to sophie.

you and i
were never meant to be

i am so sorry
more for you, than for me

i hope that someday, you can forgive me
and somehow, i can forgive myself

for now all i can say, or be, is sorry

Last night John came home in a bad mood, and went off on me because dinner wasn't on the table.
A miscommunication, i had mentioned I was feeling better and would make dinner and he thought that meant by the time he got home. right. and this is 1950.

we got into a huge argument and he left to go walk around the block- something our therapist suggested.

i went to go pick up the pizza i was having for dinner, alone. sigh.

he came back and we talked and it was a big miscommunication coupled with a lot of expectations.
when he gets angry he makes stabs at the fact that i don't have a job, which really hurts. i have two really good prospects and in the mean time am paying my part of the bills with unemployment.

we went to bed after discussing it calmly, like adults. it's things like this that remind me why having a child might not have been such a good idea. i could just see him coming home from a long day at work, me there still after a long day with a child, and him making comments about me having no job or not contributing enough.

the path to recovery

I am feeling so much better.
the pain is only lingering memory and reminder every once in awhile not to over-do it

this must be what it feels like when they perform the abortion and get it all out the first time, mild cramps and barely any bleeding.

It's only been a few days and I've had so many ups and downs i'm still a bit nervous that i may have a bleed or the cramps may come back strong. I am so anxious to be better.

I am hoping to be better by new years, we have friends visiting and are going to a club in times square.

christmas was such a wash, i just want to have a good new years so i can forget it.

John and i went to counseling the other day. It was a promise we made to each other when we reconciled and moved back in together, our therapist is wonderful at getting to the root of a problem and asking simple questions that we'd never even think to ask each other, like "what did you need from her when you were feeling that way?"
She pointed out that it seems like John really cares about me.
I know that in my heart but it felt wonderful to hear from a professional.
We talked a little about the abortion and I cried, tears came to JOhns eyes as he told her sometimes he regrets it.
She pointed out that I need him to talk to me about it, and i agreed.
it feels good to know he is here, and even better when we talk about it.
we're going through this together, and even though i wish it had never happened, i am thankful that we have each other.

I woke up yesterday morning and immeditely threw up, then I had chills, horrible chills. I took some medicine and went back to bed, bundled up in a couple of layers of clothes and a down blanket. My apartment is the kind where you cant control the heat, its usually a sweat shop.
i knew something was really wrong.
so i called my mom, because at times like this, she has always known best!
we booked a train ticket for me to go back home, to go back to the hospital where I had the wonderful OB care two weeks ago.

I packed the smallest suitcase I could, and barely made it back on the train.
I was in pain, I had to lift and walk, and I was traveling during the Christmas/Holiday rush.
Not fun, really.

I spent the entire night in the hospital.
First the midwife comes in, and wants to examine me.
We had to fight with her a bit to explain that THREE doctors had already done so and said I felt perfectly alright. and that it was HORRIBLY PAINFUL for me on top of that.
After conversing with the OB on call, and after much pressure from my mom and I, they decided to (FINALLY) do an ultrasound. They didnt want to give me anything by mouth though (and you need a full bladder to see everything the regular way) so they wanted to do an inter-vaginal ultrasound. Ouch I thought. The nurse took blood to be sure I was still pregnant (which I was) and that I wasnt showing signg of infection (which i wasnt thanks to the antibiotics) it took her two tries and the first one felt like she hit a nerve and required ice for an hour to calm it down. i was not happy.

I am wheeled down to ultrasound in a wheelchair by a nice guy about my age, who kept my mind off of the impending inter vaginal thing by telling me his hospital story of mono.
At this point I'd rather have mono. I am sick of being poked and prodded and touched and of people making my uterus even more unhappy then telling me i'm fine.

The ultra sound woman was very nice. i had to explain my situation (they we pissed my bladder wasnt full and no one told them why) they wanted me empty in case they had to operate.
My biggest fear.

