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southern exposure  by tiffanyhelena

My period was several days late. Unlike me, my period is always punctual. How I have become pregnant I am unsure. I have had sex twice, but both times used condoms and he didn’t ejaculate. Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter, because he is infertile. I decided to take a pregnancy test. I pace the halls as the four minutes slowly tick by. Those are the longest four minutes in my life. I look down at the stick and the result is plus one. This is not the kind of plus one I am used to having. I refuse to believe the test, so I take another one. That one had to be wrong also. I am just twenty-two years old this can’t be happening. After five more tests it becomes harder to convince myself that they are wrong.  I decided to talk to my best friend about getting an abortion. She had one previously and she could tell me what to expect if I decided on having one. She said she didn’t regret her decision. She said it wasn’t that bad. “The worst part is the mental havoc it puts on you.”, she said. I felt that it would have more of an detrimental impact to have the child, then to not. I took the easy way out. I liked my life as it was. I liked not having responsibilities. I came to the conclusion that I was going to go through with an abortion. I talked to Calvin, because he was the only person I had slept with. He thought I was lying, because he was infertile. Perhaps, he figured it was a scheme to get money. None the less, he agreed to pay for the procedure, but wanted nothing to do with me afterwards. Little did I know it really wasn’t his child. I thought he was lying in order to escape the responsibility of having to pay for it. One night when Lovey was coked out of his mind and he confesses to having sex with me while I am drugged and unconscious. He admitted to ejaculating inside me while I was sleeping. I can’t express the rage that flowed through me after he had said that. I’ve never felt so violated in my life. Turns out he had been doing that for awhile. He would give me sleeping pills to help me sleep better, because I had trouble sleeping after doing cocain. I guess he wanted to make sure I wouldn’t wake up while he **** my unconscious body.  I’ve never hated somebody more in my entire life. He apologized, but there wasn’t a single part of me that could even consider forgiving him right now. I had to walk away. After hearing that I definitely wanted an abortion. How could I tell my child he/she wasn’t conceived consensually? I couldn’t, so I made an appointment at the clinic.
Entering the parking lot at the clinic wasn’t one of my most proud moments. The sidewalk was littered with protesters. They held signs that said, “ABORTION IS MURDER!” and “STOP!”. As if I didn’t feel bad enough already, I had people reminding me that I was a “BABY KILLER!”. They stopped me while I was trying to get out of my car. They said they could help me and that there were other options. I rushed to door as quickly as possible. I figured the quicker I get in, the quicker I can put this all behind me. I walked into the waiting room to find several girls waiting to see the doctor. One girl must have been four months pregnant. The sign on the wall stated that they perform procedures up to seven months. I find that murderous. I am not trying to be hypocritical, but at seven months a child has fingers and toes. Mine is still inside of a sachet. I don’t even think of it as a child. It’s in too early of a stage to be considered anything. When they call my name I go into a room and exchange my clothes for a backless hospital gown. When I lay down the nurse pulls my shirt up and say, “I’m going to be putting Vaseline on your stomach and taking a sonogram.” This is the moment I realize that I am actually pregnant. I knew before that I was pregnant, but this is the first time it feels like a child. It’s like in the movies when the happy parents look at the monitor to see the baby moving as the nurse monitors the heartbeat, except there is no happy couple. It’s just me lying there alone. There is a sign that says, “do not ask for a copy of the sonogram, because we can not give it to you.” I guess proof that the baby ever existed makes the whole abortion in itself more disturbing. I don’t really know, nor do I really want to. I just want to put my clothes back on and leave as quickly as I came in. The nurse tells me I am six weeks pregnant and for the next week I spend my days eating and throwing up.  My stomach has become bigger to me and my co-workers ask me if I had a boob job. After going home sick two nights in a row I give the rest of my scheduled days to another waitress and ask for the following week off. I told my boss I had a stomach ulcer. The day of my next visit I start to have second thoughts. I would like to keep it spite the circumstances, but in all actuality. I am neither mentally nor financially prepared to bring another life into this world. I block out the idea or reconsidering and drive to the clinic. I drive past the protesters and hurry into the clinic. Inside the office are more girls with unwanted pregnancies. When my name is called I exchange my clothes for another backless gown and lay down. The nurse tells me it isn’t an ectopic pregnancy and I can schedule and appointment for an abortion. I made my appointment and left. Reality and fear started to set in. 
