Abortion (Part 2)

(Read part 1 here if you haven’t already)

The decision:
I’m usually quite a rational and logical person. I love to debate and tend to disconnect myself or even disrespect my opponent the moment they become emotional. I inherited this horrible trait from my dad but not for the tyrannical purposes he uses it. I aim to win the argument and you will never find a solution unless you’re as logical as possible… I should have probably finished that law degree, I’d have made a good lawyer!

However, with the pregnancy hormones rushing through my pregnant body there was no way for me to make an objective decision. I knew that, I knew it and at the same time I didn’t know anything.

I just felt pregnant, felt love. Was it wrong to kill you, was it selfish? Would it mean bad karma? Were you a sign that my life should take a big turn? Did this mean, that I should be a mother now? Did you have the right to live? All I had was questions with no answers. I did not want to kill you, the thought of it was so painful. After all you were a piece of me, you’d be a fucking great human being. A wild child with a strong spirit.

And yet, I knew it wasn’t right. Neither the right time, nor the right father. I knew I was pregnant for about 10 days and during those days, as painful as most of the experience was, I had moments of absolute bliss. Bliss is not a word I overuse like many spiritual wannabes but in this case it’s truly the most fitting adjective.

On the way to his house I thought to myself, that life under no circumstances could get any worse than it was right now. But I didn’t realise that the worst pain was yet to come and that was when I realised you were gone.
But he did this because he loved me so much and wanted me back.
When all the doubts and concerns about having to make a decision disappeared for some moments – I felt better than I’d ever had before. A little like a whole body orgasm on acid. I felt like my body had finally reached a state that it was craving to get to ever-since puberty.

From those early days on I always imagined myself being pregnant, impatiently looking forward to it. My mother is an extremely loving and maternal person, a lioness raising me herself. Having her genes and being raised that way, it would only be natural for me to one day become a mother that dedicates her life to motherhood too.

And then there were all those people that decided rationally for me in a situation in which I wasn’t able to. And with that last bit of intelligence that remained from pre-pregnant days, I knew, they must be right. Not a single person I had spoken to was for you. Not one! And eventually I thought to myself, let democracy win.

However amazing you’d be – they must be right. I thought I might not be able to make the right decision for myself and I wasn’t. Luke, the friend I was staying with had probably the greatest influence and at some point he looked at me and said “you know what you have to do”.

How the fuck though…
So I gave in, I would have an abortion. And that’s when I had to realise that you can’t have an abortion in Thailand. It’s illegal.
Great, lets just lay another stone in my way because life wasn’t difficult enough already. Suddenly this whole thing was not only emotionally but practically complicated. Mission imbortiable (thats a mix of abortion and impossible in case you didn’t get that). I honestly considered having the baby because it would be ‘easier’. Yeah that was a bit dumb too.

After a lot of research I found one dodgy little clinic at the end of a dirty alley that illegally did them.
I went with a friend only to hear that it was too early for me as they don’t give out the abortion pill but only do the surgery. The nurse told me to wait 4 weeks, come back and they could suck the baby out.
I cried and screamed at her how the hell would it be possible to continue living with a baby growing inside of me that I knew I’d kill in 4 weeks time? Fucking ridiculous!

Later that day Daniel called. I had spoken to him about this and he was the only one that actually said he would support me if I decided to have the baby. He said he would raise it with me even though it wasn’t his.
He hadn’t let go of our relationship yet and thought this would be a way to stay with me. It would have been so wrong in every sense. He did, however, find the solution. He managed to get abortion pills from a clinic a few hours north of Johannesburg where he was still stuck with the shattered pieces of an ended relationship. He told me he would hide the pills in a birthday card and send them to me via DHL express.

Two days later the card arrived, and the next day I departed for Koh Phangan. From the moment those pills were on the way, but especially once I received them, I emotionally disconnected myself completely from my own pregnancy. I had to. This was the only way to keep on going. The trip down to the island was long and exhausting, I had Minnie with me and travelling with her is never easy. Travelling pregnant in a hot and humid country isn’t easy. But I made it.

The abortion
I arrived at my best friend’s big beautiful villa set in a lush garden. And I arrived on the island where I lived most of my adult years – if any place in this world would be worthy of the name ‘home’, that was it. I thought it would be the most perfect place to have an abortion, as ridiculous as that sounds. The image I had in my head was a lot less traumatising than that of the dodgy backstreet alley clinic in Bangkok.
Once I’d put my bags down and took a few breaths of clean tropical island air I was ready to get started. Get dat baby out of me, end my suffering.

