*Now to be realistic, no abortion could really be described as “awesome.” When the body purges itself of an undesirable, be it the flu or an unplanned pregnancy, it’s often an unpleasant, even painful experience, which we mediate with medicines and other techniques. Emotionally, to me, its a similar feeling to starting a painting, maybe impulsively, and at a certain point having to accept that you need to junk it, flip it over and start again. Maybe you’ll use the canvas for something else, or write for a while instead. The most frustrating aspect is that it feels like time and energy that could have been better spent on your other endeavors, but the pain & pleasure of making mistakes is how we learn, and with paint as with love, things sometimes move into directions you never imagined. Which I guess, is kind of the whole point.
1. Before getting pregnant, it’s best to spend a couple of years educating yourself on the history of abortion and contraception, holistic to synthetic. Befriend women of different ages, backgrounds, cultures and socioeconomic positions. You may be surprised to discover that your issues are the issues of many and there is plenty of advice out there to build upon when you look for it. I grew up at a time when the internet was just crawling out of it’s primordial shell, so a lot has changed, and continues changing so fast that you may be reading this when such levels of insularity are but a vague memory in the collective consciousness. If you’re aware of how your body works and what your options are, this greatly reduces the chances that you’ll find yourself unintentionally pregnant, but hey, it happens, so…
2. …if you’re going to accidentally and unintentionally get pregnant, let it be with someone who’s man enough to be a part of the process, to help you with it financially and emotionally, contribute to your research and tend to your discomforts as if they were his own. Yes, I know, these are very hard to find, but they do exist. Men that do not possess these qualities are worth little more than a casual fling IMHO.
3. When the day comes that you sense that you may have conceived, and are aware enough of your cycle that you would notice its lateness within a few days, take a test to confirm. The abortion “pill,” which is actually a few pills (Mifepristone and Misoprostol http://www.fwhc.org/abortion/medical-ab.htm), is prescribed in the US for up to 9 weeks (though legally pregnancy is measured by the last menstrual period, instead of a couple weeks later when ovulation or fertilization would *actually* occur (aka stupid white men making up laws about women’s bodies AGAIN). I have heard it will work much later, though you may have a hard time acquiring it if you are further along than this — at the time I am writing this, there was a case in the news about a woman in New Mexico that obtained it privately rather than with a doctor and miscarried a 5 month pregnancy. The sooner you know the better anyway. While I am staunchly pro-choice, I do feel that the further along the pregnancy, the more difficult physically & emotionally it’s termination will be, so best to nab it early.
4. Despite my failed attempts with herbal methods, I still encourage they’re practice, simply because, some people do experience success with them, and I believe that if more testing was done with herbs, efficacy comparable to that of modern pharmaceuticals could be reached. Nonetheless, if you’re like me and your own herbal attempts at terminating fail, find a private certified female practitioner that takes an integrative approach to women’s health. In my case, the herb shop I was frequenting had her information, and now I understand why.
5. What a contrast to the clinic! She’s also an artist – some of her pieces are up in her office. There’s a buddha statue near the window, and some bamboo. You talk privately for a bit, about self-blame and judgment, and you cry a bit, and it’s good, it’s exactly what you need. Perhaps for years your opinion is that fertility management should be an effortlessly private affair, for which you should be able to get what you need over the counter, cheaply. You say so. She disagrees, she says part of the process needs to be reaching out to one’s community for help, and in so doing, educating and empowering oneself and each other. She approved of my usage of Queen Anne’s Lace, despite my mishap (I seem to have miscalculated my ovulation, or I ovulated later than expected, or ovulated twice). She said in her research with herbs she found that one had to catch things right at or before implantation. After this, pregnancy becomes more tenacious with each passing week.
6. She is going to give you one Mifeprex there in the office, which you take orally. This will inhibit progesterone production, which is necessary to maintain the uterine environment hospitable to a pregnancy. The Misoprostol suppositories are what you will take within 12-72 hours to induce uterine contractions. Her recommendation will be to do this very early in the morning – set your alarm for 6am, insert the pills into your vagina, and then go back to sleep (one needs to lie down until the medicine begins to do its work). This way, it will be daytime when things begin, which is a far less scary time than the night, to feel ill or seek out assistance should you need it. She will also write you a prescription for vicodin to ease the pain from the contractions.
7. Pick up the vicodin at your local pharmacy, and call a friend, preferably sensitive, open-minded, in touch with her mind-body, and possesses a wisdom and awareness of women’s health issues on par to your own (Yes, I know, these are hard to find too). You will want her there when the contractions start, to help with hot water bottles and such. Call your lover, the one with whom you’ve become pregant, for it’s important for him to participate and see what you are going through. If he doesn’t, he’ll have little to no idea what the experience is, and may not attend to you in the way you want & need once it’s over. Arrange a time that they can both be there, ideally before the contractions start. This will be 2-3 hours after you’ve inserted the Misoprostol.
