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Abortion

From:     dog
Category: Life
Date:     28 July 2009
Time:     06:12 AM

Review:

Of all NHS services I have experienced abortion has by far been my best. Following a visit to my GP I 
was sent to the Termination clinic. Abortion is such a strong word when applied to oneself. Its sounds 
so dramatic, ďIím having an abortionĒ, a new word needs to be invented. Itís an emotional decision to 
make, even when at the early stages, especially if you have an active and emotional imagination. And 
I think that because the early stages of pregnancy have a material physical effect on me (I vomit, I 
need to sleep more, my breast swell immediately, my stomach pops out) I know its there, growing, its 
affecting my life now (if I continued it would effect the rest of my life, this choice makes it an absence). 
Imagine, there is this unknown potential baby, because its inside it is as personal as one can get, an 
unavoidable love. There is something to discover there, something endlessly fascinating, a new 
person, personality with a head. It is a strange and mysterious possibility that one is getting rid of, the 
unknown and exciting possibility of life. It is sad not to discover what that life is.

At the termination clinic they understand this. Run mostly by women, they offer a counselling service, 
and make sure that you have told people close to you, make sure that you have support somewhere. 
At the termination clinic a scan of the womb is done, a poignant reminder of the exciting sight of my 
childís first scan. That was a moment that made me want to giggle, to laugh, wondering at the 
possibility of what I had inside. This time I tried not to look at the scan. There was nothing 
recognisable on the screen, but I didnít want to see it anyhow. Afterwards I just felt like crying.

The next stage for me was a pill. This stops the cells/foetus developing. The following day I spend in a 
small unit of St Maryís by the canal in a room with four other women, and two female staff. There are 
sofas, blankets, tv and endless tea and coffee. It seems to be the only part of the NHS where there is 
space, and a sense that these people have the time to look after their patients, and care about them. 
It feels clean and calm, unlike the hectic mess of the maternity ward. So I wait here, while the doctor 
pops in every so often making sure we are all doing ok, reminding us to drink plenty of water while we 
bleed out our almost lives.

I know its not bad, and tomorrow I wonít be thinking about it any more, my nausea will be gone and I 
wonít need to fall asleep all the time. In this way itís a strange sort of mourning, a loss that I imagine 
now but will forget later.


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