

The Funniest Thing About My Abortion



Just before I had my abortion, in the abortion-place waiting room, filled with the other quiet women and quieter men, Papa Don’t Preach came on over the radio.

‘…I’m in trouble deep

Papa don’t preach

I been loooosin’ sleep’

The friend who had come with me, tense and full of care, muttered blackly, ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’



And, bloody hell, it was perfect.

‘I would have been fine with some soft jazz,’ I said, quite loudly.

Another ruined woman next to me started laughing, and then stopped, because this isn’t funny. Except it was. I madeupmamind. Ahhhm keepinmababy. Thank you, Madonna. Thank you for cutting to the core of it all.

Life is absurd a lot. And thankfully, it’s often absurd just when you need it to be. Of course, the absurdity works both ways. You can’t have an absolute diamond, like Papa-Don’t-Preach-at-your-abortion, fall into your lap without understanding that you’ll need to pay for it.

Picketers outside the clinic, for instance, trying their best to emotionally scalp vulnerable teenagers and women who have made a decision about their own bodies and are simply getting on with it, at 8am on a Tuesday. A middle-aged woman in a blue coat, with leaflets that are angry, yellow and red, and knowing with a jolt that she thinks she has some right over your body. What is happening inside your body. Yours. Mine. Absurd.

And to be honest, picketing outside the clinic itself seems cutting it pretty fine. A bit like planting billboards against the dangers of drowning at the top of the water-slide. If we’ve come this far, chances are we’re taking the plunge.

Unsurprisingly, it’s fairly easy to get caught up in the drama of an abortion. After years of hearing tear-misted screen lovelies whisper the words, ‘I’m pregnant’, putting into motion a series of increasingly exciting and narratively satisfying events, it’s strange and surreal to suck on those words yourself.

As a human, and (perhaps especially) as a writer, you can’t help but step back and examine the things that happen to you from a descriptive perspective, to put into words the murky mists that travel in and around your brain. Sad, self-indulgent, not always helpful, but true. And I knew that when I said the words ‘I’m pregnant’, I said them as a character in a drama, and nothing else. For me, there was an instant separated-ness from the phrase: I was simply speaking the lines that let me know this wasn’t going to de-rail the course I had set for my life.

For others, they speak those words, and they fit. Fine. For some, there is an attachment to and repulsion from the words that make a definite course of action difficult and traumatic. It’s them I feel genuine pain for. But for me, it felt like I’d accidentally come off the motorway into a fairly pleasant village. It’s not that I couldn’t appreciate the view, it’s just that I was already running late, and traffic’s always a nightmare in similes.

And it’s funny how much guilt is still associated with it. Because when I found out I was pregnant, when the little stick did its little thing, and I felt that lifted bubble of serene horror, it popped with an, ‘OK, so who can I get some advice from about this?’ And the answer was: no-one.

No-one I knew had had an abortion, to the best of my knowledge. Because, although it’s OK now, it’s not, really. Although in my head – riddled with the cold logic of the North – this was as morally taxing as wondering whether having a flu jab is murdering innocent bits of virus, I was aware that I still had to tread carefully. Be careful who I told. Be careful how I went about this with work. And I was so cross with myself about that that I instantly told almost all of my friends, in much the way that I would tell you, if the subject ever came up. I am not ashamed that I had an abortion. The only, ONLY thing that kept me (and keeps me) from full, (read: non-anonymous internet) disclosure on the topic is the fact that I think if my parents knew, they would be sad. And I don’t want to make them sad. And that’s my choice.
I recently told a very old, very dear friend (I had the abortion in January, just for your records, Lady In Blue), and her immediate reaction summed up my feelings about the whole thing.


And it really was. But, in all honesty, I don’t feel like it was much more than that. Of course it was painful, of course it was depressing – it’s a medical procedure and you’re sick, and you cramp and you’re literally bleeding FOR AGES OUT OF A HOLE IN YOUR BODY – and of course there is that part of you, that tiny, irrational part that whispers, ‘What if this is your only chance? This is it, and you’ve missed it? What if tomorrow, your torso gets blown off by an angry mechanical horse, and you have to live the rest of your life in a barrel with wheels, knowing that you’ll never have a spawn of your own to push you around?’