It was horrible having to make that decision, sure – but it was a lot worse knowing I would have to abort this potential child; my potential child. It took a lot of mental focus, thought control and meditation to not have a complete emotional break-down. To pretty much block all emotions from interfering with the decision that I’d made – or that had been made for me by circumstance.

I took the pill and 3 valium thinking it would be better if I’d slept through the process. Yes…. This was clearly not one of my brighter moments.

Three hours later I woke up with a feeling far, far beyond pain. You must imagine my cervix was opening trying to give birth to a dead foetus. Dead because I had already taken progesterone pills one day earlier, which kills foetuses. The pain was unbearable so I started banging my head against the floor hoping to faint. That’s when my good friend Nimrod, who’d also taken valium, slowly and grumpily woke up to call the ambulance. Let me just quickly draw an image of my beloved friend Nim for you. A highly intelligent and morose Polish Israeli that has taken more drugs than anyone I know. He is extremely cynical and also completely detached from his emotions — if something isn’t logical there’s no reason for discussion. Which is a brilliant quality to posses in any other circumstance besides abortion.
He did, however, the one and only thing that made any sense at all: he called the ambulance.
From that moment on, everything was blurry and all I remember was the pain. The sirens of the ambulance and lots of Thais around me. It must have been dramatic but I was in my bubble of pain and the next thing I felt was a needle in my forearm and me drifting into a heaven like feeling. I didn’t know whether I was dying or safe but whatever it was, it was good. It was really really good.

It was morphine.

I woke up in the children’s department, wearing diapers and hanging on the IV drip. The nurses had confiscated the rest of my abortion pills but I still had to take more to complete the process safely.

They told me these pills are illegal and they wouldn’t give them to me. Hanging on the drip and in diapers only, bleeding like a slaughtered pig in the children’s department of that hospital I was about to give up on life. I cried for the 20th time in 2 weeks (even though this time I did push it a little) and told them how dangerous it would be for me if I didn’t take all of the pills, that this process that I started needed to be completed. I read that warning many times online and was really paranoid about it.

One of the nurses eventually had empathy, she gave me back my pills and told me I may never come back to that hospital again. They then called Nimrod who picked me up on his scooter and brought me home wearing only diapers and a scarf covering half of my body.

I had tried to suppress the pain of losing you but on three separate occasions something triggered a sense of loss that I couldn’t ignore. Once, when I found the ultrasound photo of you, another time when I sat on the beach and kids were running around me, and the third time when some drunk girls made thoughtless comments about what they’d do if they fallen pregnant now.

The rest of the time, I was fine. In fact, for some reason I became more sexual than ever before. I started squirting more often. I started exploring more. A few days later I moved to a small hut on a hill overlooking the most beautiful and secluded and magical beach I know – to heal. To heal and become happy again. I needed to be happy again.

And I did, a time of love and romance, lots of LSD, orgies, beauty and inner work had begun. After the worst days of my life, life blessed me with the best months of my life. That was just before I moved to London.

And here I am, sitting in my Shoreditch flat on a rainy and grey summer day.

What is the reason I wrote this long article, digging deep into a time in my life that I don’t want to think about…?
I have recently met someone – fucked someone – actually liked someone. He begged me to have an abortion in case I’d fall pregnant. This was after he’d played out his little fantasy of telling me he wants to come inside of me to “make” a little baby girl (there was more that had been said, which is not for you to know at this point).

I froze for a few moments and then told him to please not come inside of me, thinking this idiot doesn’t know what the fuck he’s actually doing to my overly fertile uterus. He got angry when I told him that an abortion would most likely not happen. He got angry because there was a situation in my hands that he could not control, and trust me, this man NEEDS to be in control. You know, for the love of him (or lust, let’s not mistake the two) I’d have the abortion, just to please him. And to protect my child from him. And just to make everyone’s life easier. But I have realised – I can’t.

I can’t please everyone always. And if everyone will tell me to have the abortion, if they beg me. This time I won’t. An abortion can be an exception for something that was absolutely not the right time and the right circumstance but it can not become a habit for me. I need to take responsibility for my actions. I don’t regret it, it was the wisest decision, it gave me a pain I have never experienced in my life and thats how it made me stronger.

However, a few things like heroin, rape or an abortion are best experienced once and never again, if you’re even destined for it at all. The few weeks of pregnancy also made me realise that I do want a child. Whether I’ll raise it by myself or with a partner (most likely by myself), I want to know the feeling of love that you will only feel for your own child. As exciting as my – especially sexual – life is, I crave another kind of high and that is love, a love so strong it only exists between a mother and her child.