The following post is a memoir involving ethical discussion and may offend certain viewpoints on abortion. Please be forwarned of this delicate content and should you find personal altercation with issues raised you can email me personally firstname.lastname@example.org or exit site and go to a nice one with happy rose coloured glasses attached.
Thank you for your understanding
All The Ex had to do was take one look at my tearsoaked face and he knew the answer to the pregnancy issue. Stupidly shaking even though - it was not cold. Just the beggining of the Ice Age.
I shrugged hopelessly, as I slid down the wall. No words could ever do justice to the despair and looming I felt. Not then and not now. Not with you could I begin to tell you how I came to the choice I did. I do not want to justify. It was a personal decision.
I had walked all afternoon, a million thoughts had jammed their way into my subconscious. The one thought I kept having though was devastating. I could not have this baby. My face was red and swollen and I felt totally alien to myself. This compounded with a fetus growing inside me, suspended in aprehension.
I was just a baby myself. Freshly 20. This baby I could never offer the best. I didn’t want one of those babies born addicted to opiates, screaming all day and all night. I couldnt promise that I was able to dig myself out of this addiction, I doubted I would have the energy to quit in time . Would it be born with a deformity? I think I knew who the father was. But, and it hurts to type.. I could never be sure. I mean what if, it was that time with the dealer. What if it was that time I thought the condom worked ? Didn't it?
It didn’t seem fair to bring some other person into my life of misery. Due to my own neglect, at the hands of my birth mother, it was crucial to me that I provided my own children with nothing but the best. I understood that sometimes, things can’t be perfect in order to have a child either. But things were far from safe needless to say ideal. I was fresh out of excuses. I’m not having the baby “I said flatly.
The Ex just nodded slowly then became sad , before saying " We could do it, me and you - but ..." he trailed off.
"Exactly " I thought, there are too many buts.
I grabbed my purse and walked off to score, it was the only thing that would set my mind at ease and for that moment that’s all I cared about. The Ex understood and let me take the rent money. I wanted to get frozen.
It was heading on night and I sat in the bustop, mulling over my choices. I was becoming increasingly frustrated with The Ex. He no longer showered regularly and I don’t remember the last time he owned a toothbrush, much less used one. It must have been about seven months I estimated. This was just one of many outstanding health issues with The Ex. The alcohol was slowly poisoning him and making his liver weak. He would often claim suicide was the only option to truly set me free. I never agreed, but he was definitely not father material at this stage of his life. I felt repulsed at how we were living. Did we no longer care about ourselves out of apathy or pure hopelessness?
I remember stroking my hands over my belly and talking to my baby there. I spoke of a time we would be together. It could not be now. It could not be then. We would meet again. Rest that beautiful soul.
After scoring, I went down to the payphone and dialed family planning. “I need to speak to someone I’m pregnant and ...I faltered “I don’t intend on keeping the baby. It kind of came out in one rush. Seeing abortion is illegal in my home state, she politely informed me I would have to make a visit in to see them and have counselling and approval to get the “procedure”. She advised me to carry on daily life as if I was intending to keep the baby. Did that include having three hundred dollars worth of dope a day? The next few weeks rolled by in a horrible haze. My breasts were large and subsequently this helped me in the escort business. I managed to squirrel away some money, so I could take a few days off after the abortion.
It was in this time, I met Partner In Crime . She was 21, a few months older than me. I like to remember her as a gorgeous girl with the heart of a lion. She was petite, olive skinned and had a fiery Spanish temper. I met her in the city one night after we scored for her. I made sure we scored all her dope from then on, to try and woo her into helping me work. She was mostly happy to join me and we worked out a nice little trade together. Her sexy, petite figure and her down to earth nature complimented my genteel but no nonsense manner. Together we were an overnight success. To be honest, there were many girls who helped me through the rough times.
I remember them putting their bodies on the line while we where both sick. Squeezing each others hands as we sweated through another horrible job we didn’t want to do. Between us both, we easily made over $ 250, 000 dollars over the time we knew each other. That’s just a modest guess. I never saved any of this money, rather blew it all up the arm. As we say. In the meantime, I was struggling with one of the sickest periods of my life.
In the grey and early hours of the morning I would be heaving pure bile into the toilet. I know this was morning sickness now, but then I thought I was dying. It felt like the baby had given up hope as much as I had. Pains. Terrible pains.
Every inch of my face bloodshot and contorted from two hours straight of heaving. The gear going around did not seem to do as much anymore, no matter how hard I worked, no matter how much I bought. I was literally injecting myself to death. With the morning sickness I was using double, in order to keep working through the day and into the night. The baby was taking all my energy and I guessed I was at nearly two months pregnant and in the full throes of morning sickness. The Ex would sit beside the toilet patiently and try to feed me water to stop me blacking out.
I would slam it away, bile and glass shattering at my feet. I would be delirious, trying to yell in between heaving.“Call!” I would choke out...tears and tiredness making me very weak.
" I can’t call! "he would scream, his voice harsh from strangulated tears and just tiredness.
“No one is on – its only seven o clock in the morning baby!”
He would plead for me to see sense and to stop screaming out for heroin at the top of my lungs. But I was delirious. I remember I blacked out again and I woke in the shower, The Ex's arms around me. His pupils were dilated and black so I knew he was sick as well. But. I did not care. He was always very sick in the morning due to the amount of alcohol consumed the night before. So together we waited it out, both fully clothed in the warm shower, shivering and drifting in and out of consciousness. I was sitting in his lap. “Call” I murmured. He stroked my head “She knows to come here first and she will ok”.
I stayed in the shower with a towel to spit on and waited for that knock on the door.
I still remember how bad it felt , minutes creeping like black spiders over my mind.
Knock Knock. It's her. Omg, it's like I have the shot right now. Sweet relief.
I remember hearing it and hearing a flurry of activity. I could hear the jingle jangle of The Lady Dealer's gold jewellery, her expensive jewellery. I then heard the clamber of metal spoon and The Ex yelling out to me to hang on. I was spewing again - blood.
I remember feeling the blood coming out and I was heaving into the bowl, over and over. I was saying hi to > and then the next thing I was over the toilet bowl, nothing coming out just my stomach in a tense knot trying to squeeze anything out.
I can still remember, The Ex raising a limp arm above my head.
Slapping my inner arm. Slap Slap. Lifeless and pasty. Slap Slap. Rag doll.
I was half immersed in the vomit spattered toilet bowl and then I felt it, I felt the needle prick my skin then sink in deep, then the insidious relief of the heroin flow through my veins, down my arm and surge through my aching body.
I slumped back against the bathroom wall.
I was back online.
To be continued x HG