And yes, that is a possibility. But I didn’t want to have a child. And I really, truly don’t think children should be born to people who don’t want them. There are already too many people here. It’s full. Have you been on the Tube? It’s awful. And also, when I think about that, I think about being forever haunted by butIMADEUPMAMIIIIND, I’MMMKEEPINMABABYYY, and I laugh. Thank you, universe.

So, to any other guilt-lackers out there, I’d like to impart some Practical Abortion Advice. I didn’t really have any because of the whole hush hush wink wink sin sin etc, and now that I’ve got through it, I’d like to share some stuff with every potential womb-ruiner who needs it.

1. Go to a specialised clinic, if you can, not a hospital. It’s still free. I know, right? I ended up having TWO abortion attempts (because of an admin error, not because of any last minute panic on my part) and first time around, I was sent to a massive hospital where the abortion centre was ON THE SAME WARD as the antenatal clinic. HEY, CAN WE GET SOME BABIES OVER HERE? It was only because of the amazing quick-thinking and patient persistence of the friends I took with me that I didn’t melt into a horrified grey puddle of ooze.

2. I had a medical abortion rather than a surgical one because I didn’t fancy the idea of being under anaesthetic. It hurts like absolute balls, but only for about half an hour. Also, I was phenomenally sick, and the entire bleeding process took about two and a half weeks in total. Your call. If I was to do it again (which I’m obviously gunning for), I would probably go surgical. But that’s just me. I’m a pansy.

3. So the medical abortion takes place over two days – you go in and you have the pre-abortion tablets (where the mites just do a general sweep of your womb for debris, look, I don’t know, I’m not a doctor), and then 24 hours later you go back and have the proper embryo-blasting stuff. You need to have someone drive you home. Do not get a taxi. Get someone to drive you home, and stay with you FOR THE REST OF THE DAY. Trust me on that one, and make sure it’s someone who can a) make you laugh and b) make you cheese on toast.

4. People will be shocked if and when you tell them. They will be shocked that you have told them. It is how we know to react to this news, from films and such. But, if they are kind, their first and most pressing objective will be to see if you are OK. And if you are, they will be too. They will relax. It will become a thing that is OK To Talk About, Actually. This is your body, it is your call. If you don’t want to tell anyone, fuck everyone. It’s your body. If – like me – you’re actually, fundamentally, really not that emotionally caught-up in the whole thing, I kind of think it’s important to talk about that too. Don’t feel pressured into jaccuzzing in your own non-existent guilt. No, of course we don’t want girls everywhere to think HEY, ABORTIONS ARE AWESOME NOW! They’re not. They hurt and they’re shit and they make you feel afraid and sick and stupid. But, for me at least, it wasn’t a moral wrench. So I’m not going to pretend like it was.

5. After you have had an abortion, you will greet every period like it’s the final shot of The Shawshank Redemption. A beautiful crimson hug. You will also be paranoid about birth control, probably for a long time. So will everyone who went through it with you. But frankly, there’s not a lot of harm in that.

‘I’m in trouuuble deep…’

Except I didn’t feel that way, not really. And to pretend otherwise would make me a hypocrite. To my friends, the people who helped me through this hot-topic medical procedure, thank you. Sorry it was a bit of a pain. To the woman in the blue coat, what you do comes from a place of true belief, and I understand that. But to those of us who draw strength from logic, from reason, from science, it’s not enough. I madeupmamiiiind, and, fundamentally, it’s none of your business.

34 thoughts on “The Funniest Thing About My Abortion

  1. My mum had an abortion in the 80′s and similarly felt no guilt. She looked at it the same way as you – like the flu-jab and the virus… although her way of expressing it was “like a tumour – a group of cells growing inside me that I don’t want there”. Which is a bit more grim, good to get the idea that you don’t have to feel guilty out there.

