Listen to a more detailed version of this story in podcast episode #26 on Australian Abortion Stories.
My period was five days late and I had extremely sore boobs and had experienced some nausea on and off.
I knew full well I couldn’t have a baby right now so thought nothing of it and maybe I was a little stressed. Soon enough it got the best of me and I decided to take a test.
Two strong lines. Fuck. The tears just flowed.
I messaged my partner asking him to visit me after work and he rang instantly, knowing full well something was up. Through tears I told him I was pregnant and he came as quickly as he could.
As soon as I saw the lines I knew what our option had to be. It was to have an abortion.
I can’t explain that feeling. Complete numbness. Absolute shock. I just found out I was pregnant while knowing instantly that I wasn’t keeping this baby.
With an abortion you can only get one if you’re six weeks. At my first scan I was only four weeks and no baby was visible, so we could only see a sac, which was devastating for me knowing I had to wait longer.
The second ultrasound was just to prove how far along I was, and as soon as I saw the screen and those two sacs, I knew what it meant.
The whole scan I was shaking trying not to let the tears stream out. Complete disbelef. Complete guilt and shock. Why was the universe fucking with me?!
I looked at my partner and I’m sure he knew exactly what I felt in the moment.
The technician knew why we were there and was so lovely and took her time to tell me what as happening and even allowed some videos. The only videos I’ll ever get of my twins.
She gave us time to ourselves and I let it all out. Tears upon tears upon tears. My partner just holding me while I sobbed.
To abort one was breaking my heart, and to know I’m growing two was like someone pulled my heart out and stomped all over it knowing I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
I will never forget that feeling. I will never forget the full body sobs and sounds I made driving home.
I made twins yet I will never get to meet them.
I freaked out. Like really freaked out. My heart was racing, I felt sick to my stomach, and I kept saying to mysefl: I can’t do this. Over and over and over again.
I felt like the weight of this decision was suffocating me and having the call with the doctor meant this was all going ahead.
That night I went to my partner and instantly a wave of calmness rushed over me. He’s my safe space and grounds me without even saying a word.
We spoke about why this was our decision and the love we had for our babies. We spoke about our future and all the things we have to look forward to.
Although this decision was heartbreaking for me, we knew it was the right one.
I took that doctor’s call through tears and learnt about the process and what my body has to endure.
She was so kind, so patient and I didn’t feel an ounce of judgment. Just warmth and empathy. Just what I needed.
One more week until my medication abortion.
Sitting here with my swollen belly, knowing that in just a few days I have to take the first tablet. I have never felt so much emptiness. So much guilt and sadness, wishing this wasn’t the outcome.
Having abortions is lonely. Having an abortion is extremely heartbreaking. Having an abortion is scary. Having an abortion isn’t the easy option.
So as I sit here knowing I won’t share my body for much longer, I give it a rub and I tell my babies how much I love them because none of this is coming from a lack of love.
Abortion isn’t always about not wanting a baby. It’s about making the best decision for you, your family and the little life growing inside you.
I know some will judge. I know some won’t understand. But that’s OK. I know in this moment right now I’m being the best mama to all of my babies, and one day I’ll look back and realise the sacrifice I made was the right one.
But for tonight with tear-soaked cheeks, I want to embrace this time and make sure they know just how much they mean to me.
Just because I’m having an abortion doesn’t mean I don’t feel attached.
This is slowly killing my soul and I just want to wake up from this nightmare, but for me being present and celebrating their life is more important. So time to wipe the tears, swallow my shame and love them in my own way while I still can.
Today the medication arrived. I’ve been anxious all morning, feeling like my heart was in my throat. Once I swallow this tablet, it’s all over. My babies will be gone.
I instantly started crying, shaking, and feeling like I could not catch my breath. Knowing I had to work in an hour, I calmed myself down and took a moment, just staring at the tablets wondering if I could do this.
I decided to take the tablet with me and ingest it after work to allow some time and emotional space to feel however I needed. By 3:30 I had taken it. It was done. In 48 hours I’ll be taking the next one and labouring my little babies and this nightmare will be over. Well, physically.
Emotionally I’m scared of what’s to come because right now I feel like the worst person in the world and guilt is eating me up from the inside out.
There’s no backing out now and now it’s time to come to terms with the fact I was never going to meet my little loves.
I took my medication and the anti-nausea tablets as directed and the pain started pretty much instantly.
I was determined not to take the heavy pain relief but soon decided I didn’t need to punish myself more than I already had.
The pain was intense but manageable. In comparison to labour, it’s when you need to breathe through the contractions and start contemplating hospital but know you still have lots of time to go.