8. When the alarm goes off, insert the pills as directed, take 800 mg ibuprofin and go back to sleep. It will begin in a few hours. Initially it will feel like a heavy period – as soon as you feel a heaviness in your abdomen, it’s time to take the vicodin. Knowing what I know now, I would have popped 3, for the contraactions are intense, and even with 2 they were intense and somewhat painful. Without any vicodin they will be nearly unbearable. (For weeks after I walked around marveling at small children, and the pain that each one’s exit from the womb must represent!) Ask your friend to prepare you some hot water bottles, for the back & front of your abdomen. The Misoprostol will also cause you to vomit, just bile, so have a bowl nearby. As the contractions become more intense she tells you to sigh through them, the way you do sometimes in Yoga vinyasas. It does help you ride them out. The medicine gives you the chills, and you need extra blankets, even though the temperature in the apartment in normal. They sit on either side of you on the bed, holding your hands and you shiver and sigh through the waves of contractions. It last perhaps 1 hour before the waves die down in intensity and frequency. You are exhausted. You sleep.
9. A few hours later, you wake up, surprisingly refreshed and thinking of breakfast; Something light and strengthening, like fresh juice, multi-grain bread, miso soup. Maybe you’ll go bead-shopping with a friend to celebrate.
10. Pouring over brightly colored bits of glass, you start feeling a cramped heaviness in your abdomen and you wish you had brought the vicodin with you. You are still bleeding heavily, clots & liquid, and it is satisfying. You feel that a great burden has been lifted. It’s might be later when you get home that the placenta and embryo or fetus come out. It may freak you out a little bit – you weren’t sure if you would actually see anything — and if it’s earlier than 6 weeks, you may not. If you do find any thing recognizable, it’s good to see it, and even handle it. I photographed it. When you get past the initial ‘ick’, you start to examine what your body is capable of creating, without your conscious effort or logical understanding, and it will awe you. Something I disliked about the clinical abortion was the disconnect — I wondered afterward if it was real, if it had ever happened at all, for I had so little evidence in memory of the actual pregnancy. Carefully fish it out of the toilet with a slotted spoon, and place it in a bowl or cup of water for the time-being. This may leave you drained again, so nap.
11. When you wake up, decide what you would like to do with it. I consider myself spiritual though not religious, and I believe ritual is important. I bought a potted amaryllis, wrapped the fetus & placenta in a lily bloom, and buried it at the base. I ordered a little hand-carved statuette of Mizuko Jizo (The Japanese Deity which resides over travelers, women & unborn children) to live on the dirt above. I apologized and told the spirit I loved it and would like it to return when we’re ready.
Other nice things to do:
-Hire someone to clean the house & do the laundry (or you can do it yourself, but keep in mind the next days are for restoration, so ensure you get continuous does of pampering in some form between such activities)
-Buy yourself a gift that pleases one or more of the 5 senses.
-Go to the sauna and/or get a massage
-Masturbate. Ever find that when you have a steady lover/partner, you occasionally forget to take this time for yourself? I know I do, and then things go off balance. The contractions of orgasm may not only help with any lingering cramps/back pain, but will exacerbate the flow of blood and bolster your endorphin levels
12. The next days may be very emotional as things bubble up and your body’s hormones recalibrate. Reflect, rest, make some artwork, and talk about it with your friends. In my fantasy world I would probably invite friends over to join me in a pagan dance and/or sacred smoke around the amaryllis (or whatever you chose) and cookies after, but my impression is that this is yet a bit much to ask of even the most un-shockable & fun-loving souls. I suspect attitudes will lighten up rapidly as the nature of the process filters through our collective experience from something sad, controversial & traumatic, to a common experience deserving of out attention, respect, humor & humility.
How to have a totally crappy abortion>>
Archive for March, 2010
How to have a Totally Awesome Abortion*
Tuesday, March 2nd, 2010How to have a Totally Crappy Abortion*
Tuesday, March 2nd, 2010
*Now keep in mind, this was way back in 1998, and things are a bit different now that the Abortion Pill (RU-486, also known as Mifeprex or Mifepristone, often prescribed in combination with Misoprostol), is available in the US. At the time I’m writing this, if you’re more than 9 weeks along, you’ll probably have to go the surgical (i.e., icky invasive) route. This doesn’t necessarily mean the process below, but I have a very low opinion of clinics and recommend reading the sister piece to this one, How to Have a Totally Awesome Abortion to understand why.