  2. I worked on an abortion ward as a student nurse and it was one of the most rewarding places i have ever worked. To see many women, not all though, in such emotional stress beforehand, making them laugh (and tea) during the proceedure, and seeing them genuinely relieved afterward. Very rewarding.
    Thanks for this.

  3. Yes to all of this. I aborted an unwanted pregnancy about 5 years ago, it was the right decision, it was my decision and I didn’t once regret it. Now I’m pregnant with a very much wanted baby, and once again, my womb, my decision. I will decide when the right time to have a tiny needy person gowing inside of me is thank you very much, and I refuse to feel guilt about making the decision 5 years ago that led to me being in the place where I am today.

    Also, yes to having a friend drive you home from hospital. I got a taxi – ugh – that’s not an experience I’d want to have to repeat.

  4. Ha, I had a pregnancy scare recently, and I too had no moral hangups– I was just annoyed about the potential *hassle*. Deciding to abort isn’t always harrowing, and I for one could do without the (patronizing or judgmental; take your pick) NHS Pregnancy Test Information page that offers two options:
    1.’continuing with the pregnancy’
    2.’if you’re not sure you want to be pregnant’.
    No uncertainty here; where’s the option to ‘KILL IT WITH FIRE’?

  5. Thank you for broaching this topic in such a sensitive way. Having had 2 abortions myself, I wanted to add a bit to the discussion by way of the weird grey areas I found myself in both times. In fact, myself and several friends who’ve been through the same all had similar experiences. What we all found ourselves talking about was this idea that we had to dichotomize our feelings into guilty or non, right or wrong, weak or strong, maternal or non, etc. We must know a little bit by now how destructive this thought process is to humans in general about anything, really. The second time, I found myself ripping my hair out trying to control that biological itch, which for me was monstrous, which wanted to keep that fetus and turn it into a baby at all costs. No one really talks about that, especially what that means for a person who generally runs on reason (though careless sometimes) and doesn’t want to have a baby materialize out of her vagina. The choice to abort contains a moral dilemma no matter what when it comes down to it, which I think there should be, and we should be talking about it, but not necessarily in terms of the church vs. science because, well, come on. Why I think the moral dilemma is in fact healthy is because it still gives credibility to what is beautiful. I’m not trying to get all NHSy, but babymaking is amazing and if we cut the emotions out of the process and just say it felt a little like a flu shot, don’t feel a thing now, I wonder what we’re doing to ourselves. But then I’m not trying to condemn anyone, really if you didn’t feel anything, then you didnt feel anything, but part of me doesn’t believe it possible. It’s way way easier to say there’s nothing there than actually face what might be lurking. And it’s kind of a life-changing experience no matter what the changes are. I did both, I denied myself the talking part the first time and thought I didn’t give a shit and then 6 months later, out of nowhere, my brain did this fucked up thing where it thought some lady’s baby was my own. And then it was all pent up emotions surging out for a year. or more. I think it was more. So why didn’t anyone tell me about that? Fuck the lady in blue, we don’t need to be told we’re wrong, we need to be told that this is a potentially messy and fucked up thing and it’s ok. It’s ok to be confused before and after and it’s also ok to do what (apparently a lot of women do) my friend did and adopt a cat right after, and it’s ok to feel nothing. But it’s doesn’t have to be either or. It can be all of it or none of it. It doesn’t make any of us better or worse for the choice. I hope this isn’t preachy. I struggled a bit to not sound like a twat, because the words for this discussion aren’t there. Mom never sat me down and explained the potential horrifying maternal-instinct-driven beast my body would become, against all rationale, when I had my second abortion. We need words for this that don’t make anyone feel like they belong to one of two polarized schools. I think it will make us all stronger when we find some of them.

  6. Thanks all of you for your comments – I wrote the article and it has been truly amazing to read your thoughts and support and insights. You’re all brilliant. I’m really really glad I wrote it.

