Facing my abortion alone. A weight (literally) lifted off me.
Wednesday, 2.45am
My eyelids had grown heavy from reading articles, resources, hospitals…The list goes on and as I lay on my bed, staring at the blank ceiling above me,
I made my decision.
Friday, 11.30am
I boarded the bus
On the way, I look out the window
You’re on Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift resonates in my ear
12.10pm
I arrive and cautiously step through the doors
My hands are slick in sweat, trembling
I look around at the women around me with their partners
I suspect I’m the youngest here
12.15pm
The receptionist prompts me for my identification card
She was casual, nice.
But all I could think was “How harshly is she judging me?’
12.30pm
I had my consultation with the gynae
He was nice and re-confirmed my pregnancy
I told him what I had decided.
12.45pm
I was brought into a cold, sterile room.
The clinic nurse offers me a blanket
I was made to watch a counselling video about the abortion process
It made me sad and I tried hard not to think about it.
1.20pm
Before I knew it, the procedure was over.
It was done.
As I step back into the world outside, a weight had been lifted. In my solitude, I felt a mix of emotions. Relief washed over me — I had made a choice, and now I could move forward. Yet, that relief was tinged with sadness, a bittersweet acknowledgment of what I had left behind and the possibilities I had surrendered. The emptiness lingered on, like a hollow echo in my chest. It was a reminder of the gravity of my decision, a void that whispered of potential and loss. I glanced at the bustling streets around me, life continuing in its vibrant chaos, and I wondered how many others were also carrying their own hidden burdens.
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