This is a rented post from someone that wishes to remain anonymous. If you ever want to borrow my blog for a day, just use the contact form or email me. It’s all yours.
I had an abortion. I had an abortion that I’ve never once regretted.
I was already a mother twice over by this time. I was also separated from my husband at the time. I had accepted that I would most likely end up a single mother. But I was not willing to do that with a third child. I was not willing to bring another child into the world, enshrined in the mistakes of my marriage.
I hear so often that women regret their abortion. That women carry their abortion with them for the rest of their lives. While I understand that it may be true for a lot of women, it has not been true for me.
At the time I became pregnant, I was still married. Not so happily, but in a place where I had accepted that I would be unhappily married. For the kids.
Now my kids tell me they’re glad we’re divorced.
Adoption was not a viable option for me. I didn’t know how to keep my children feeling safe and secure in my love if they saw me give a child away. Raising a third child, on a questionable income, and even more dubious child support, was not an option. The only choice left was to terminate the pregnancy.
I regret getting pregnant, but only to a degree. Amazing how much can change in 6 weeks time.
You know what hurt? You know what was hard? The miscarriage I’d had a few years prior. I didn’t want for that pregnancy to end. I wanted that baby. I have thought about that child and who they might have been much more often than the abortion. But it wasn’t meant to be.
Quite simply, neither was the child meant to be that ended in abortion. It was the wrong time and the wrong parents. The child would’ve suffered many emotional injuries to come. It’s possible there might have been damage due to the child’s father’s drug problem.
Mostly, I had the abortion for my two living children, who still deserved the best quality of life that I could give them. Who still deserved the best mother they could get. I fear another baby may have broken me. I might not have been strong enough to end a bad marriage. I might not have been strong enough to make the best decisions possible, always with my children in mind. My abilities to provide the best for them were already limited and stretched. What would stretching those towards a third child have done to them, to me, to that child?
I don’t think I even cried or grieved during that time. I was weary, tired, and weak. And yet I know that it doesn’t make me cold-hearted to say so. I know who I am and what I can handle, and I know that there is a lot of love in my heart to give. I also know I wasn’t cut out to be a mother of three.
I post this anonymously because I’m sure I’ll be accused of being much worse than simply cold-hearted. I wish I didn’t feel like I have to hide from the world about it because of the accusations, but my point is not to start a war, or put myself up on a cross for the daggers. At the same time, I wanted to say it because (a) some other woman out there might be wondering why she isn’t beating herself up over her abortion – I wanted her to know she’s not alone, (b) the assumption is an abortion is something you’ll always regret – I want to say, “not necessarily,” (c) not every woman is cut out for motherhood (or, in my case, motherhood for a number greater than two), and (d) children don’t deserve to be neglected or abused because someone didn’t use a condom.
Very few matters in this world are right or wrong. Particularly when people are involved. You may not agree with my decision. That doesn’t mean that you can make me regret it.
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