    I absolutely agree that any and all reactions to the news of pregnancy are valid, and I would never, EVER say or think otherwise – it is an ENTIRELY personal experience, and should be treated as such. The point of my article (I hope), is not that we SHOULDN’T be bothered by the idea of abortions, just that there is a scale of how it affects us, and I think the vast majority of media and NHS literature casts the light of ‘this is a tragedy that you must get through, feeling no small amount of guilt or shame’. I think this is bullshit, and that we should be free to feel whatever the hell we’re feeling.

    Maybe I am unusual in having such an unemotional reaction to my procedure, but dammit, I am still normal. I am still a normal person, which means that there are other people out there who feel like me, and will draw strength from people like them saying ME TOO. YOU ARE NOT A MONSTER. YOU ARE COOL. WE ARE ALL COOL.

    Basically, I just think we should talk about abortions more, and talk about them without averting our eyes and feeling bad about it. I don’t feel bad. But I want to be there for people who are going through this, and might feel scared, or pressured, or confused. We don’t talk enough. And silence breeds fear.

    But anyway, thanks again for sharing your awesome experiences, and rad-cool brains. It’s been wonderful to read them.

    • Thankyou so much for this article. I just found out I am pregnant and am going through the procedure of having an abortion in the next coming weeks. This is quite strange experience for me as I don’t know how to feel and due to my early Catholic (sorry to say if I’m honest) upbringing I can’t help feeling like I SHOULD feel guilty , even though.. I don’t think I do? This article and the comments has made me realise I’m not some kind of monster… I am a person who realised, I am (only 18) not able or stable enough to bring someone else into this world. Thankyou! For not making me feel as a monster as so many others do.

  7. GREAT PIECE. Also, when I was in for mine, i had bay city rollers ‘ bye bye baby’. Just put on classical fm for crying out loud!

    I had a medical abortion a few years ago and the way I looked at it was ‘ This pill is just forcing my period out.’

    And well done for practical advice – I contemplated getting the tube home after my second pill – DONT DO THAT. Trust me on that one.

    • I’m not really sure how I feel right now… I appreciate your post greatly, however I’m a mother of three, but could have been four.

      My termination story (can’t personally call it an abortion out loud) is one of practicality.

      I already have there’s kids. Aged 11, 8 and 3. The oldest and youngest are both boys (and both accidental… And both missing really cool birthdates by one day! My daughter is the only sane one, if a total drama queen).

      For me to have a fourth child now would mean I would need a new car, a new house, a new job for me and my husband and the combat between my kids for attention.

      My oldest and middle both require braces at $7,000 each and they all do gymnastics, the older two competitively… There is no way on my (our) salaries that we would have been able to afford another child.

      I know all this, yet earlier this week when I had a medical top, I felt nothing but grief for the life that could have been. I loved my baby even if it was a clump if cells, it was mine/ours/the families.

      I wish I had had the option to choose different, but I am already thrice blessed, with a wonderful husband who stuck by me and loved me regardless (and has now booked himself in for a vasectomy as I wouldn’t be able to go through this a second time).

      I appreciate my kids more and love them more, but I don’t think I will ever get over terminating my fourth child, even if it was the right choice for me.

      I am now, and forever will be… Pro-choice!

  8. Thankyou so very much for sharing this with us. I love your writing – both humorous and hard-hitting. You are amazing.

  9. Thank you for an excellent essay, and for the readers’ comments.

    My experience was different in so many ways (which doesn’t make this a disagreement nor, I hope, a lecture): I was seventeen when I had the abortion. It wasn’t free (because I’m in the USA) and wasn’t medical (because I’m old enough that surgical was the only option).

    The more important differences: I did feel guilty, for a while, and I did –years later–want children. And it _did_ turn out to be my only chance: When I was married and wanted children, I did not conceive; recently, in perimenopause, I had a non-optional hysterectomy.

