annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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Terminating terminally

Today it has been my beloved younger daughter's birthday. We have feasted upon homemade meatballs with chip-shop chips, followed by the best sponge cake I've baked in years, dripping with raspberry jam and whipped cream. 


But it's also a day where it seems the right to an abortion is going to be curtailed in the US so I want to write about that. Regular readers will be in no doubt about the love I have for my children. My blessed prodigal son, my darling younger daughter and precious Sam, my first born who died in 2019. I'm going to write about the abortions I have had and it seems I need to preface them with this statement to ensure it's understood that I'm not actually against children. I remember when someone who had been active in the US pro-choice movement was pregnant and some anti-abortionists were beside themselves with fury at the hypocrisy of the woman not having an abortion. I wouldn't like to think anyone that stupid reads this, but you never know, do you? 


So. I have been pregnant eight times in all. Miscarriage, miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, Sam, abortion, Daughter, Son, abortion. 


I was recklessly promiscuous in my late teens and early twenties and the only surprise is that I didn't get pregnant more often, but I didn't, until finally I did, aged 21, I think. It dawned on me that I hadn't had a period for a while, so I did a test and there it was, positive. I had no idea who the father would be - there were a few possibilities. This was ghastly. I panicked. But then, a very few days later, in the bathroom of a friend, I miscarried - massive clots over a couple of hours, followed by heavier than a normal period bleeding and a negative test. Whew. I didn't learn a thing from this though, as in no time it happened again. Only a choice of two possible fathers, and I miscarried again before I'd realised I was pregnant. I got an IUD.


The next one was more complex. A whole load of us had been up from Brighton to London to see JJCale and on the way back I started having crippling pains. One of the lads lived in Redhill, halfway back. He said I could stay there and called a doctor who called an ambulance where I was rushed into surgery for a suspected burst appendix. (Anesthetist: Have you taken any drugs? Me: Well I had some acid at the weekend and some speed earlier this evening and some fabulous Nepalese Temple Balls-- Anesthitist, wearily: No, prescription drugs) My appendix was removed, I was sewn up and discharged, despite continuing pain and a few weeks later keeled over again, doubled up in pain in the toilet of a night club. Ambulance, hospital. Dr: what's this recent scar on your belly? Me: I just had my appendix out. Dr: Why is it a vertical scar? Me: Because they weren't sure if that's what it was. Dr: and what did they say afterwards? Me: that there was some inflammation. Dr: I bet there was nothing wrong with it, that's what they always say then. 


I don't remember much between that and waking up on the women's gynae ward and being told I'd had an ectopic pregnancy and that the tube had not quite burst but had had to be removed. Will I be able to have an IUD again? No, you won't need one, you'll be sterile. 


So, when I was pregnant again, I was keeping it, and I did, for forty one years, my darling girl. I thought I'd stay with her father forever - that my children would have both their parents, but he's an awful fucking bloke, honestly, I couldn't do it. I left him and after being on my own for a while I got together with probably the most decent man I ever had a relationship with, but too soon I got pregnant again. I couldn't bear the thought of having two fathers on my case, didn't think then that I'd be able to make a go of it with the new one, it was all too much, too soon. Sam's dad was very much in our lives, letting us know what was acceptable and what wasn't, in his eyes. The other guy was leaving it up to me - not declaring that we could do it, at all. 


I went to the GP who referred me to the hospital where I spoke with another doctor and was given an appointment on women's surgical, for a termination. I had to go in the night before, so they could monitor my Nil by Mouth. When everyone else was eating dinner I went to the day room for a smoke. (1980s) I turned a chair to face the corner and cried, because it was sad. I didn't want to have an abortion, but I really didn't want a baby. I was barely managing - in retrospect, depressive and anxiety episodes were upon me, but unrecognised. The other women came into the room. One spotted me and asked if I was OK. I sniffled and gulped yeah. Someone said, what are you in for, love? A termination? I said yes and the next thing I knew they were all around me sharing tales of abortions they'd had, including some back in the days before they were legal, kitchen table jobs, very precarious. They made me feel that abortions are what happen, not to everyone, but to many many sexually active straight women. 


I did feel some sadness but never regret. I felt most sadness at my brother's funeral, when this lovely man was there and I found that he'd never had children. But then my whole life would have been different, without Son and Daughter. We didn't stay together, me and him, and of course I got pregnant very quickly with Daughter via T, my Venezuelan boyfriend. I was on the pill at the time, but had had food poisoning and had no idea that vomiting like that stops the effectiveness of the pill. I was definitely keeping this baby, come what may, my lovely Daughter but after her I soon became pregnant again. I thought I couldn't do it - T was a nightmare, an alcoholic, violent at times, terrible. But as I sat on a bench at the hospital waiting for my appointment with the doctor, I felt as if the baby I had within me called to me so I got up and went home and that was Son. I can't understand what was going on, but there you go.


Nine months later and I was pregnant again. A condom had come off. Life was mad hard but I had a place to go to university, where they had a creche. Sam was at school, we could get there on the train and be back in time to pick her up, all good. But I couldn't manage three pre-schoolers, I just couldn't and it was no good pretending I could. And I couldn't stay with T. So I went private this time, borrowed the money. No little voice as I waited to be checked in. No regrets here either, though when I was home again, my neighbour came in to say that she was pregnant. She'd had a son the same time as my Son, and now here was another one. Our two boys became friends and sometimes when I saw her younger one I'd remember that I might have had one the same age as him, but I didn't because I couldn't have done. 


It's not a great story, but then they never are. No one grows up wanting to have an abortion. Many women's stories will tell of greater hardship than I had, some of less. It is what it is. I don't believe I've killed babies. I've miscarried at the same number of weeks and I know it's just cells and clots of bloody matter. They could have become people but they didn't, just as not every acorn becomes an oak tree. 


I hope the law in the US doesn't get changed.

12:45 a.m. - 04.05.22

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