It turns out, I find out as she is pressing the cold object on my right ovary, that she had an abortion when she was 17. She now has a husband, a great job and two young kids. It made me feel better to know that people get through this and live happy lives. It made me feel worse when she pushed on the cyst that had been causing a lot of my pain. She was able to get all of the pictures she needed without going vaginal. Thank god for her kindness and compassion and understanding. At times like these you need it the most, and I wasnt getting it from the nurse and midwife where I had just come from. They wanted to examine me, tell me I was fine and send me home. I wanted visual proof there was nothing left inside of me because this was NOT going away as it should.

I am wheeled back to the room I had started out in, and the nurse looks at the report and takes my vitals again. They haven't told me yet, but it's at that moment I know I am going in for surgery. I wait about 10 minutes for the midwife to let the OB know the results and she comes in to tell me I am going to have a D&C, there was tissue left inside my uterus.

I am left alone in the room with my mom to wait while they arrange for the surgery. One doctor, one resident, one nurse in the operating room, two anesthieologists, and two recovery nurses.

I lay on the table shaking and crying. I know what its like to awaken from this. It hurts, and last time they didnt care. I cried out in pain, and they ignored me. I couldnt go through that again.

The doctors both come to meet with me before surgery. I wont let them examine me first, and i try to tell them i need to be reassured they will not allow me to suffer. when they dont listen to me my mom chimes in, and is chastised. one of the doctors wont listen to anything until he takes me to pre-op and puts an iv in me.

i am taken to pre op where they begin trying to insert the iv. i make them promise to put veresed in right away, to relax me, i've been through hours without pain meds and poked many times by a nurse who didnt know what she was doing. i couldnt take it anymore, knock me out already!

fifteen minutes and two shots of novicaine later we have an iv, in my arm. and versed. thank god. they wheel me into the actual operating room and put me on the table. my arms go out to my sides, my head goes back and an oxygen mask goes over my face. there are no stirrups, no trash can. i am silently thankful.

I wake up in a comfortable bed with two nurses staring at me. one of the anesthtiologists is walking around too. i cry out in pain and the shoot me up with fentonil, which does absolutely nothing to touch the cramps i am having. two more shots later and i am still crying in extreme pain. the nurses look at each other in awe, and get me two percocets. they put a warm blanket on my stomach and check my pad. In about 40 minutes all of the medicine has kicked in and my pain had gone from 12 (on a scale of 1-10) to a 4. I am ready to be wheeled upstairs.

They take me to a regular hospital room, where I see my mom and lay for a bit. I beg for the iv to come out, i cant stand needles in my arm. as soon as i can pee, i can go home. It is now 3.30 a,m. i pee, they take out the iv, and i walk out of the hospital.

I spent the next four days on my moms couch. i didnt leave her house until christmas day eve, we went and had chinese at the only place that was open. I spent christmas without anyone but my mom, and didnt celebrate at all. but i knew inside that this operation had taken care of it.
i prayed.

I was so stressed tonite because John came home and just laid on the couch after work. I know I am home all day "doing nothing" but when you are this sick and recovering you cant do much else, and you arent supposed to be trying, you're supposed to let your body heal.

i realized that we had rented movies and they were really late. I asked John to please walk them to the movie place since I honestly didnt feel up to it. He kept saying he would then fell asleep. He works a very physical job so i understand that he's tired, but the movies laying there costing us money was getting on my nerves. I took them there myself, walking faster than usual because it was colder than usual tonight and I was freezing.

I got back home, and had to pee. i went into the bathroom and as I peed I had a huge, painful cramp that reminded me of when I had first come out of the operating room. I continued to cramp and bleed (filling pads quickly, gushing blood, clotting) it was gross and extremely painful.
Was this the antibiotic getting rid of it finally? Or was my worst fear coming true... was there still tissue left inside of me?