    But nevertheless, I don’t regret the abortion. I got over the guilt. I didn’t get over wanting children, but I learned to live with not having that “want” met. And this is what I wanted to say: If you’re sure that the abortion is the right decision for you, right now, you can ignore or at least out-argue the voice that says “this might be your only chance.” It might really be your only chance, and that might not matter all that much in the long run. Bearing a child at a time when that’s wrong for you would be worse, for you and probably for the child. It certainly would have been for me.

  10. I needed this right now. I’ve never ever felt any kind of guilt or shame over my abortion until just now when I was made to feel as though I should be ashamed. By coincidence, I stumbled upon this just a few minutes later. Thank you for reminding me that I have no need to be ashamed.

  11. Oh yeah, forgot to add: After my abortion, I was dumped in this crappy little room with WOODEN chairs (Yeah- we just shoved a hoover up your vagina and it feels like you’ve been ripped in two. Now sit on this hardwood chair without a cushion) and a TV showing CBBC. Don’t people screen these things?

  12. I had one about 10 or so years ago in another country & it was a breeze. Good drugs, a bit of hanging around at the hospital then home (picked up by a friend) where I lit the fire, put a video in the machine, opened up a box of chocs & chilled out on the sofa for the day, feeling relaxed, a bit woozy & relieved. And very grateful that it wasn’t made into a big fat drama for me by people who shouldn’t be sticking their noses into my business. Guilt? Not even for a second. I had an IUD which was because I didnt want children.

    These days, in the UK, they dont give you the drugs I believe. It may well be worth getting something from your GP first &/or necking a load of vodka first – or having a medical abortion. Or paying for better service. Getting an IUD in me was impossible without an anesthetic/vodka & thats a tiny little bit of plastic. An abortion without one? Impossible, surely?

  13. Thank you! It’s difficult to face something completely new when the only experience of this thing that you’ve ever seen is defined by tropes and after-school specials. It’s hard to know what to feel, and then you feel bad for not feeling the “right way.”

    In an odd twist of events, I scheduled my abortion the morning I drove with my mother (who did not know I was pregnant) for hours on end to go to a relative’s funeral. Seeing my relative propped up in a casket, meeting people I hadn’t seen since I was a toddler, knowing I was pregnant and getting an abortion in three days… it was so surreal. It almost felt like a movie plot, which, of course, is where we are told so much about how we feel are “supposed” to feel about abortions. I felt detached and confused.

    Have you ever gotten a large chunk of money for something very particular? Like you move some savings into your checking account with the express purpose to do something with it? And you go into a store and think “I could buy that. I could buy that. I could totally buy a ride-on tractor or a flat screen television. I have enough money.” You’re not going to, that would be stupid and you don’t actually want those things, but you _could_ do it if you wanted to. That’s sort of what being pregnant was like.

  14. I don’t usually post things this controversial and god knows I’ve definitely chose the wrong audience here. But I came across your magazine/website tonight and poked around through some of the stories. I loved the feminist vibe and was starting to feel at home here in the articles when I came across this one.

    And now I’m crying.

    I’ve had an unplanned pregnancy. I chose to keep my son. And he’s my world. But I had contemplated abortion while pregnant and found it to be a fleeting thought. Not one I gave much stock in. Just thinking about it literraly made me nauseaous.

    So I chose life. However I’ve always wondered how someone could justify abortion bc to me, it’s heinous. So I clicked here for some insight and read yor article.

    Some of it made my jaw drop like the fact that you, the author stated you felt no emotional attachment. I felt it very early and cannot comprehend being so cold.

    But I wasn’t moved to tears until I read through the comments.

    Congrats ladies. You have shook my faith in human decency and I’m now wondering if all women are heart wrenching monsters.

    As one commentir pointed out “kill it with fire”. Are you serious? It’s a baby. Your baby! And you want to burn it? I know this person didn’t mean to literally burn the child but kill it, definitely.

    And it rocked me so hard I teared up….and an fighting back tears now.

