In December 2014, I had a medical abortion at age 29. When I realized I was pregnant, I hesitated only momentarily in my decision. I thought about my mom, who had me when she was 19, and how hard she worked to provide for me. I thought about how cool of a parent I would be. I thought about all the nice moments a child could bring. Ultimately, however, I determined that I was not ready, financially or emotionally. I discussed this at length with my partner, who agreed that an abortion was the best choice, not just for us, but for me.
Luckily, since I live in the District of Columbia, this choice was not met with judgment or impossible hoops to jump through. I went to Planned Parenthood, or PP, got a sonogram to determine how far along I was and scheduled an appointment to take the “abortion pill.”
Right now, women’s reproductive rights are in jeopardy. Congress is threatening to defund Planned Parenthood after a controversial — and heavily edited — video was released featuring the organization’s senior director of medical services discussing the procurement of fetal tissue for medical research.
The more than $500 million of federal funds provided to Planned Parenthood are not allowed to be used for abortion services, except in cases of rape, incest or when deemed a medical necessity, but abortions seem to be driving much of this debate. Abortions only constitute roughly 3 percent of the vast services PP provides, from STD testing to Pap smears. Nonetheless, whether Planned Parenthood can continue to provide the other 97 percent of its services to women across the country hinges on the opinion of an 80 percent male Congress that seems hellbent on setting women back 43 years. (Roe v. Wade was in 1973.) The consequence of defunding Planned Parenthood would be severe — cutting their annual revenue nearly in half. This would mean that the price of PP services would become much more expensive, leaving many low-income and uninsured women (and men) unable to receive the reproductive and sexual health care they need.
After watching heated videos of Planned Parenthood’s president, Cecile Richards, testifying before Congress, I felt compelled to share my story. There remains a fierce stigma around abortions, not to mention most women’s health issues, and it seems that our inability to talk about our bodies means we are more susceptible to bullying and shaming from people with outdated and sexist beliefs. My hope in recounting what it was like to take the “abortion pill” is that it will demystify the experience and help other women in their decision to have or not have an abortion — or at least encourage them to feel comfortable discussing the subject and sharing their own stories.
If you are under nine weeks pregnant, you can take the “abortion pill.” It is really two separate pills: mifepristone, which you take at the clinic, and misoprostol, which you need to take 24 to 48 hours after. The first pill stops your body from producing progesterone, which causes your uterine lining to shed, thus disrupting the pregnancy. The second pill causes your uterus to empty.
After taking the first pill, there were no noticeable effects. As I was preparing to swallow the pill in the clinic, a compassionate nurse walked me through the process and assured me that I would be OK. She warned me that after taking the second pill at home, I would experience mild to severe cramps and would bleed for an indeterminate amount of time (possibly up to four weeks).
I took a Friday off work so I could recover at home over the weekend after taking the second pill. This is really a necessity for anyone who is able to choose to have this type of abortion. It’s also very helpful to have someone you trust with you. The nurse told me that four to five hours after taking the pill, I should expect to start bleeding and possibly vomiting. Sure enough, almost exactly four hours later, I threw up and began to bleed. The cramps weren’t unbearable the first day or so, but they got worse, as did the bleeding. On Sunday, two days later, I tried to go to the mall to do some Christmas shopping and I could barely walk.
The cramps eventually subsided, but I continued to bleed until mid-February. Being a very nervous (OK, paranoid) person, I called Planned Parenthood, and the staff assured me that prolonged bleeding is normal, as long as there aren’t any clots bigger than a golf ball and you aren’t soaking two pads in an hour.
All in all, because I was armed with Planned Parenthood literature, a laptop on which to Google any scary-seeming symptoms, and a partner who brought me treats throughout the endeavor, I felt safe and cared for.
The Planned Parenthood staff were nicer than most people at my actual gynecologist’s office. They were responsive to my questions and very kind. They never asked why I wanted an abortion; they just verified that it was what I wanted, and then they did their job.
Ten months later, I can say that I still don’t regret my decision. It was certainly unpleasant, and I hope I never have to do it again, but I stand by my choice. In fact, I am more uncertain about publishing this article than I was about getting the actual abortion. The response to other women sharing their abortion stories has been hostile and violent. Amelia Bonow, who started the #ShoutYourAbortion campaign, has even received death threats, according to multiple media reports.
I am lucky that I have a job that allowed me to take time off. I am lucky that I could afford the $400 cost. I am lucky that my boyfriend stayed with me while I barfed, cramped and bled. Not all women have the small “luxuries” of sick days, expendable income or a solid support system. But instead of fighting for new rights, we are defending what rights we have.
I wanted to share this to encourage women to talk about their bodies, and also to remind people that it’s not just faceless women utilizing Planned Parenthood services. It’s your co-workers, friends, neighbors, wives, mothers and sisters. Someone you know and maybe even care about may have already benefited from a Planned Parenthood service, or could in the future. Threats to women’s reproductive and sexual health are not abstract; they affect you and/or the women in your life.
Keeping Planned Parenthood funded is only preserving what we’ve already won for women’s health. We need to expand what Planned Parenthood offers. We need to make reproductive and sexual health care accessible to all women, not just those with decent jobs and attentive partners, like me. We need to increase awareness of these issues across the board, not just among women.
We need to be loud and adamant about our rights as women because people desperately want to take them away. We need to talk to each other and share, so we aren’t afraid or ashamed. I am certainly not ashamed that I had an abortion, and if my candidness helps even one person feel better, I consider that a win. I #StandWithPP.
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Why I Chose to Have a Medical Abortion at Planned Parenthood originally appeared on usnews.com