Well I have been feeling a bit better, I can go out and do one thing per day and I seem to be alright, although I am very very tired afterwards and usually end up on the couch with a heating pad half asleep afterwards. Its hard just to go down the street and get a half gallon of milk. At times it feels as though someone has poked a sharp metal object up the right side of my uterus. I can FEEL it inside. Sometime I wonder if its mental. My mom keeps telling me that the mind can torture the body if you have bad feelings pent up. I have been trying to feel my feelings, to let go and forgive myself. John admitted last night that he has been having nightmares about me on the operating table, with a lot of blood. Or his baby in the room all bloody. He was crying when he told me this. I am thankful that he has been here, has been very supportive and really cares about me. It is hard to hear him say he wishes we could have kept the baby. It's even harder to hear him say that sometimes he regrets it.

I saw the doctor today, I had another physical exam. It was excruciating.
My OB feels that since I was as far along as I was, and I am still after all this time in so much pain, I should start antibiotics. Maybe this will finally get rid of the pain and I can go on with life.
I am now on Dioxycycline for 10 days.

The pain and bleeding haven't subsided. It has now been 12 days. I have not left my couch except to go to the doctors, which is not helping with the depression i feel lately. i miss living life. it is the holiday season and i have to keep declining invites because i cant walk and i'm in so much physical pain. not to mention i am just feeling so down i dont have any holiday spirit right now.
i'm trying, but it's real, real hard.

I see my regular doctor tomorrow. I hope it goes well I want this to be over with.

it's not getting any better

the pain and cramping are worse, and it's been a week. nervously I call planned parenthood, and they tell me I should come in right away. there is no way i can go back there, no way i even want anyone to touch me let alone anyone from there. i just dont feel comfortable with it.

so i take the train back home, and go to the emergency room with my mom and John. Turns out they dont have an Ob Gyn on call so they send me to another one, but this time I dont have to wait to be seen.

I am taken right into a room normally used for delivery. the nurse and doctor are really nice and listen to my story of felling scared to be touched again and that I am literally in so much pain that i cant be touched. they give me some pain medicine and let it kick in before they do the exam. A half hour later the doctor is moving around my angry uterus and poking my cervix and i am screaming and crying in pain.

"It feels alright" she tells me. I am sent home with some pain medicine and orders to check in with my regular OB in a week.

I went through with it.

We arrived at the clinic at 8am, and the entire waiting room was full of girls wting for abortions!
i couldnt believe it. I was so nervous i was shaking. after at least an hour, i was called into another waiting room where they put a hospital bracelet on me, took my insurance info, and sent me upstairs.

I had no idea what was going to happen next, because they dont really tell you. i waited in a room filling out paperwork, a tv in the background playing aids education videos over and over again.
They call me into a room and take my blood. I hate having my blood taken and had no idea it was coming. the doctor barely speaks english and after he takes the needle out, i ask him to stop touching my arm. (it makes me want to punch people for some reason) he misunderstands and keeps touching it.

The next room is worse. A russian or ukranian woman who is going to do my first ultrasound. She pushes so hard it gives me cramps. her face hides nothing as she is shocked at how far along i am. when i ask how many weeks, she snidely replies that a counselor will tell me that shortly.

i go back out to the waiting room, and wait. the waiting is killing me. i have been here for at least three hours now. I know i am father along than most of the women there. from looking online i had promised myself, 13 weeks and i am keeping the baby. i sat there. i waited, and finally a large black woman (my counselor) calls my name.

A tense elevator ride later and we are in a tiny windowless room. She tells me i am 12 weeks 3 days. even though i had already thought this was possible, its not what i wanted to hear. i ask to look at the ultrasound. "you're only making this worse you know" she replies, as she takes her cell phone out of her pocket, answers it, and starts yelling at her child about a bad report card. I sit and cry, shaking uncontrollably again. I don't want to do this. i want to run out of this horrible place, run away with my baby. I have John and my mom called into the room. I show them the ultrasound and tell them how far along i am. My eyes search Johns for something, anything that will tell me not to do this, he'll be here for me. Instead he reassures me that everything will be alright.

I inform my "counselor" that I am continuing with the procedure, and head back up the elevator, a lamb to the slaughter.

