At 21 my doctor warned me I may never be able to conceive. I have never wanted anything more in life than to be a mom. I fell apart-- just lost it. Once I put myself back together, I prayed. I prayed every day that one day I would have a baby.
Unexpectedly and very untimely I found myself pregnant just two years after I had been told it may never happen for me. This was not the best timing for me to find myself with answered prayers. I was dating a younger guy and neither of us would finish college for another six months. I knew I could leave him and school and return home to raise the baby. I was well aware I could raise this baby on my own and that my family would be supportive of my decision.
What I was unable to do was leave him. If I stayed and kept the baby it would ruin his life. If I kept the baby, it meant leaving him... I loved him, but I knew I already loved this baby. I felt trapped.
I told him of my pregnancy and he was in full support of my terminating the pregnancy. In fact, he never even discussed other options. I tried to, but kept being told the timing was wrong. I knew I could not tell my mother of my situation, as I knew she would convince me to make MY OWN DECISION. So I was left with my boyfriend, my doctor, and my best friend knowing of my situation. Both my best friend and doctor begged me to consider every option - knowing me well enough to know what I truly wanted -- but supporting me no matter what.
I went for tests two days before the procedure-- after the sonogram I went into the bathroom in the clinic, curled up on the floor and silently sobbed. The night before I prayed to god, again, this time asking him to take me with the baby. The next morning I went to my boyfriend and asked one last time if this was really the right thing to do-- he said yes.
The physical and emotional pain of that day are literally indescribable. I am unable to even type out the experience. I kept wanting to scream - STOP! STOP! DON’T!!! But nothing came out. They rushed me out of the procedure room so fast I vomited. The next few months were miserable and filled with regret. My prayers to god were no longer for a child but for forgiveness and death.
I finally sought counseling upon the insistence of my boyfriend. While I began to resume everyday life, I was still filled with regret and sadness. At the back of my mind my due date -- the mountain I faced haunted me. Not a day went by that I did not think of my decision. After I graduated I stopped counseling and moved to another state. Almost immediately I could feel myself slipping...
The final straw cam when my boyfriend broke up with me. It was not the break up that affected me as much as the broken promise of, "I will always be there for you-even if we break up."
Here I was alone, I had locked myself in the bathroom. I was sitting on the floor with cell phone in one hand and a bottle of Xanex in the other. It was too much. I refused to wake up the next day. I took the entire bottle of medication.
I awoke on Aug.28th poetically enough in a hospital bed. Tubes and IVs ran here and there, but the most noticeable feature was my right arm and left leg fastened to the bed. I was grilled by psychiatrist after psychiatrist. I was told I could not leave the hospital-under constant supervision. Next was the unbearable task of telling my mother why she had received a call from the hospital that her daughter had tried to kill herself. I told her everything...
My mother had to fly to where I was in order for me to be released into her care. My life had truly become a nightmare-with all of my worst fears played out. I hurt my family and friends in a way I never thought possible. They made it very clear to me just how much I mean to them -- that experience alone gave me reason to live.