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“And there’s the other one.”

Five words that changed everything.

Our pregnancy in itself was unplanned. My partner of ten years and I hoped that children would be in our future one day, but when I accidentally fell pregnant, we realised it was going to happen a lot sooner than we’d hoped. We weren’t ready, but we knew we could make it work.

It took a few weeks to wrap our heads around the idea that we were going to be parents. For three weeks, I thought I was going to have a baby. On our way to the first scan, when I was 8 weeks, I actually thought I’d begin to feel excited about the pregnancy. I was looking forward to finally telling our family and friends. At this point, only my best friend knew we were pregnant.

Then, we heard those words. My heart sank. I couldn’t believe it. Even as the ultrasound technician pointed them both out on the screen, I couldn’t believe this was happening to us. One baby was hard enough to come to terms with having; two was unthinkable.

We left the scan feeling empty. My primary feelings were of fear, dread, worry. I felt trapped. We weren’t financially secure enough to raise one baby, but we knew we could make it work. Two was out of the question. It would irrevocably change our lives, and not in a good way.

We got home and we were still in shock. The word ‘twins’ kept replaying over and over in my mind. I kept trying to picture our future with two babies. It was impossible. It would be twice as expensive, twice as challenging, twice as hard. I just couldn’t see a future where we could have twins and be happy.

We went for a drive to the beach and I called my best friend while my partner went for a swim. At first, she didn’t believe me. I think it was when she sensed the fear in my voice that she realised I was telling the truth.

She reminded me of my options, and that she’d be there for us no matter what decision we made. At the time, the thought of termination was hard to consider. It was something that we briefly considered when we first found out, before we knew there were two, but had decided to follow through with the pregnancy. I couldn’t change my mind now, could I?

But two is a different story. As hard as I tried, I just couldn’t picture our future with twins, not at this point in our lives. An unexpected pregnancy is one thing, but an unexpected twin pregnancy is something else entirely. I knew I wouldn’t be able to cope mentally or emotionally. Neither could my partner. We’d be giving up everything; our careers, our lives as we know it, it would all be gone.

The thought of the sleepless nights trying to settle two babies at once absolutely terrified me. The thought of breastfeeding two babies at once was also hard to imagine. I knew our family and friends would be there to help, but they weren’t going to be the ones getting up at 3am to twins. The realisation of what my body would go through during the pregnancy and postpartum also scared me, as well as the higher risks that come along with multiple pregnancy. It was all so overwhelming.

Finances were another thing to consider. We absolutely couldn’t afford two babies. We’d end up relying heavily on my partner’s parents for financial support, as well as help with care. We couldn’t ask that of them. My partner would lose his burgeoning career and so would I, and that wasn’t something I wanted for either of us. With one baby, I could see myself returning to work after six months, but with twins? That would be impossible.

I had a very restless sleep on the night we found out. I kept waking up, shaking, with the word ‘twins’ blasting in my mind. I was already stressed and anxious about it, how could I survive an entire pregnancy? I woke up the next morning and felt that I needed to look into my options.

It was then I knew what I had to do.

I never thought I’d have to go through the termination of a pregnancy. My partner and I are in our early thirties and we knew kids would be something we’d want one day. Even when it happened sooner than planned, we were ready to go through with it. I know twins are supposed to be a blessing; they’re rare, they’re unique. But to me, it felt like the ultimate burden.

I knew that I would regret having them more than I would regret not having them.

Coming to the decision was seemingly easy, however, the next day was a rollercoaster of emotion. I went through a period of grief about my choice, despite knowing deep down that it was the right one. I spend the afternoon and evening in bed in tears, letting out everything I didn’t know I had to feel. I think a lot of my emotion came from the fact that I thought we were going to have a baby. I was grieving the idea of the one baby I thought we were going to have.

On the day of the abortion, I wasn’t sure how to feel. I had to travel an hour to the clinic, and thankfully my partner was there to drive and support me. When I arrived, the staff were all so kind and the process was simple. I didn’t have to wait too long, and I was given plenty of information on what to expect. I chose to get a surgical abortion, which I believed was going to be the least painful and traumatic experience. I was right.

Every person I encountered that day, from the receptionist, to the doctor, to the nurses, to the anesthetist all treated me with such care, kindness and warmth that I almost forgot what I was actually there for. The doctor was so delicate throughout the counselling process before the procedure, and the anesthetist was making jokes with me before I was put under sedation.

I went under, and before I knew it I was was waking up in a private recovery room. There was a nurse with me, who provided me with an antibiotic and and anti-nausea tablet. She also gave me water and a lolly, and told me to take my time as I woke up and that my partner was already there waiting for me. The doctor then came in and explained how my procedure went, and gave me some information on what to expect as I recovered.

When I was ready to leave, I felt a little unsteady on my feet as the effects of the sedation wore off, but my partner was there to help walk me back to our car. When we got home, I spent the afternoon in bed, with no more pain than what I would usually feel during the first couple of days of my period. I was bleeding, but it only lasted the day of the procedure and for a week or so following.

The next day, I no longer felt cramps and the bleeding had subsided. It was then, however, that the gravity of my situation and the procedure really hit me, and I was overcome with emotion. It was confusing; I felt relief, yet an overwhelming sadness. I knew it was normal to feel this way, and at no point did I feel regret for my choice.

I am so grateful that I was able to access a safe abortion, and that I had the support of my partner and other loved ones during the most difficult time in my life. The hardest part is the fact that it was my experience alone. Yes, the pregnancy was both mine and my partner’s, but it was my body. I was the one who felt sick all the time, I was the one going through the changes in my body. I was the one who went through the procedure, I was the one who spoke to the doctor. As much as he was there for me, he could never truly understand what I went through. Neither could the other friends I spoke to about it.

The only other people who would truly understand what I went through were the other women in the clinic that day, and I’ll never get an opportunity to talk to them about it.

That is why I wanted to write about my experience. When I was deciding what to do, after I’d decided what to do and even after the procedure was done, I sought other experiences to help me feel less alone. If telling my story helps one other person feel like they have someone who understands what they are going through, then it’ll be worth it.