THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, January 15, 1995 TAG: 9501120050
SECTION: HAMPTON ROADS WOMAN PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: YOUR TURN
LENGTH: Long : 120 lines
IT WAS JUST a few weeks ago that I was a patient at Hillcrest Clinic, where I went to terminate an unplanned pregnancy. My boyfriend drove me there. I took a day off from work, as did he, and we went there early that morning, telling no one we knew. We didn't know where Hillcrest was, and we passed the building several times before finally seeing the number of the building. There was no big sign, and we didn't see any protesters.
I had been feeling a little uneasy about being harassed. When I called to make my appointment, I asked whether there was any chance of that happening. ``Oh, no'' the woman on the phone reassured me. ``There may be a few people on the sidewalk - they may yell at you from there, but they aren't allowed to come up to the building.''
As we pulled into the parking lot, I saw was a lone protester, a man, wearing a placard that I didn't read. There was a line of people waiting at the credit union in the building. We were unsure of where the entrance would be so we walked to the front of the building, thinking we'd see a sign. That took us near the protester. He barked something about Jesus, I wasn't sure what. I guess he probably said that whenever a young woman arrived, glancing about in nervous apprehension like me.
We arrived in the waiting room of the clinic and sat down to wait for my name to be called. I looked around the room at the faces of the other women. People were chatting and smiling. Even I smiled for my boyfriend to keep from crying. I knew that one tear would start a torrent. Yes, I felt guilt. I certainly felt a loss even before I had had the abortion. You see, I already have one child and that had been entirely unexpected and unplanned. That child is the love of my life and has brought me immeasurable joy. I know I could and would love another child just as much. I considered an abortion then, and friends told me it would be the right thing to do, considering that I was an unmarried college student. I decided to have the child, though. I decided that I was ready to be a parent, that it wasn't an impossibility. And now I was about to end a pregnancy.
Are my reasons selfish? You might think so. Was it an easy decision to make? Hardly. I know that I did the right thing, and I can live with my decision. But I think about what might have been if I'd decided to carry the baby - a son, a daughter, a life of love and happiness, pain and sorrow. I'm sure I will carry that with me forever. And I think about what will be in my life, what has been in my life - love and happiness, pain and sorrow. That is what life is. It is not easy as the ``Life: What a beautiful choice'' ads would like it to be. My life is much more complicated than that. It was an agonizing choice.
After my name was called, and after some routine tests were done, I was led into another waiting room where I sat with the other patients, young women and older women, women of all races and backgrounds. In this waiting room no one was chatting or smiling. We were left alone without the boyfriends, husbands, friends or family who had come with us that day, and it was in this room that we sat and considered what was about to come. It was a quiet room, filled with tension. I remember the woman who sat next to me with tears about to overflow and how I wanted to put my hand on her shoulder, but I thought that she would start sobbing. I remember the young girl seated a few chairs away who held her face in her hands, quietly crying.
When I went into the counseling session (where they educate women on different forms of birth control and make sure that the woman is comfortable with her decision to terminate her pregnancy), I cried. I sobbed. I told my counselor that I felt a loss. She agreed that it was a loss. She didn't try to turn it into a simple medical procedure, like treating a symptom such as appendicitis. She didn't try to make it anything less. Of course she didn't make me think anything that I wasn't already thinking. I didn't leave her office feeling lighthearted and free, but it was wonderfully comforting to talk to her. It was good to have the reassurance of someone other than my boyfriend.
After an eternal wait, my name was finally called to go in and have the abortion. I had already been at the clinic for four hours, in which I did not nothing but think about my decision and the procedure. I was terrified. I was led into a small room where I was told to undress from the waist down. Then another wait, in which every detail of that room was burned into my memory. The doctor and nurse came in. The whole thing was over in less than 10 minutes, the actual abortion in less than five. It was excruciating, and left me drained and physically ill. I had no idea what to expect. It was worse than what I was prepared for. I stumbled into the recovery room expecting to go into shock. I was lightheaded and nauseous. As bad as I felt, it was amazing how quickly I felt better. Within half an hour, I felt like going home and 15 minutes later I did. I left the recovery room and returned to the original waiting room where my boyfriend was.
When we left the building, the lone protester was gone. In the car, my boyfriend had a bouquet of flowers waiting for me. I still haven't told him how touched I was by them. I just wanted to go home.
After having a prescription filled, we went home. After a nap, a deep, dreamless sleep, I felt much better. I took a shower and cried a bit. I talked to my boyfriend about the day, and I told him how I couldn't put into words my emotions, how I felt something so different from anything I'd felt before.
I know how easy it might be for people like John Salvi, David Crane, Donald Spitz to reach their levels of anti-abortion fervor, to see life in terms of only black and white. How could someone who could never be pregnant be able to feel what I was feeling? It wasn't an easy thing to do. It's not something I am proud to have as a life experiences.
I thought my views on abortion over the years. At one point I felt that I would certainly never have one myself but that a woman should have that choice. When I had to make that choice, I am glad that the law allowed me to go to a place like Hillcrest and if the law said otherwise, I would have found another method.
When I heard that John Salvi had been caught in Norfolk after allegedly spraying gunfire into the building that houses the Hillcrest clinic, I thought of the people I had seen the day I was there. I thought of the nurses, the doctor, the counselors, the lab technician and the office workers, all who touched me with their sensitivity and understanding. I thought of the people who had accompanied the patients that day, including my boyfriend. I thought of the patients and how the law allowed all of us the freedom to receive safe and legal abortions, and how men like Paul Hill, who could never know what I or any woman might go through in our decisions to abort pregnancies, are trying to stop something they can't control or understand. It had been a few days earlier that I stood in the hallway where the bullets flew. The people who stood outside the Norfolk jail with signs showing their support and appreciation for the alleged actions of John Salvi would have been conspirators to and celebrators of my own murder had I been standing in the line of fire. MEMO: The writer of this essay wished to remain anonymous. by CNB