I had an abortion...

[rustysgurl]

58. I was 19 ...

... in college in 1976, pregnant and had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. I naively went to a clinic (we're talking rural Missouri here) where the caseworker recoiled when I said I wanted an abortion. She tried to talk me out of it, citing Bible verses and telling me I would go to hell. I fled and, fortunately, found a PP clinic. They set me up to have the abortion in Washington DC, the closest location available at the time. My parents were somewhat supportive and paid for everything, while admonishing me not to tell anyone else in the family and that this would be the only time they would help me. Nobody ever suggested asking the sperm donor to kick in or take any responsibility whatsoever.

I flew to DC on July 2nd, took my first cab ride to the hospital and had the abortion. As I recovered in a recliner, drinking juice, the nurse walked up and said my cab for the airport was waiting downstairs. Grabbing my purse and a bag full of aftercare stuff (antibiotics, pads etc) I moved as fast as I could to the waiting cab. I realized I was in serious danger of missing my flight home, and begged the driver to speed, if necessary. I'm sure we hurtled past many a monument but I seriously don't remember seeing any of them. We squealed up to the airport, I threw damn near all my money at him and raced for the gate. Running right after an abortion is not advised, but run I did. They were calling my name as I got to the gate and I was the last person on board before they closed the door. I sat in my seat, sweating and clutching my abdomen, sure that I had damaged something. The flight attendant was kind. I think she realized what was going on and she watched over me as we flew west. "Everything's going to be ok," I thought. Unfortunately, our flight was delayed coming into St Louis and I missed my connection to Springfield.

With the little money I had left I used the pay phone to call my parents. My Mom said my Dad had already left for the airport to pick me up (a 1-hr trip from our little farm town). She had to call the Highway Patrol to flag him down (which they did). I wandered around the St Louis airport clutching my purse and bag full of pills and pads, wondering what to do. A security guard, seeing my lost and confused expression, took me to the security office. I poured out my story and he offered to let me sleep on a cot in the first aid area. I drifted off to the sound of walkie-talkie traffic, hoping I wouldn't bleed through the only clothes I had. The guard on duty took care of me as if I was his daughter, bringing me food to eat and making sure I woke up in time for my flight the next morning. I got home and prepared to go back to college and move on with my life.

Two days later my older brother died. He drowned on the 4th of July. And for years I thought my brother dying was God's punishment for me getting an abortion. Was I prepared to be a mother? No. Was the father ready to step up? Again, no. Was it the right choice for me at the time? Yes. Do I sometimes still have regrets, 45 years later? Sometimes. It saddens me to think that other women might have to go through what I endured simply because there are no local abortion services offered in their areas.