Memory's Of Abortion Not Even A Teen Yet.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
As you may see there is no method to my writing. It's all a jumble, much like my life has always been. This is before I ran away, before I discovered daddy's little girls don't all preform sex acts with him.

Submitted: July 30, 2012

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Submitted: July 30, 2012



The year is 1972  and I am 12 years old.   Just barely  familiar with the beginnings of womanhood properly, familiarities with monthly cycles  and changes a young body goes through during these times.   Let alone recognizing pregnancy.

 I kept a diary, and never ever thought or worried that my mom may read it.  But she did.  As  well as finding my practice of trying to copy her signature. 

I was in 7th grade, smoking cigs and had tried marijuana.  We lived across the street from a huge park called Cherry Hill and my friends & I loved hanging out there, the tornado slide was so fast with the help of wax paper under our rumps. The swings with two seats one on each end of the T pole we knew how to fly !  

There were two softball fields and a wading pool . When it rained we loved slopping in the mud and playing tag then running and jumping into the pool to rinse off and splash all the more.  Turn around and do it again !

I had written in my diary that I felt something strange and wondered if my period was supposed to stop like that.

Let me tell you a bit about my mom.   She wasn't ever hard to read. And her moods were extreme.   She had happy and playful.  Rarely. Another was ( I recognize now that I'm old )  times where she'd be in bed all day, except to prepare dinner. So, depression. And then there were her moods of anger and rage and I don't think my brothers were  ever her targets at these times.

Only me.  

She knew, and no one can convince me otherwise . She knew what my dad was doing to me, with me.   I believe it was known to her from the start and I was the sacrificial lamb. 

I always went straight home from school and always with a knot in my stomach, wondering who she'd be when I walked in.   This particular day I had stopped in the next door neighbors yard and that's when my mom marched out with dye in her hair and a belt in hand and beat me across the yard, into the house and pinned me by my throat against  the wall calling me  " a dirty little whore " . She went on to telling me through clenched teeth that  I had an appointment with the doctor and if I were found to be pregnant she'd fix it. 

I was afraid, my mind raced and I felt trapped.   " Fix it " ? What could that mean !!!?  I found out after the test showed me to be 12 1 / 2  weeks pregnant.  Abortion. 

 I was pregnant. I still went to school and I  acted carelessly.   I hanged myself over uneven bars,  beat myself in the stomach. Then at night in the shower I'd look at my slight baby bump and  rub it lovingly.

At 14 1 / 2 weeks pregnant mom  and I took out for a road  trip. From Iowa to Albuquerque New Mexico .  Long  trip when it could have been done just 30 miles away and for  much cheaper.   It was as if we were going on a pleasure trip ! 

Abortions back then were different than today.   The clinic inserted a balloon inside me, now don't quote me. Remember,  this was 39 years ago and I was just a week before my 13th birthday.  

I was sedated, told I'd feel some cramping.......and a nurse held my hand and talked calmly and soothing to me.   I felt the  " cramping" then a sound, cramping, sound  for what seemed a very long time to me.  


That  cramping was my baby being torn apart from inside me. That sound was my baby, piece by piece being dropped into a bucket for disposal. 

The rest is another story .

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