1. Get pregnant by a cowardly douche-bag that can’t stand the site of blood. Extra points if he’s selfish.
2. Freak the fuck out when you see the positive pregnancy test because the only information you’ve been armed with is media parades of controversy over the subject painting it in a terrifying light. Of course, you should tell no one that could offer some comfort – because for a lot of people it’s a really big deal and they would judge you. You would only regret having brought it up. Rely on aforementioned douche-bag for any sort of emotional assistance. Ask him to pay for half of the procedure despite the fact that you cover the much higher physical toll entirely.
3. Find some clinic that deals with stuff, and don’t spend too much time thinking about it, after all you just want it over with. Call your college health center in tears asking if they offer this sort of service (which they should as part of your health plan, but which they of course don’t, because they’re idiots), they’ll recommend a few clinics to you. When you call the clinic they’ll tell you that you need to be at least 6 weeks along before they can terminate. So you wait, and make the best of it, and feel terribly self-conscious about it for the next few weeks.
4. You might feel conscious of the second spirit, and think out loud that you should treat it well during it’s short time on this earth. Your emotionless, loser of a boyfriend will tell you it’s little more than a parasite and such behavior would be pointless. Give serious consideration to this.
5. Get your doucherific boyfriend to drive you to the clinic the day of. They will recommend not eating for 12 hours before the procedure. You both head out bright and early. Outside the clinic is a rumpled and overgrown looking older gentleman holding up a half-page sized image of a fetus glued to some cardboard. He calls after you both, as you enter, “Give life a chance.”
6. Sit in the waiting room with all the other miserable-looking couples awaiting their turn to fill out paperwork, get a pregnancy test, and settle the balance. Your partner has filled the role of noble provider by scraping together 1/3 of the cost, despite the fact that he has already graduated and you are in school working part-time as a receptionist. Oh wait, that’s right, he’s unemployed. figures. Once you give a urine sample, get shuffled off to another waiting room sans-companion to discuss birth control with a health practitioner. In her pocket is a packet of birth control pills that she taps on with her ballpoint pen to emphasize her instructions. She’s done this many times before, and the pack bears many ballpoint marks left by her patter.
7. Get an ultrasound. Don’t look at the screen, because you’re afraid if you look you might change your mind — you’ve been frequently reminded that life & consciousness are linear & compartmental, not cyclical and interconnected, so the conception occupies something outside the idea of you, despite that you are what it is part of & dependent on. You don’t want to lose your cool, change your mind and subsequently ruin your future and youth by having a kid @19, for whom there may be less than adequate resources to provide for.
8. Round-up time, in waiting room #3. You’ve gotten changed into one of those ridiculous open-back hospital gowns, complete with slippers & a cap to match, and hand over your sharpie-labeled bag of personal belongings to one of the sympathetic-looking ladies in scrubs. Flip through the magazines a bit, watch some of the music videos playing on the CRT mounted in the corner of the room. Devo is playing. Chat with the other girls. There is a sense of comradery, but it is gloomy.
9. Showtime! Go into the operating room, get on the soft plastic & paper-covered table, put your legs up in the plastic stirrups. They’ll put a cloth down between your legs to spare you a bit of dignity while various aids move about around you preparing. The nurse at left puts an IV in your arm. The anesthesia works quickly.
10. You are waking up in the recovery room, opposite some of the same girls you remember from the waiting room, also groggily attempting to sit up in hospital beds. There is something soft between your legs. A nurse pushes up the back of your bed up roughly so you’re in a sitting position. The anesthesia has made you nauseous and disoriented. You ask for a moment and she says ‘no honey, you’ve got to get up, everyone’s got to get up.’ You ask if it is over and she says ‘yes it is honey, you’re fine’ and gives you a pat. She begins physically coaxing you up out of the bed despite your protests. The pad between your legs falls to the ground, white but for a small red blob in the middle. She picks it up and hands it to you. It’s difficult to walk. She supports you as you clumsily settle into a chair in the next room. She brings you some ritz crackers and ginger-ale. It’s difficult to chew; commands from your brain don’t seem to be getting distributed to the rest of you body. Another girl is being gingerly led by a nurse towards your chair, and you realize it’s time for your next move down the reassembly line. You get up without physical direction this time. You give a woman your name and she hands your belongings, and a bag in which to vomit, if necessary. You make your way through a row of dressing rooms to one unoccupied. You’ve put on your warm-ups and are busy figuring out your bra when the taste of warm bile wells up in your throat, as you look around for the bag, finding it just in time. Upon hearing your wretching, a nurse flings open the curtain, looks, frowns, then shuts the curtain again. You finish getting dressed, and go out towards the waiting room with another couple of girls.