After a few hours of these contractions and basically curling up in bed being held by my partner, I decided to get up and move my body to speed the process. I stood up and swayed from side to side, just how I’ve laboured all my babies.
After a while I becams tired and decided to sit back up in bed. At this point the pain stopped completely. For an hour I sat in bed talking with my partner feeling confused as to why the pain had stopped. I decided to go to the toilet.
When I went into the bathroom I felt a clot come out and yelled for help. There along side one of the clots was one of my babies, no bigger than my thumbnail.
At this point I feel I was in shock. My partner came in to help me and took everything away while I showered. It was there that I felt the second clot passing and I believe it is where I lost twin b.
I finished my shower and got into bed and the tears just came. Flooded with emotions. It was over and they were gone. Four hours is all it took, and my heartbreak for the past three weeks was filled with fear of regretting my decision.
In that moment, I felt a wave of relief and although I will always be sad, I knew it was the best choice for the both of us.
The next day I was still in quite a bit of pain with cramping. I felt extremely worn down and exhausted, but still had three kids to care for and a full week of work ahead of me. Taking it was not an option at this time, but luckily for me I had so much support around me.
I had amazing support from my doula and friend. She was constantly checking on me, holding space, and gave me three hours of care. For this entailed lots of debriefing, a beautiful meal and snack, followed by some light house duties. Most importantly, I felt like I could let all my thoughts and feelings out into the world without fear of judgment and it was so therapeutic for me.
Whether you had your baby at full term or 8 weeks like me, you’re still postpartum. Just because I ended this pregnancy didn’t mean I didn’t deserve love and care.
By sharing my story I’m hoping to shed light on the layered emotions of this process and to break the stigma and shame.
I also want to discuss how postpartum support can be needed in lots of different ways. Without the support of my doula, I feel this process really would have swallowed me whole.
As a natural nurturer, someone who loves every part of motherhood, this decision took so much of me. Selfishly I would have loved to have kept them, but logically it wasn’t the right time and ultimately I had to think of everyone else around me more than what I wanted in my heart. As someone who knows how much work being a parent is, it just wasn’t our time.
During this process. all I wanted was to hear other’s experiences just to feel less alone, but this is definitely a subject that is hidden and not spoken about.
The world keeps spinning even when your world stops, and sometimes you feel like you just need to scream it out to the world, but we don’t allow it. We swallow it down and battle it silently, but I’m done with that narrative.
We women endure so many silent battles and although I won’t share every detail, I do feel if this helps just one person feel less alone and less ashamed than I did, it’ll be worth it.
My recovery has been long and hard. After my medication abortion, I continued to bleed and by week four and being constantly triggered from the blood loss, I called the clinic again.
After telling them my symptoms, they said go straight to emergency because they felt I had retained products of conception, which can cause an infection.
I presented myself to ED twice that week and it was there that it was confirmed that I did in fact have retained products in my lining and my womb.
The wait time was long for the D & C (an abortion procedure) that i needed and by this point I broke down to th is poor doctor that gave me the news I had to wait over a week to even book in.
I went home deflated, exhausted, and angry.
Taking matters into my own hands, I rang the abortion clinic and was able to secure an appointment for a D & C in a few days time.
The clinic didn’t allow support to come in and they unfortunately were running very behind.
It was interesting being there, though. Looking around and seeing the women that were in there.
I think with abortion, you picture young women. But it’s all women. From all backgrounds, diversity and reasonings for being there.
I spoke to one lady in depth on why she was there and on why I was. For me it made the shame slowly disappear, and it was then that I decided we needed to talk about this more.
By 7:30 pm I was going under light sedation and by 8:30 I was drowsy but awake with some cramping and pain. I was on my way home by 8:50 to eat and sleep. I spend the night cuddled up to my partner feeling like I could finally breathe and this is actually going to be over.
It took time to recover and the exhaustion hit me pretty hard, but I’m feeling more like myself everyday.
During these past three month I’ve really retreated. I stayed off socials, I didn’t really see my friends. I was just consumed with grief. For me, this is what I needed.
This experience has forever changed me, but not as negatively as I first assumed.
It has taught me to be kind to myself, to speak up for what I need. It has taught me to be more understanding of this process and all sides and all reasons for abortions.
But most of all it’s taught me that motherhood is complex and the judgment we endure is still a huge problem in our society.
We should never feel ashamed or judged for decisions we make for our bodies and our future.
By speaking about my experience, I hope it allows more space for open conversations around abortion and the grief that may follow.
My body has been a home for six babies now (three children, one miscarriage, one twin abortion.) Although I only hold three in my arms, I will always love all of them.
To not recognise my twins due to shame just doesn’t feel right to me. So here I am sharing my story, remembering my babies and I hope it allows you to do the same.