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Like most Romanian women my age, I had an eventful first abortion in 1974 when I was a university freshman.
Abortion was illegal and punishable with two years imprisonment at that time. Romania’s president, Nicolae Ceausescu, had banned abortions in most cases in what became a failed and disastrous campaign to increase the country’s population from 23 to 30 million.
First, I had lots of shots containing some kind of painful mixture that was supposed to induce an abortion.
Nothing happened after a week, so one horrible evening I was taken to a lady who took me to a sort of medical woman, who lived in a country house far, far away.
She asked me to get up on the kitchen table, where she tormented me for what seemed to me forever with all kinds of sharp metal instruments she kept boiling on an ancient stove.
She took great precautions not to let me make any noise by putting a rag in my mouth and asking me to bite on it when it hurt.
I left that place with the conviction that I was never going to have sex again.
I was worried because I continued getting morning sickness despite the ordeal I had gone through. So, someone else took me for a secret check-up, which proved I was still pregnant.
How could that be? How could one have an abortion and still be pregnant? I was lucky I was taken to a real doctor this time, who finished the job on another kitchen table.
My second abortion was not as eventful as the first one, and, therefore, not as memorable.
I do remember it was the same male ob/gyn, in the same kitchen, facilitated by the same lady, for the same price that was higher than a monthly salary.
It was done with local anesthesia, which allowed a lot of pain, but I was well trained to not utter a sound, as everything bad was hush-hush during communism.
Funny fact: the apartment building was located right next to a church, which was the neighborhood’s most important landmark. It's so weird how certain memories refuse to leave one's mind, no matter how painful.
~ Daniela Draghici