After Jacob’s funeral, life was returning to normal, but this time it was much more forced. Every day I woke up and had to tell myself to breathe. He’s gone, and he isn’t coming back. With that being said, fate has an awful sense of humor. It was shortly after the funeral I found out I was pregnant. I was so shocked to say the least. I was also overwhelmed and confused. I was 19, still working on my degree, widowed and now pregnant. How did I get here?
At first I didn’t tell a soul. I didn’t want to tell my friends and family because I didn’t want to see the pity in their eyes. I didn’t tell anyone else because I mean how am I supposed to tell a stranger that I am pregnant with my dead husband’s child. Talk about an awkward startup conversation. I knew I could get rid of the baby and no one would ever know, but I would be giving up the one chance I had to have Jacob in my life again. After a few days struggle, I knew I needed to seek advice from someone. Even considering having an abortion, I did not want to confide in my Moms. Their circumstance was far worse, and Mom still decided to have my older sister. I did not know how they would react if I told them I was thinking of getting rid of a child created with the man I was actually married and loved tremendously. Still unable to confide in those I was close to, I sought out professional help.
As I imagined it would be, telling someone who didn’t know me what had happened to me was, to say the least, quite uncomfortable. In the end, it turns out my new shrink knew what she was talking about. I actually had several issues that I really needed to talk through. I mean I was trying to accept that my husband is dead while now grasping the idea I was pregnant with his child. These things only happen in soap operas after all.
After several sessions with my doctor of discussing all my issues and my options, I decided that the only way I could move forward with my life was to get an abortion. I was so young after all, and knew there was no way I could provide a life for another living being in my current state. It was the hardest decision I ever made, but I made it for myself. I still hadn’t told anyone else about my current predicament, so I made the appointment at the clinic and went on my own. I alone had made this decision, and I alone would hold the burden of this knowledge.
As the doctor came in for the procedure, she saw that I was alone. “Before we begin, would you like to wait for anyone?” she asked while getting her supplies together.
Overwhelmed with so many emotions, I simply shook my head. That seemed to be all the acknowledgment she needed, because the next thing I knew, she asked me to put my legs up into the stirrups. She began to explain the steps that she would be performing, but the only thing I remember was the coldness from the speculum against my skin. I didn’t hear her say a word. I turned my head and closed my eyes as tears slid from behind my eyelids. And then it was over.
To be continued…