11. The Waiting room is nearly empty, except for your boyfriend, who gives you a slightly bewildered look as he gets up. You both enter the elevator. One of the girls you chatted with gets into the elevator too. She is alone. I guess you ought not to complain. In the car he asks if you want to get something to eat. You shake your head, arms crossed over your queasy stomach. You just want to go home and lie down. Anesthesia is so miserable.
12. Back in your apartment you curl up in bed in the fetal position. You ask him if he can go buy you some pads, to which he balks bodily, then consents. You request something thin but he comes back with the bulkiest thing available, shrugging that he didn’t know what to look for. Still curled up he asks if you need anything else. You shake your head, and he replies that he’s going back to his apartment.
13. Bleed.
14. Spend the next several months yearning to talk about what happened, wishing he would ask you something, anything about the experience. Wonder if it ever happened, given how little tangible evidence you have after the fact. As for the unsettled balance of the procedure’s cost, wait patiently for him to take the initiative to pay you back at the very least enough to cover 1/2 the $350 it cost to have your insides scooped out. Ask him to cover 1/2 the cost of birth control moving forward, to prevent a rerun of this ordeal. Accept defeat when he vehemently argues against this, and tell yourself that relationships are about sacrifice — a great test of your patience, which you will pass, damnit. For the glossy magazines and tv say it’s so important to have a boyfriend. Express your anger at his dismissive and selfish behavior by being passive-aggressive. Break up multiple times, only to get back together because you’re lonely, since you haven’t bothered to cultivate many friendships during the 2 years you’ve been with him. Finally, after 2 years, dump his trifling ass, and feel rotten and angry about the entire lousy experience for years to come.
15. Years later he may come along googling you and groveling with a long email apology. The old ignorant self-centeredness you remember is apparent in his writing, despite the obsequiousness. In my opinion, life is too short to bother acknowledging losers like this.
16. Read, research, learn. It will help to get taken under the wing of older swinger & artist in platonic mentor relationship where you’ll learn that not all men are total creeps, and that there are a great multitude of ways in which people relate to each other, beyond the simplicities you’ve gleaned from the mass-media.
17. Heal.
How to have a totally awesome abortion>>
1. Get pregnant by a cowardly douche-bag that can’t stand the site of blood. Extra points if he’s selfish.
2. Freak the fuck out when you see the positive pregnancy test because the only information you’ve been armed with is media parades of controversy over the subject painting it in a terrifying light. Of course, you should tell no one that could offer some comfort – because for a lot of people it’s a really big deal and they would judge you. You would only regret having brought it up. Rely on aforementioned douche-bag for any sort of emotional assistance. Ask him to pay for half of the procedure despite the fact that you cover the much higher physical toll entirely.
3. Find some clinic that deals with stuff, and don’t spend too much time thinking about it, after all you just want it over with. Call your college health center in tears asking if they offer this sort of service (which they should as part of your health plan, but which they of course don’t, because they’re idiots), they’ll recommend a few clinics to you. When you call the clinic they’ll tell you that you need to be at least 6 weeks along before they can terminate. So you wait, and make the best of it, and feel terribly self-conscious about it for the next few weeks.
4. You might feel conscious of the second spirit, and think out loud that you should treat it well during it’s short time on this earth. Your emotionless, loser of a boyfriend will tell you it’s little more than a parasite and such behavior would be pointless. Give serious consideration to this.
5. Get your doucherific boyfriend to drive you to the clinic the day of. They will recommend not eating for 12 hours before the procedure. You both head out bright and early. Outside the clinic is a rumpled and overgrown looking older gentleman holding up a half-page sized image of a fetus glued to some cardboard. He calls after you both, as you enter, “Give life a chance.”
6. Sit in the waiting room with all the other miserable-looking couples awaiting their turn to fill out paperwork, get a pregnancy test, and settle the balance. Your partner has filled the role of noble provider by scraping together 1/3 of the cost, despite the fact that he has already graduated and you are in school working part-time as a receptionist. Oh wait, that’s right, he’s unemployed. figures. Once you give a urine sample, get shuffled off to another waiting room sans-companion to discuss birth control with a health practitioner. In her pocket is a packet of birth control pills that she taps on with her ballpoint pen to emphasize her instructions. She’s done this many times before, and the pack bears many ballpoint marks left by her patter.