    My son is asleep on the couch right next to me. His little nose. His smell. His adoration and love for me knows no bounds and mine for him either. I think about everyone commenting here and the child you lost. Not just a mere clumping of cells. Not a parasite. A precious child with ten tiny fingers and toes. And one that will complete you in ways you’ve never even dreamed. Yet, you want to kill it? Just a bump in the road in your busy life huh? You have no second thoughts?

    I’m sorry. I just don’t understand. And it hurts me. Not for the women, but for the precious babies that weren’t wanted. I find consolation in at least the child isn’t with a mother who doesn’t want him/her. Maybe…if there is a heaven, they’re up there.

    Idk. I suppose my final summation is this: I thought I fit in here. I was wrong. I could never be ok with this. And as much as people in this world have jaded me, this post and commenters only added to my skeptiscm in human decency. And I wish I could take it back. I want to live in place where I can tell myself people like the ones I’ve found here don’t exist.

    But now I can’t.

    • I am sorry that you felt upset at the article, but when it comes down to it, it’s not your choice. If a woman chooses to have an abortion, it’s not your choice, and it doesn’t matter that you don’t like it. Abortion does not need to be ‘justified’, because it is a decision like any other. You censuring the women here, a place where they can express themselves openly on the subject, is insensitive and heartless. You are perpetuating the very sexist idea that women’s bodies and choices are somehow subject to public opinion.

      And no, they are not ‘killing their babies’. When one has an abortion, one is removing the fetus from her uterus. A fetus is not a baby. It does not know what’s happening, it is not sad, it is not afraid, it is not any of the things society tries to push onto women to guilt them into the behaviours that society wants. You have every right to disagree with the practise, to have meaningful and logical conversation about it and why you feel the way you do, but you do not have the right to try and make the women here feel bad about a decision which they made in their own best interests. Please try to see this from someone else’s point of view. You don’t need to like it; but please try to have some compassion.

    • For god’s sake lady, the world is chock a block with unwanted babies and I don’t see you out there adopting them so relax on the OMG you guys make me fear for humanity front. Yeesh.

      Imagine your kid in a foster home or an orphanage with no human contact other than a diaper change twice a day. Cry about that too while you’re busy sobbing for imaginary babies.

      You may wish to stop being shocked that a feminist website is pro-choice. It’s a waste of shock, really.

  15. I had two abortions 17 years ago.

    I’m now approaching the end of my breeding years and remain childless, but if I ever think about what my life would be like if I’d made a different decision, I feel sick with horror. It’s SO clear to me that I made the right choice.

    Just wanted to weigh in with another voice to counteract the ‘you’ll regret it later’ story so widely pedalled by the anti-choice movement. I’m sure some women do regret it, but clearly from the comments above, not all of us by any means!

  16. Had a surgical one many years ago — wasn’t my only chance — recently had a full hysterectomy. I don’t regret ANYTHING about the abortion (other than who I let stick it in me to get me pregnant in the first place, augh) and while in occasionally flights of fancy, I play the ‘what if’ game, I don’t ever really freak out about it.

    I used to feel guilt that I didn’t feel guilty (how ridic is that?) but I managed to get over that — I’m not ashamed. It was no big. It was less of a pain and freakout than getting my wisdom teeth done! Hooray for abortions, frankly!

  17. I love you for this.

    Also, I think they have some guilt tripping radio going on. For me it was ‘(Good Riddance) Time of your life’ not even the green day version, but a country one.

    ‘Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road…’


  18. Thank you for this beautiful piece of writing! I fell pregnant five years ago to a man that I despised at a time in my life when I had nothing. I lived in his house and only knew his friends. Within an hour of peeing on the stick I was at the doctors shouting “get this thing out of me”. I was terrified and disgusted, with it and with myself.
    I told him I was pregnant. He said “oh. What are we going to do”. But I didn’t feel like a “we”. It was just me. My mind, my body, my choice.
    taking the pre abortion pills didn’t elicit any emotional response. I went alone for this.
    he came with me for the gruesome part. He sat in silence. I vomited, I shat myself. I felt as though the very core of me was being scratched and ripped from inside me in violent bile filled waves. I felt alone and scared and he didn’t say a word. Eventually, I felt the need to push. The nurse shoved me in a dark bathroom, sat me on a commode and said “give us a shout when you’re done”. I sat there, pushed and with a sudden, slippy “thwopp”, it all ended. The pain and the heartache were gone. I looked at what had come out of me; a huge blob of blackcurrant jelly and a little pink shrimp with one black glazed eye. I said goodbye, I said I was sorry, but I wasn’t.
    We got the bus home, he said a taxi was a waste of money and the relationship was over before I’d even finished bleeding.

