My husband and I have already told our families that we are expecting. When the test came out positive, I became a robot. I exited the bathroom, called my husband who rejoiced and foolishly, we spread the news. Everyone is over the moon. But by nightfall, a familiar beast is creeping in- one that no one else can detect but me. Just as suddenly as my mind snapped when my daughter arrived, it has tuned out all reason now. I am going crazy again, just when I have gotten back on my feet.
I tell my husband, in the dark of night, as I sit on the couch trying to speak above the voices in my head, that I cannot imagine how I will possibly live through another bout of Post-partum Psychosis. I hadn't thought it would happen again, but as my hormones fertilize the new sprout of insanity, I realize I have been ignorant. My step father's voice is already coming through in waves, like a radio frequency almost dialed in.
There is nothing more in the world that I want more than to get this over with- to make his voice go. I need my body to myself. I need my mind back. I had no idea it would go this fast. I need to get this done so I can pretend like it never happened. I need to draw pictures with my daughter, take walks and smile. I cannot do that until I am gutted. I am so sorry. I have never been so sorry in all of my life.
I beg the practitioner to see me immediately. She says there is an appointment as soon as next week. I am flushed with panic. A week will see me to the loony bin. I can't allow time to make this real. This has to happen today, tomorrow at the latest. My voice must be convincing because she puts me on hold to see what she can do.
I can come in tomorrow. I thank her profusely. I stand outside of myself and take notice of the perversity of this transaction. I am thanking her for helping me to kill my child in a timely manner. I hate me. She must be disgusted with me, even though it's her job not to judge. My husband is grieving and I can't look at him, my shame is infinite. Our families are kind, not wanting to see me fail and knowing that either way, I did. My unborn child will look down upon me as it ascends in its ethereal body and cry out for me. I will here its cries every day for the rest of my life.
All of this I know, but what I know with everything that I am and everything that I have been is that if I carry on with this pregnancy, I will die and leave my six year old child motherless. If only I had known this before the stick turned blue.
I shared this- my deepest guilt and sadness, because it is another experience woven into my tapestry of abuse stories that I think is important to acknowledge. Hard things are important to acknowledge. It brings important issues to light.
We all have our opinions about abortion. We all have something to answer to within our morality. Every woman who has ever had an abortion has had to face doing something unmentionable. But, please, let us not judge, lest we be judged. I do not believe it is my job to judge and damn others. I cannot imagine pretending to know what is behind other peoples' actions. I can feel sad or angry, but I try hard to feel these things with an open mind and heart. I guess it is time for me to feel these things for myself.
Here is a link for anyone who has or is suffering from Post Abortion Stress Syndrome: