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The two lines glare up at me.
I drop the stick next to the six others I took. All different brands with responses ranging from two lines, a plus sign, a smiley face - who the fuck thought that was a good idea? - and a single word: pregnant.
My knees buckle and I slide to the bathroom floor, my breaths quickening as I try to figure out what to do. I only know one thing for certain: I am not going through with this pregnancy.
Not now and not withhim.
“I knew I shouldn’t have kept you.” Mama snaps at me. “I was gonna be somebody, you know. Up until I got pregnant with your sorry ass and saddled to your father.”
I cower in my seat, wishing I could disappear.
“Shoulda drove to the clinic the day I found out.” Glaring at me, Mama spins on her heel and storms out of my room.
I wait to move for a long time, afraid of invoking her wrath again. Quietly, I reach forward and grab my dolls from the floor where I dropped them when Mama stormed in.
“I love you.” I whisper, moving my plastic doll’s arm to pat the little pocket doll’s head. A tear slips down my cheek as I imagine it’s Mama saying it to me.
I try to calm my breathing as the memory throws me back to the past. An image of me in ten years full of resentment and glaring at the child that ruined my life flashes in my mind.
I won’t do that to a child. When I have kids, it’s going to be when I’m ready and can give them the love they deserve. With a man who loves me and them.
I suck in a large breath and slowly release it, willing myself to relax so I can do what needs to be done.
When my body will respond, I reach blindly around the counter above my head until I find my phone. A quick web search shows the local women’s clinic. I click on the phone number and press the phone to my ear.
“Hi, my name is Katelynn. How can I help?” A chipper voice answers after the second ring.
Tears fill my eyes and my voice cracks as I whisper into the line. “I think I need…I think I need an abortion.” Shame fills me from the word.
It angers me that a simple word carries so much weight. It’s just another medical procedure for a medical concern but so many in our society have worked so hard to instill shame into anyone with a uterus that even contemplates seeking out the help.
Katelynn’s voice has softened as she responds. “Of course. Would you be able to come in today to discuss with a provider?” Her simple acceptance of my request causes the tears welling up in my eyes to fall.
I nod mutely before remembering she can’t see me. “Yes.” I croak.
She gathers all of my information and informs me they have an appointment at 1:45pm. When we disconnect the call I stare at the phone, willing this all to be a bad dream.
Maybe I didn’t come back. Maybe I’m in hell.
Pushing away the thought I look at the time.
11:33am
With a few hours to kill, I decide to take a nap, my body exhausted from the emotional whiplash.
When I wake up, I’ll go to the clinic and get this taken care of once and for all. Then everything will be back on track.
I try to convince myself as I close my eyes.
Nothing’s changed.
“Ava Marcia?” A feminine voice calls out.
I shuffle the clipboard and bag in my hands and rise, waving my hand toward the medical assistant. She waits patiently, offering me a kind smile as I make my way toward her. “Ava?” She confirms when I stop in front of her. I nod, fidgeting with the pen. “Perfect. My name is Emily and I’m Dr. Lareu’s medical assistant.” She gestures for me to follow her and we make our way back toward the exam rooms. “Are you okay if we get your weight? It’s helpful if you decide to proceed with medication.”
My heart races at the thought of getting on the scale. This clinic seems fine but all the years of medical trauma and weight shaming crash into me.
Sensing my distress, she pauses and looks at me with kind eyes. “If you would feel more comfortable, you could step on backward and I’ll just write down the number, you won’t have to know.” Emily offers, smiling softly at me. My eyes water andI clutch the clipboard to my chest, nodding. Smiling wider, she gestures for me to continue down the hall. “Okay perfect, I’ll add a note to your chart as well so the provider is aware and we can black it out on your discharge paperwork.”
