Yesterday morning I told the Father of my unborn child I was going for tests but I had an abortion. He didn’t know I was pregnant. He would have told me to abort it anyway but I couldnt bring myself to endure the pain of seeing his indifference to his unborn child. I caught the train to the clinic, it was raining. I walked through the rain using google maps. I got to the clinic soaked. I acted pragmatically. I filled in the forms without emotion. I paid $400. I got called in. Took off my clothes put on a robe and then sat in a room alone. I kept thinking about the ultra sound id had just two weeks prior. The clinician showed me my child moving, arms and legs kicking. And he said “so cute” no two words have ever haunted me as much as they did. How I yearned for the babys fathee to have the same affection a mere stranger would. I got called in. There was a skylight in their ceiling. I could feel tears dropping down the aide of my cheeks. I forced myseld to stop like I had some sort of social responsibility to not make the medical practitioners feel remotely uncomfortable. The last thing I remember whispering was Im sorry to my baby. I woke up in an armchair, dimly lit cubicle. I wasnt aware of where I was but the gravity of my guilt made me burst into uncontrolled sobs.