7. Get an ultrasound. Don’t look at the screen, because you’re afraid if you look you might change your mind — you’ve been frequently reminded that life & consciousness are linear & compartmental, not cyclical and interconnected, so the conception occupies something outside the idea of you, despite that you are what it is part of & dependent on. You don’t want to lose your cool, change your mind and subsequently ruin your future and youth by having a kid @19, for whom there may be less than adequate resources to provide for.
8. Round-up time, in waiting room #3. You’ve gotten changed into one of those ridiculous open-back hospital gowns, complete with slippers & a cap to match, and hand over your sharpie-labeled bag of personal belongings to one of the sympathetic-looking ladies in scrubs. Flip through the magazines a bit, watch some of the music videos playing on the CRT mounted in the corner of the room. Devo is playing. Chat with the other girls. There is a sense of comradery, but it is gloomy.
9. Showtime! Go into the operating room, get on the soft plastic & paper-covered table, put your legs up in the plastic stirrups. They’ll put a cloth down between your legs to spare you a bit of dignity while various aids move about around you preparing. The nurse at left puts an IV in your arm. The anesthesia works quickly.
10. You are waking up in the recovery room, opposite some of the same girls you remember from the waiting room, also groggily attempting to sit up in hospital beds. There is something soft between your legs. A nurse pushes up the back of your bed up roughly so you’re in a sitting position. The anesthesia has made you nauseous and disoriented. You ask for a moment and she says ‘no honey, you’ve got to get up, everyone’s got to get up.’ You ask if it is over and she says ‘yes it is honey, you’re fine’ and gives you a pat. She begins physically coaxing you up out of the bed despite your protests. The pad between your legs falls to the ground, white but for a small red blob in the middle. She picks it up and hands it to you. It’s difficult to walk. She supports you as you clumsily settle into a chair in the next room. She brings you some ritz crackers and ginger-ale. It’s difficult to chew; commands from your brain don’t seem to be getting distributed to the rest of you body. Another girl is being gingerly led by a nurse towards your chair, and you realize it’s time for your next move down the reassembly line. You get up without physical direction this time. You give a woman your name and she hands your belongings, and a bag in which to vomit, if necessary. You make your way through a row of dressing rooms to one unoccupied. You’ve put on your warm-ups and are busy figuring out your bra when the taste of warm bile wells up in your throat, as you look around for the bag, finding it just in time. Upon hearing your wretching, a nurse flings open the curtain, looks, frowns, then shuts the curtain again. You finish getting dressed, and go out towards the waiting room with another couple of girls.
11. The Waiting room is nearly empty, except for your boyfriend, who gives you a slightly bewildered look as he gets up. You both enter the elevator. One of the girls you chatted with gets into the elevator too. She is alone. I guess you ought not to complain. In the car he asks if you want to get something to eat. You shake your head, arms crossed over your queasy stomach. You just want to go home and lie down. Anesthesia is so miserable.
12. Back in your apartment you curl up in bed in the fetal position. You ask him if he can go buy you some pads, to which he balks bodily, then consents. You request something thin but he comes back with the bulkiest thing available, shrugging that he didn’t know what to look for. Still curled up he asks if you need anything else. You shake your head, and he replies that he’s going back to his apartment.
13. Bleed.
14. Spend the next several months yearning to talk about what happened, wishing he would ask you something, anything about the experience. Wonder if it ever happened, given how little tangible evidence you have after the fact. As for the unsettled balance of the procedure’s cost, wait patiently for him to take the initiative to pay you back at the very least enough to cover 1/2 the $350 it cost to have your insides scooped out. Ask him to cover 1/2 the cost of birth control moving forward, to prevent a rerun of this ordeal. Accept defeat when he vehemently argues against this, and tell yourself that relationships are about sacrifice — a great test of your patience, which you will pass, damnit. For the glossy magazines and tv say it’s so important to have a boyfriend. Express your anger at his dismissive and selfish behavior by being passive-aggressive. Break up multiple times, only to get back together because you’re lonely, since you haven’t bothered to cultivate many friendships during the 2 years you’ve been with him. Finally, after 2 years, dump his trifling ass, and feel rotten and angry about the entire lousy experience for years to come.
15. Years later he may come along googling you and groveling with a long email apology. The old ignorant self-centeredness you remember is apparent in his writing, despite the obsequiousness. In my opinion, life is too short to bother acknowledging losers like this.
16. Read, research, learn. It will help to get taken under the wing of older swinger & artist in platonic mentor relationship where you’ll learn that not all men are total creeps, and that there are a great multitude of ways in which people relate to each other, beyond the simplicities you’ve gleaned from the mass-media.
17. Heal.
How to have a totally awesome abortion>>