I chose abortion. In 1978, I was pregnant, didn’t want to be, and chose abortion.
Group Health Cooperative was my insurer, and they covered much of the procedure. I was 19 years old. And there weren’t many obstacles. My abortion-adverse boyfriend wouldn’t help pay my share of the cost, but he promised to be there for me when it was done, and he kept that promise – tea, pampering, warmth, kindness. It was odd, but a mostly-tolerable anti-abortion attitude, and he certainly didn’t try to keep me from going through with the abortion.
Having health insurance most definitely helped; I was part of a network of services. Admittedly, I had to go to Seattle twice, once for a pre-procedure appointment, and then again for the a abortion itself. And I had to go to the local GHC clinic to have a laminaria inserted. The older man who inserted the laminaria was friendly and kind, and gentle, and perfectly comfortable telling me why they wanted me to have the thin, dried up, sterile piece of seaweed inserted in my cervix, to soak up the natural liquids in my vagina, swell the thing, and help open my cervix for the next day’s procedure. He told me how old the use of laminaria was (old, though I don’t remember how old anymore), how trusted it was.
My mother drove me to Seattle the next day – an hour’s drive, and my mother was nervous but supportive, and the clinic workers were practical, kind, efficient. I didn’t see the doctor until just before the abortion, but I’d met with her the week before. They did some physical testing at that first appointment – heart rate, weight, general health screening – but the bulk of that appointment was spent in talking: how an abortion works, what to expect, gentle questioning about who’s choice this abortion was (mine? another person?). They were careful, respectful, informative.
The abortion appointment next week took longer, but was also respectful, easy, supportive of what I was choosing. The procedure itself was quick, the nurse and doctor happy to tell me what they were doing and why, and it didn’t hurt much. I waited afterwards in a semi-dark room with other women, all of us quiet, none of us seemingly in deep trauma or regret.
My mother waited patiently in the room by the front desk, took me to lunch afterwards, asked careful and non-invasive questions just in case I wanted to talk about it. I did want to talk about it. She listened patiently and attentively to everything I had to say.
As promised, my boyfriend was waiting when I got home, ready to take care of me, fetch me comfort food, and blankets, and kittens, and smoke. No guilt, no drama. I felt empowered by the abortion: I had made a decision about the trajectory I wanted my life to take, and acted on that decision.
This is how abortion access should be.
And now, as of today, this is how it can not be, for far too many women, in far too many states.
It will take a long time, but we must, MUST change this.
You must be logged in to post a comment.