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Everyone Said to Abort

When I was seventeen I became pregnant out of wedlock. Of course we became married immediately because we actually were in love and wanted to eventually marry anyway. I had a healthy baby girl and we began planning to have more children. I suffered from two miscarriages before the age of twenty-one. I became very ill one winter, after the birth of my second child, a healthy boy (#4 pregnancy, though), Upon a visit to the doctor he prescribed some sort of cillen for a bad cold I had caught. Within a few days I came down with, what I thought was the flu, no thought of being pregnant. I continued to vomit and consulted my doctor, again. A type of suppository was prescribed because I couldn't stop vomiting and nothing would "stay down." I continued to be sick.

I visited my OB/GYN and she found me to be pregnant. She asked me if wanted another baby. I said, no, but I didn't care if I had one but expressed fear because of the previous miscarriages. Then she asked me if I had taken any medications. I told her about the prescriptions for the "flu" and cold. She showed a measure of anxiety and told me that those medicines could be harmful to the fetus and would I consider a therapeutic abortion. She scared me to death. I told her I needed to, talk my husband and parents. She encouraged us to do something permanent.

My husband and I have always beer very close, after all, we'd grown up together and suffered many hardships that brought the bonds all the more tighter. We went to the library to look up the medical affects of these prescriptions. Indeed they were harmful (terribly) to a fetus. The medical book scared us to death. We went to both sets of parents expecting infallible wisdom to roll from their lips. Everyone said to abort. We did. We were scared to death.

We both have totally blocked the day of the abortion, the location , the doctor (I had never been examined by a male doctor before - it was awful for my husband and me), the nurses, the building, everything, out of our minds. One thing is remembered by me, the fact that I had to have a blood test for venereal disease. It was so humiliating, that I cried.

My twenty four year old daughter asked repeatedly while growing up, "Why did you only have Nathan and me?" She resented being only one of two. My sixteen year old son has always wanted more brothers and sisters. My mother refuses to accept the fact that I did the wrong thing, and she won't discuss it; brushes it off by saying, "You did the right thing, you are an exception."

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