They send me into a bathroom to change.
I look at myself in the mirror. who am i? how can i do this? and another part of me says, you have to. i change into my gown and join the other girls. there are 12 of us and most had been waiting for over an hour. Its almost 2pm now. a nurse comes in to inform us that theyu recovery room (which i can see by craning m y neck around the corner) is full so they sent the doctors to lunch. We sit and wait at least another hour and a half. I have been here since 8 in the morning, had nothing to eat or drink since 10pm the night before, and i am starving, parched, nervous and want to get this over with. what is taking so long?

then they start calling names. I thought i was somewhere near number 10 but it turns out i was third. stunned, a deer in headlights, i walk down the short hall to the operating room. the put my on a table where i slide down all the way to the end, and my legs go up in the biggest stirrups i've ever seen. a large trash can is wheeled over just below my butt. That's where my baby is going. i think. thoughts of John rushing in the room telling me not to do this fill my mind. i want to get up and run, but i'm almost there, i'm almost done. the anesthietiologist puts the iv in my arm, which hurts a lot. the doctor comes in, holds my hand and asks if i have any questions, to which i shake my head no. i am silent. i am so scared. as the medicine starts to flow through my veins to knock me out, i promise myself one thing, never again will i do this.

i wake up from what seems like a nice sleep into the reality of a nightmare. the recovery room is a row of chairs where you sit with a pad in between your legs and cry in pain while they take your vitals. you cant have anything for the pain (which is supposed to be just mild cramping) until you are vital enough to get up and walk to the next room. my pain is so bad it is as though someone stuck an ice pick up my uterus. every time i attempt to put my bottom onto the chair i shoot back up in pain. i realize i am white knuckling the arms of the chair, and cry out for help. the nurses are overwhelmed and offer little. one proclaims that she "just cant deal with this"

a girl is wheeled out and woken up. i recognize her from the waiting room. she is screaming and crying that she is selfish, and that she is going to hell.

that's when i look down and notice i have no pad, and am gushing blood onto the chair.

i do everything i can to get to the next room so i can have some pain relief. they remove my i.v. i have to keep reminding the nurses that i am next for my shots, of which they stab me with two and then walk away. i have to wait until a bath room is empty and then walk there to get dressed. the pain is immesurable. i have never felt anything this bad. some of the girls are walking around as if nothing happened, but i am not doing so well.
in the bathroom trying to get dressed a gush of blood fills my thick pad in an instant.
i ask the nurse if this is normal and she looks worried, and goes along her way.

in the next room i am handed a cup with two antibiotics and Some motrin
an ice pick through the uterus and they give me motrin!
get me out of this torture chamber i think, as i text John to call the car service

the entire way home, i grip his hand over each bump, each turn, and cannot put my butt onto the seat of the car. at home they have to lower me onto the couch, and i scream in agony with each cramp. this is nothing like they say it will be in the pamphlets. although i was a bit farther along than the other girls.

one thing i have learned the hard way is this:
if you're going to do it, find a place that is reputable, safe, and able to take care of you afterwards. no one should have to be in that much pain and be ignored, or told that ibuprofen will take care of it. no one should feel as though they are on an assembly line when they are going through something that is already so emotionally and physically hard to deal with.
no one should go to planned parenthood on a saturday. just because you "have an appointment" does not mean you are going to receive the kind of care you may need. I was there from 8am until almost 5pm, and would have been much less traumatized by the whole event had i gone somewhere a little less busy, and a little more caring for the individual.

a letter to my baby, the night before

I have barely slept. My mom is here and John and her are both fast asleep. It is the evening before the abortion. I am crying so hard I can barely see, after I laid for awhile on the bathroom floor, shaking and crying, I got up and went to the computer. I had to say goodbye. I feel as though someone has reached in and wripped my heart out of my chest. I am an asshole.

Dear sophie,

there are some things that i need to tell you before you go.

Just thinking about you leaving me is tearing me apart, but i cannot imagine how you could possibly stay.

I never thought i could feel pain in my heart as i do now, i can feel it breaking to pieces

and yet i have never and will never see your face.

I cant tell you how many times i have wished for you, for happy times through all of the stages that come with new life, i hoped so long for this to happen to me, just at a different time in my life and under different circumstances.

now you are here, and the timing could not possibly be worse.