    My abortion was physically agonising. But the decision I made was not. If I could go back, I’d do it all again, but I’d have do it alone.

  19. Clicked through to this article from a Facebook link. Not because I’m pregnant or have had an abortion but just as you do, following Facebook links.

    This is just such an amazingly well-written and thoughtful article (and obv really funny too). Even though I’m not pregs and hope I never will be when I don’t want to be if you see what I mean, I still wish we were friends because wow do you have your head screwed on. Oh look and this is why I’m not a writer because I just sound like a creepy stalker but what I’m trying to say is, thank you for this little nugget of sanity amidst all the crap that is usually out there on this topic. Am gonna subscribe to this site just because of how brilliant this article was. Go you!

  20. I had five. One miscarriage 2 live births. Abusive husbands made the choice easy. Failed birth control. I would do it again if I had to. I feel no guilt no shame. The shame would be to bring a child into the world in
    An abusive home. We are all safe now. Thank god.

  21. Okay so, I’m nearly 24. I’ve only had one sexual partner which I strangely prided myself on. We broke up because I found out he had been seeing someone behind my back. Anyway, I went to college after and I met a guy who is a couple of years younger than me even though my previous partner had been 8 years older. I’ve been brought up amazingly, I can’t explain the love and devotion my mum and dad have given me. So all my friends sleep about etc and I’m never ever short of guys wanting to take me out but it takes more than that for me I need a real connection. So this guy @ college became my best friend and on a stupid drunken night where I was REALLY DRUNK, we ended up having sex and I unfortunately became pregnant. We used contraception and it burst AND I took the morning after pill and still it happened. I feel devastated but not because of the situation I was going to make but because I had now slept with this second person and ended up in this stupid scenario … I felt ashamed and like my mum and dad would be so disappointed because in terms of love they have given everything the have got. Now I’ve had my first pill as part of the termination and I’m due in tomorrow to get the second. I’ve started bleeding and I feel really upset, the guy from college has came to all the appointments with me but never asks if I’m okay over text which annoys me? Should it not? Should I just be like FUCK it? It happened what can I do? I don’t feel maternal or unsure I just feel angry at myself, angry at him and angry at the situation. Scared he won’t show on the day I need him most. It makes it worse because we are both at college together and I feel I want him to leave. Anyone got any advice or pep talks on my situation? I guess I kind of also want to know that you don’t always feel like a bad shameful person and that I still have the right to enjoy my life and not feel I don’t have the right to believe I am this good person I’ve always believed I am. I’d help anyone in need, I feel so stupid and regretful right now.

  22. Thank you so much for making me laugh at a time when all I can do is cry! I had an abortion two years ago after a one night stand gone wrong. The song that was playing as I was being wheeled into surgery was Lisa Stansfield.. been around the world and I I I I can’t find my baby! You’ve got to laugh! It turned out to be quite ironic as 3 months later I did indeed fly half way around the world to get back with my ex. We are struggling with fertility and of course I feel like it is my karma. Sometimes I feel bitterly sad and regretful. Other days I am joyously glad and thankful. But not a day goes by when I don’t think about it. Being able to talk openly and honestly about this subject is a gift but being able to laugh about it is incredibly healing. And for that I am very grateful indeed.

  23. Hi there, I don’t know why my pictute has come up! Is there any way you can delete it ot just delete my comment. Fuck sake! ! Sorry

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>