I Was Excited to Be Pregnant, but I Still Chose to Have an Abortion

This article is part of POPSUGAR's 50 States, 50 Abortions, a large-scale storytelling project that aims to elevate the voices of people who've had abortions. For more information about how to find an abortion clinic near you, please visit The Cut's abortion service finder.

I can't remember if it was 2003 or 2004, but I was in my early 30s. We were in Providence, RI. My current husband actually was my boyfriend then, but we had only been seeing each other for about six months. We had each had some pretty traumatic breakups not too long before we started dating. When I found out I was pregnant, it was exciting, because I was already in my early 30s and had always wished for children. It was my first time being pregnant, and I was excited. I was like, "Oh my gosh, my body can do this." But then my second thought was, "Oh, it's too bad I can't keep it." It's just that we were so new, or what felt like new. It still felt like we didn't know how committed we were at that point, so it didn't seem like a smart move. He was in school, and I was working two or three jobs to support myself, so it didn't feel like the right time at all.

When I discussed it with him, he didn't have any objections. I had been to Planned Parenthood before for yearlies, so I was familiar with the place. It wasn't far from us. I could have taken a bus or walked if I needed to, but it was wintertime, so a friend picked me up and gave me a ride.

We had gone skiing the weekend before my first appointment was scheduled. It was in New Hampshire, and I had a terrible accident on the slopes and was at the ER. They couldn't give me an X-ray to let me know what was wrong because I was pregnant, even though I told them that I had an appointment [for an abortion] the next week.

At the first appointment, they verified that I was pregnant. I have been taking care of babies and children since I was 14 years old, when my older sisters started having children. I went to school for early-childhood education. I was a nanny; my whole life was working with kids. So I knew that for me, this was going to be . . . It was a heart-wrenching decision, even though I knew it was the right decision.

The day of the procedure, my boyfriend — my now-husband — had come with me, and I made sure that he came with me, because it involved both of us. I remember the parking lot was across the street, and for years, I had driven by the building and seen protesters outside. But I had never seen anyone actually being walked into the clinic, so I didn't really know how aggressive the protesters could be. When we were getting out of the car, escorts came to the car, and that was surprising in itself. My then-boyfriend and I were like, "No, we can handle this, we're OK. We've got this, we'll walk right through them." We were feeling like, nothing's going to bother us. We won't let them bother us. But then they said, "Well, we're going to come with you just in case."

And it was way more than I had ever expected. I mean, the protesters were yelling and they were shoving pictures in our faces and just saying all of this stuff about going to hell. It was horrible; it was just plain horrible. I was really glad that they were sheltering us. There was one on either side of us, and I'm very grateful for that.

During the procedure — you don't have any idea what it's actually like, and there's so much controversy around it and discussion, and everyone's giving you these moral implications about doing this. I think the expectations are so high that it's going to be the worst thing that's ever happened to you. When I was going through the procedure, it was so simple and quick and easy and relatively pain-free, and there was barely any recovery time. I remember saying afterward, "Did that really happen today?"

The thing that I didn't like about it was that after the procedure, they brought us into the recovery room, but it wasn't solitary; it was communal. There had to have been at least a dozen of us in the room, and the chairs were like hospital beds, the kind that are recliners, all in a circle. There were so many people who were much younger than I was. I may have been one of the oldest people in the room.

If I had to do it again, I would, and it would be a completely different experience because I understand it is less a moral decision than a practical one.

Afterward, I had enough friends I could speak to. I was going to a Unitarian Universalist church, and so there were people there who I was able to talk with, and they were very understanding and accepting, so I had a good support system.

I didn't speak with family, though. Actually, the day [of my follow-up] appointment, I stopped on the way to visit my sister. She asked what I was going for, and I told her I'd had a miscarriage. I said they had to check to make sure everything was clear.

So I lied, because they're Catholic and I didn't know at the time whether or not she would've been supportive. I wasn't sure of her views. I mean, she had daughters and they were young at that point, so she wouldn't have had to contemplate those issues just yet. They weren't teenagers yet or anything.

I have never had a conversation with my three older sisters about the abortion. We're not extremely close, especially with me being the only one not living close by. But I think that it wouldn't be as terrible a conversation as I imagined it could have been back then. They all have adult daughters and sons, so I can't imagine the issue hasn't come up with either their own children or their children's friends.

I still think [the abortion] was the right decision, and I'm glad that we didn't have that added burden to our emotional relationship, to our work life and school life, and all of everything that was going on.

When it was over, I did tell my husband, "I'm never doing that again. So if we get pregnant again, we're just going to have the baby." Because I just didn't like the experience. I didn't appreciate the fact that there was just a lot of emotional turmoil around it, even though I was still grateful that it was an option. It's hard to explain.

Today, my husband and I have an amazing 10-year-old son. Abortion was never an option when I got pregnant, not because of the first time I was pregnant, but just because even though it wasn't planned, we were ready. Well, not financially or anything like that, but we knew we would love having that baby in our lives and making a bigger family together.

If I had to do it again, I would, and it would be a completely different experience because I understand it is less a moral decision than a practical one. But at the time, it almost felt like it was too easy and too simple given everything that surrounded it — all of the emotions that surround it are confusing.

It took years for my husband to tell me how much he regretted it, and I had no idea. Definitely, more open communication there would've been nice.

[For anyone who is considering or preparing for an abortion], I would suggest asking older people around them whether or not they've had abortions and asking for their stories. I hadn't heard enough stories in my youth. I've read about them, but it's different, hearing from people. They'll know more about what the experience actually is like. And I think that it would help them to have a better understanding and make a better decision and go into it prepared. As simple a procedure as it is, we need to tell people that without having it surrounded with all this BS.

[As for the overturning of Roe], I think it's a disaster for so many more reasons than just losing our right to an abortion by choice. There's also the implications of not having access to medications that are also used for other illnesses and diseases and of doctors having to speak with lawyers before they make a decision. I mean, there are just way too many downsides to this. It's cruel. It's putting people's health in danger. It's just cruel and it's dangerous.

There's a great essay by Mona Eltahawy with this quote — it's basically something like, "People you know have had abortions, even if they haven't yet told you." That just sticks with me.

Jill (she/her) (Rhode Island), as told to Eden Arielle Gordon

Image Sources For "Click For Stories From Each State": Unsplash / Aaron Burden, Getty / Sergii Iaremenko/Science Photo Library, Unsplash / Manik Roy and Photo Illustration: Patricia O'Connor