YoungAndScared
Bronze Member
I've been searching for a post like this.
I was pregnant this year. Incredibly pro life and unbelievably against abortion.
My boyfriend, family and his family all said that is was my choice in the end, but they all made it abundantly clear that I wasn't allowed to have my baby.
My boyfriend and I were not sure if I was too late to take the abortion pills. I said to him "If I am past 9 weeks, I am not having an abortion". We chose names, we chose schooling paths, and I even bought him a little hat and some booties. His name was Harry.
I was just shy of 9 weeks, and I knew then I was not going to get out of it. I had to make a choice. I run away, have no support or connection to my family for the rest of my life, or I take the pills.
I loved my boyfriend so much. So much so I went and took the pills for him.
I was 8 weeks and 6 days pregnant on April the 30th of 2011 and today I would be 24 weeks pregnant and my baby would be due on December the 10th 2011.
Instead that night on April 30th, in a strange hotel room, I picked up my unborn feotus when it fell down my trouser leg in the bathroom. I saw his fully formed head. The eye. His legs. The spinal collumn. And the bain of my flashbacks and terrors: His tiny fully formed hand.
All 5 fingers perectly splayed.
I ran from the bathroom and sat by the door screaming and crying while my boyfriend sat motionless in shock. I wouldn't let him touch me. I wouldn't let him speak. I hated him. I had chosen wrong.
After 2 hours of tears and screaming I got up in an air of strange calm, washed out my foundation pot in excrutiating detail, and layered it with toilet paper. I placed Harry in the pot and we drove to a street we didn't know, and placed him by a tree.
I passed clots the size of tenis balls and laughed the whole way home, in shock of what I'd just done. I snapped out when I heard my boyfriend telling the Police (who had pulled us over) what happened. "My girlfriend's just had an abortion, I need to get her back safe and quickly", he said. That asshole. He makes me do it, and then he brags about it?
We told his mum we had left Harry in a box by a tree the next day. I was so horrified hearing what I had said we drove back immidiately and colected him.
I held the box so tight in my hands the entire way home.
We burried him by a tree on a road ironically dubbed, "The Avenue of Rememberance", all I wanted to do was forget.
I was so violently ill during my pregnancy that the first thing I did was ate. And then the months of bleeding came.
I bled for 3 months, heavily. Constant visits to hospital, a blood transfusion and medication so strong I forgot my name and it still wasn't over. I still had tissues from the pregnancy left.
I took more abortion pills and passed the final remains.
I told my friends and flatmate that I had had a misscarriage. I can't cope with the truth.
I remember the whole night in detail. Like I am still there now, and my flashbacks are so bad they are often followed by blackouts.
I took flowers to Harry's grave for a few weeks, but now I buy him fresh lillies every week and have them in my window. With his boots and hat under my bed.
I have lost 2.5 stone and I am struggling to cope. To live day to day. To breath. On medication now that isn't strong enough to hold it all back. I want help but I can't find any.
I was pregnant this year. Incredibly pro life and unbelievably against abortion.
My boyfriend, family and his family all said that is was my choice in the end, but they all made it abundantly clear that I wasn't allowed to have my baby.
My boyfriend and I were not sure if I was too late to take the abortion pills. I said to him "If I am past 9 weeks, I am not having an abortion". We chose names, we chose schooling paths, and I even bought him a little hat and some booties. His name was Harry.
I was just shy of 9 weeks, and I knew then I was not going to get out of it. I had to make a choice. I run away, have no support or connection to my family for the rest of my life, or I take the pills.
I loved my boyfriend so much. So much so I went and took the pills for him.
I was 8 weeks and 6 days pregnant on April the 30th of 2011 and today I would be 24 weeks pregnant and my baby would be due on December the 10th 2011.
Instead that night on April 30th, in a strange hotel room, I picked up my unborn feotus when it fell down my trouser leg in the bathroom. I saw his fully formed head. The eye. His legs. The spinal collumn. And the bain of my flashbacks and terrors: His tiny fully formed hand.
All 5 fingers perectly splayed.
I ran from the bathroom and sat by the door screaming and crying while my boyfriend sat motionless in shock. I wouldn't let him touch me. I wouldn't let him speak. I hated him. I had chosen wrong.
After 2 hours of tears and screaming I got up in an air of strange calm, washed out my foundation pot in excrutiating detail, and layered it with toilet paper. I placed Harry in the pot and we drove to a street we didn't know, and placed him by a tree.
I passed clots the size of tenis balls and laughed the whole way home, in shock of what I'd just done. I snapped out when I heard my boyfriend telling the Police (who had pulled us over) what happened. "My girlfriend's just had an abortion, I need to get her back safe and quickly", he said. That asshole. He makes me do it, and then he brags about it?
We told his mum we had left Harry in a box by a tree the next day. I was so horrified hearing what I had said we drove back immidiately and colected him.
I held the box so tight in my hands the entire way home.
We burried him by a tree on a road ironically dubbed, "The Avenue of Rememberance", all I wanted to do was forget.
I was so violently ill during my pregnancy that the first thing I did was ate. And then the months of bleeding came.
I bled for 3 months, heavily. Constant visits to hospital, a blood transfusion and medication so strong I forgot my name and it still wasn't over. I still had tissues from the pregnancy left.
I took more abortion pills and passed the final remains.
I told my friends and flatmate that I had had a misscarriage. I can't cope with the truth.
I remember the whole night in detail. Like I am still there now, and my flashbacks are so bad they are often followed by blackouts.
I took flowers to Harry's grave for a few weeks, but now I buy him fresh lillies every week and have them in my window. With his boots and hat under my bed.
I have lost 2.5 stone and I am struggling to cope. To live day to day. To breath. On medication now that isn't strong enough to hold it all back. I want help but I can't find any.