The day of the procedure Lovey decided he would be there for me. Although I was still enraged and filled with resentment, I had nobody else. He dropped me off and agreed to wait in the car until I was done so that he could bring me home. While I was in the waiting room with about fourteen other girls they gave me a valium. By the time they called my name the valium had wore off and I started to get nervous and have second thoughts. When I entered the room the nurse told me to exchange my clothes for a gown and place my feet in the stirrups. She explained to me that after I am injected that there will be no turning back. “Do you understand?”, she asked. Quietly I replied, “yes’. She flicked the needle and took my wrist down and pressed the needle against my flesh. I cried out, “NOOO!”. I think I stunned her. She looked at me with this questionable concerned look.  She asked “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” I laid there solemn and worrisome and replied, “Yes, I’m just afraid of needles”. That was a lie. I was afraid I was making the biggest mistake of my life. The days prior I had began talking to my stomach and cradling it and now I was giving what was inside up. Was it going to be a girl or a boy?  I felt it was a going to be a boy, I imagined he would grow to be a doctor and save lives or maybe even cure cancer. So in this one act, I could be killing thousands that he might have saved. Or maybe, he was going to be the next great American serial killer. So perhaps, by going through this one painful procedure I am saving lives. For this the world should be grateful. I can visualize him as a baby in blue. He is precious to me and the world that surrounds him. While people look at him in awe they have no idea what he will grow into. He could be the person that would rape and mutilate your grand children. But, to me he was an innocent baby that had no choice in the matter, but like all people he may have grown into inhuman. I would have loved him regardless. He could have been a she and she could have been a slut. I play out the arguments we would have had. I would ground her for staying past curfew and sneaking out at night. I would see myself in her pretty innocent face. She would hold my sanity in her hands without her own knowledge. She could have made my life even harder by getting pregnant at sixteen. So, just when I though that my life was about to get less stressful, she would have brought on more responsibilities. After she injected me I started to tear up and slurred as I asked, “When am I going to feel the drugs?”. The doctor laughed and said, “If you could hear yourself speak you would know you already do.” They talked to me as they went through the steps. I can’t really remember what happened , but I do remember when they placed the hose shaped vacuum inside of me. I remember the loud suction noise it made. The doctor had to force my knees back open, because I kept wanting to close them. It was as if my body was saying what my heart wanted to. I didn’t want to throw it away. It became a part of me and I still wanted it. Damn him for making me go through this. Nobody should ever have to give up a child. This one day will lead to many of nights crying myself to sleep and apologizing to my unborn child that I so easily discarded. After the procedure I dosed off. Some time later the nurse shook me awake and told me I could go. I went outside to realize that Lovey was not there. I tried calling him several times, but couldn’t dial correctly due to the drugs. The nurse called him for me and then I went outside to wait for him. I was sitting on the pavement waiting and it started to rain. I was too loaded to move without help so I just sat there as the rain slowly soaked me. About thirty minutes later he showed up. I was too upset and tired to even yell at him. I wanted to cry and scream at him. I wanted to let him know what a horrible thing he had done to me. I wanted him to realise that for the rest of my life I would wonder “what if” and that it was all his fault. I couldn’t say anything. I just put my head back and wanted to go to sleep.  I took a vicodin to numb the pain...

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  'southern exposure' statistics: (click to read)
Date created: Nov. 26, 2007
Date published: Nov. 26, 2007
Comments: 1
Word Count: 1998
Times Read: 663
Story Length: 3
Children Rank: 3.4/5.0 (1 votes)
Descendant Rank: 0.0/5.0 (2 votes)