Many of you saw my post a few days ago where I shared my story and how I felt pressured by my boyfriend and his family. I have the abortion scheduled. I wrote a letter to myself and to the life I carry inside me. I was told I’m 6 weeks and a few days pregnant, and I’ve been feeling deeply emotional throughout this whole process.
Each day that passes, I become more certain of my reasons for choosing this path — for choosing myself and trying to protect a future baby from the pain that might come during such a difficult time. Even though I’ve made my decision, I still feel emotional thinking about what could’ve been in another life, another reality. If I had a healthy family, healthy parents. If I wasn’t so traumatized. These thoughts and “what-ifs” will probably stay with me for a long time.
My relationship was shaky but now even more shaky, especially because he was against the abortion. He accepted it in the end, but he’s heartbroken, and so am I. We didn’t want our love to come to this, or to possibly break because of it. Despite all our flaws, we met in Lisbon and fell in love deeply. Coming from different cultures, backgrounds, and nationalities, we managed to get through so many challenges and personal problems to make a life together in the south of France.
I don’t know what will happen after this. It’s sad to think I’m consciously choosing to end what could be our only child — the only living proof of our love. I remember asking ChatGPT, just for fun, at the beginning of our story, to generate how our children would look. They were so beautiful and cute. I wonder if this one would have looked like that too.
So far, I haven’t felt any change in wanting to keep the pregnancy. All I can think about is restarting my life. But I do feel some kind of love for this life inside of me. Not enough love to carry it longer, but enough to want to protect it — from generational trauma, or from having a mother like the one I had.
That’s why I wrote a letter to it. I told this little spark of life that I hope it comes back to me one day, when I’m ready, in any form. That it forgives me for choosing myself, for putting myself first. Because I deserve that, after everything I’ve been through.
My father is dying from ALS, and although I didn’t tell him about the pregnancy — because it would break his heart and make him even more emotional — I still think about him every day. I didn’t tell my parents. Only my sister and my aunt know. I don’t have a very “normal” family. I know he wouldn’t understand, and that thought hurts. A part of me wishes it could have been different.
On the 10th, I take the first pill. On the 11th — my boyfriend’s birthday — I’ll be going through this pain, and he’ll be there with me. Supporting me, even while grieving something he wanted. Life can be cruel like that.
I’m not religious. I don’t believe in the Bible or the church. But I do hope there’s something bigger than us, something that can help carry me through this. Because all of this will become the memory of my first pregnancy. And of how much I suffered for not wanting it. I hope I don’t regret it
Comments
I never went through what you are, so I can empathize but not claim I have felt as you do. As a random stranger on the interwebs all I can do is send you virtual hugs. Few decisions are without regret and thplisnine more than most. I wish you well and hope you continue to feel strong, whatever happens.
Sending you hugs and hopes for a happy future for you
I don’t regret having an abortion but I regret it was a decision I had to make. That’s an okay way to feel. Hugs! Life is hard and complicated. But you are amazing and strong and deserve all the good things.