If there was one way, one way that i could even imagine being able to feed you, clothe you, and put a roof over your head i would be able to find the strength to carry on with you. But I cant, my mind cannot come up with one creative idea this time, i cannot even think of one way that you and i would make it, in reality. We could run away together, live off of welfare and hope for the best. But is that really good enough? I want better for you.

Is it better to subject you to an unstable life of poverty or to end things where they are now? Is it really fair to give you away so that you can wonder why your parents didnt want you? I know first hand there is no pain worse in this world than knowing that your parent didnt want you. I have asked myself many times why i was even brought into this world. I cannot risk doing that to someone else.

I want you to know that I am sorry that I am not strong enough, creative enough or responsible enough to keep you. I want you to know that I wish more than anything in the world that i could give you a good life. I want you to know that this is the hardest thing i have gone through in my 25 years on this earth. My heart hurts more today than it did when my father took his life.

even thought this is a hard decision to make, even though i have been torn to pieces trying to make one, i have always enjoyed having you here. i am going to miss knowing that you are there, growing inside of me. Tomorrow there will be a huge piece of my soul that goes with you. There will be pain in my heart every time i am reminded of the fact that you were once there, a part of me. I thought of you in the grocery store today, walking down the isle strolling past the crackers and realizing i wont need snacks anymore since you wont be here, with me, needing nourishment. I touch my belly now and then and wonder if you're okay, if you're a boy or a girl, what you look like now. I picture you a newborn, at 6 months, 4 years. I saw a woman with her daughter on the train and she was cute, so cute i imagined she could have been you. normally this would make me smile but instead my heart just broke more, if that is still even possible. Since i'm being honest here i actually wished for a moment i had fallen in front of the train i just mentioned.

In my wildest dreams, your father wants you, too. We live in a home where we know we are secure, and one of us has a job that can pay the bills. We both watch my belly grow and enjoy every moment, happily awaiting your arrival. We put together a nursery and i even endure a baby shower so that you can have all the things that babies nowadays need. We are happy, we are hopeful. You arrive and we are scared and nervous but we've got each other and things work out, through good and bad. We watch you grow and develop with pride and do the best we can to guide you.

I wish dreams really came true. I wish i had more faith in myself and in others. I wish i was more responsible. In reality, i feel like i have no other choice. If i continue to carry you inside me, i will become attached and you will be stuck with an unfit mother, out of my own selfishness and love. I dont know what else to do. There is no right answer here. I hate myself more and more with each passing moment.

I suppose most of all, i want you to know that even though your little heart will no longer be beating in 7 hours, that you were loved, and i am sorry, more sorry than i can ever express in words or on paper.

I am going to miss you, i am going to think of you often, wonder what you would have been like, if things would have worked out had i been stronger. I am going to feel guilty. I am going to mourn your loss. A part of me shall always wish there were some other way. I am sorrier that you can ever know. I pray that you feel no pain and are completely unaware of what i am doing to you. I pray that you can forgive me and I can forgive myself.

I made a doctors appointment today and then cancelled it.

"Will you be carrying out the pregnancy with the doctor?" the receptionist asked.

I realized I was calling the wrong place. They only wanted to see me if I wanted to have a healthy baby, a pregnancy. Not an abortion.

John and I had been talking and talking and could not think of any other way.

I have been crying myself to sleep , if i even do sleep, and I cry a lot during the day now.

This afternoon I was laying on my bed, dozing since I have been getting tired in the afternoons lately, and I realized that I needed to call Planned Parenthood. I probably didn't have much time.

I had plugged my last period date into an online due date calculator, and it seems like I may be further along than I had thought, or hoped. Congratulations! it said, you are 12 weeks. Your due date is June 12th! The tears flowed as I read this. This was supposed to be a happy time.
People we supposed to be happy about this baby, and they just weren't. It ripped my heart out.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This isn't how things are supposed to turn out in my life.

I made the call and they scheduled me for Saturday! Three days and I would no longer have her inside of me, it was too soon, but I knew in my heart i had no more time.