Mark Twain once said there are only two certainties in life: death and taxes. However, for most women, there is a third: their period. This natural cycle occurs, usually like clockwork, and while a nuisance and often deeply disruptive, my period has often been the most stable and consistent aspect of my life. And here is another certainty of life: pregnancy stems from a period. While there are many steps to get from a menstrual cycle to the fertilization of an egg, it is a natural process. And when wanted or not, a period, or rather the lack of one, can entail a pregnancy.
Contraceptives are available for people who want to prevent pregnancy. There are around twelve types of contraceptives, ranging from condoms, birth control (the pill), IUDs, and implants, as more permanent, low maintenance contraceptives. While convenient, these methods of birth control can also be invasive. Plan B, or the morning after pill, can be very disruptive to a female’s physical health due to the immediate change of hormones. Additionally, all hormonal contraceptives can affect people in unpleasant ways, which leads women to prefer condoms or, unfortunately, the ‘old, never reliable’, pull-out method.
Although contraceptives are reliable, shit happens. Between paying taxes, avoiding death, and securing a coffee, you may find yourself missing something. No, not like your dog. Your subconscious rhythm is disrupted. And even before you know why, you can feel something being off. Walking through the square, looking at a calendar, trying to figure out what meeting you missed, you pinpoint the longing feeling. It is the time in your “oh how I love being a woman” monthly routine of stealing tampons from the Harvard facilities to cash in on whatever you are paying for, and you haven’t done it yet. Eh, periods are late, I’m tired, overworked, not well nourished…
Having a pregnancy scare is like the tide—it ebbs and flows. If you are like me, and standardly unwell, it gets lost in the thick of it all. Ask most sexually active women, these things happen, we become jaded. The danger of habituation is its dichotomy: sensitization, but until then, “phew.” We laugh it off, throw out the negative test, and next. However, sometimes the bit must achieve fruition (we laugh because it’s true so now):
First comes the initial jump scare—lips pursed, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed, and a slightly confused:
“Oh.”
It is followed by a knowing “Oohh,” as the brain fog clears. And undeniably, the two lines stare back at you.
“Classic.”
I’m pretty good with conflict. I don’t actively welcome it into my circle, but I feel a sense of pride when I handle it. Someone once told me to “get comfortable with being uncomfortable,” and while I abhor the cliché, I have grown to appreciate the sentiment. To keep things interesting, I keep things funny. The best way to get material is through adversity: a good story. So instead of thinking “why me?” I thought, “Of course me!” because someone needs to be the statistic.
It’s all shits and giggles until you are sending an email subjected “Extenuating Circumstances” to your advisor, for the first time feeling quite justified calling this circumstance extenuating. Then I went to lecture.
Nothing screams pick-me girl like a pregnancy. But nothing also screams pick-me girl quite like an abortion. However, I’m an independent, strong, capable woman, and even when a man’s sperm makes a mistake, I don’t need a man; I need a friend to fact check. We were pacing in the bathroom, dancing around the two lines, laughing, nodding, and saying “okay, okay,” confirming the present information.
The question of abortion was never a question of if, but when.
Luckily, abortion is legal in the state of Massachusetts which makes the answer easy: as soon as possible. I made an appointment for three days later at HUHS. Until then, I was in my maternity era: eating for two, drinking for two, the whole works. I was focused on staying on top of things, as I assumed courses wouldn’t be as flexible as needed with my circumstances. Handling an abortion is more indicative of womanhood than the abortion itself…a man throws a problem in your lap and you are left trying to control the collateral damage, with the assurance that no one is going to help out.
The procedure seemed easy. I went to the doctor, listened, signed a form, took a pill, and picked up a prescription. The experience was quite seamless: women supporting women. 24 hours later sitting at my dorm room desk, I took the second pill and waited patiently, anxiously. I was told what to expect: a bad period. Heavy bleeding, heavy cramping. Wear pads for the first few days so you can monitor blood loss. If you are in relentless pain for 30 plus minutes, call 911…
I consider myself someone with a decent pain tolerance. Without disclosing much, between you in me, I can handle pain. So, I was obviously apprehensive, but I remember being confident in my abilities to tackle this beast.
“I am woman hear me roar.” And I did.
Within minutes after taking the second pill, I was crawling to the bathroom. Despite making it to the toilet, my vomit lacked aim. I was somehow both hot and cold—spazzing, gasping for air, contorting my limbs, and regurgitating. Two friends came to rescue me, clean me, and carry me. And as I saw God, writhing in bed, I heard my friend say as they paced back and forth, “When does this turn into relentless?”
Specifics are fuzzy. I know I threw up on a shoe, they brought me a massive bag of ice upon request, and I got some head scratches. Just a lot of blood and cramps.
The cramps and bleeding lasted a long time. Manageable. But apparently, Harvard isn’t super into the pick-me girl pregnancy thing. Unmanageable. It was impossible to get help from professors without being extremely direct about my situation. I don’t mind over sharing, and was comfortable talking to strangers about this, but it was frustrating how much I had to prove to get the smallest accommodation. In my mind, terminations are normalized. But I know that is not the true norm. In my mind, having gotten an abortion empowered me. I felt autonomous, brave, in control. It ignited a flame, a female glow perhaps. Many believe giving birth is one of the most beautiful processes and happenings on this Earth: life changing. I agree, and I dare to add, so is abortion. Not life changing in the “I displaced cells, I will never be morally sound” way. Conversely, in the vein of equality and strength.
It is my body, and I chose.
Family Planning Resources: https://huhs.harvard.edu/mount-auburn-obstetrics-and-gynecology-huhs#gsc.tab=0