Last June I discovered I was pregnant. This unwanted news was a shock. The previous December I had been fitted along with an IUD, a contraceptive I understood to be a lot more effective compared to the pill. I joined a long-term relationship. I believed the IUD was the perfect twentysomething woman’s way of protection versus unwanted pregnancy. I would certainly not have actually to worry regarding missing a pill. I would certainly not have actually to worry regarding anything.
Since graduating from Trinity College Dublin, I had become steadily lonelier and unfulfilled at work. So I put my late period down to stress, combined along with the IUD making my cycle much less regular.
I went to Spain for a holiday along with my boyfriend. As the holiday ended I convinced myself that the nausea, dizziness and anxiety I was feeling joined anticipation of my return to “real” adult life. Three days after arriving home, I was much less sure. By that stage I had been nearly eight weeks free of a period. I had vomited one morning on holiday. Afterwards I laughed, saying to my boyfriend, “Getting sick in the morning? Chance I’m not pregnant!” He laughed too. I had an IUD. I was protected.
Without telling my boyfriend, I decided to do a pregnancy test after job to eradicate the tiny doubt festering at the spine of my mind. I would certainly tell my boyfriend later. ‘’Guess exactly what I did earlier? A pregnancy test, ha-ha. Merely because I still felt nauseous and, you know, along with my period being late . . . I know, silly, right?’’
Buying a pregnancy test was daunting. I bought a bottle of Johnson’s baby shampoo, along along with my test. To make it look like I already had a baby at home. To pretend I was a responsible, mature woman buying a test to locate out if a sibling for the baby was on the way. I decided to Get hold of an Indian for dinner and consume it at estate watching Game of Thrones. I would certainly go to the restaurant bathroom and do the test while waiting for my food. In the queue, a toddler smiled and giggled at me from her mother’s arms.
I peed on the stick. The flow came out too tough and some urine got on the screen. The instructions warned that this could render the test invalid. Two minutes passed. I looked at the test. Did a double line mean positive? It did. I looked spine at the test.
No. Merely no. I had peed on the screen. It was an invalid test, thank God. However, I would certainly have actually to do a second, provided this test was faulty. If only I had a penis I would certainly have actually been able to pee along with accuracy. I laughed out loud at this. If I had a penis, I would certainly not be in an Indian restaurant toilet, holding an own-brand pregnancy test, waiting for a No 35 (chicken tikka masala) and a No 53 (Peshwari naan).
Test No 2
Luckily there was a small pharmacy beside my home where I got an additional test. spine home, I took long gulps of water. Then in to the bathroom. I waited. I read the instructions. A cross this time would certainly symbolise a positive test. The seconds stretched on. I glanced down.
There was a cross.
That meant it was positive. A positive test? Two positive tests? No, definitely the initial one was faulty. It was only one positive test. But, one valid positive test was one valid positive test too many. No. No, I couldn’t be. It need to be a false positive. I refused to believe it was possible.
Frantic internet searches on my phone for “false positive pregnancy test.” Words jumped out at me. Words like “rare” and “unlikely”.
I ignored them. I scanned for reasons. Ovarian cancer. Pituitary disorders. The a lot more I read, the a lot more I convinced myself, that I could have actually ovarian cancer. This seemed a much much better alternative compared to pregnancy. Cancer was treatable, right? Treatable in Ireland by medical professionals, and nothing to be ashamed of, no difficult decisions involved. How surreal, I remember thinking, that I was standing in my bathroom wishing I had cancer.
I went out to meet my boyfriend and to buy an additional test. As we crossed the road I blurted it out: “I did a test and . . . ”
“You’re pregnant?” he said.
“Yes. No,” I corrected myself. “I believe it’s a false positive. I believe I have actually cancer.”
I explained my theory. Now that I was along with him, I felt sure I couldn’t be pregnant. Apart from nausea I didn’t feel ill, so the cancer need to be at the earlier stages and I would certainly be great once treated. I couldn’t be pregnant, I told my boyfriend, I have actually an IUD.
Back to the clinic
He convinced me not to buy an additional test. We decided I would certainly go spine to the clinic where the IUD had been fitted and Get hold of a blood test done. We went together. The doctor explained blood examinations took time and were expensive. A simple urine test in her office today would certainly make every little thing clear. I did the test. A couple of minutes later I heard her say: “Yeah, Claire, you’re surely pregnant.”
I broke the awful silence by bursting in to noisy sobs.
“I’ll leave you two alone for a minute,” the doctor said strolling towards the door.
“Go to her,” she whispered to my boyfriend, nodding her head in my direction. My boyfriend, stunned by the news, was glued to his chair. I couldn’t stop the tears and shakes as he held me tight versus him.
The doctor came spine in to talk logistics. Counselling classes were provided devoid of charge in the clinic. One was arranged for the next day.
How could this be happening? I had an IUD. The doctor explained I had been rather unlucky. It could have actually fallen out or it could still be there. If it was still there then there was a one in two opportunity that the pregnancy was ectopic. I could discuss choices along with the counsellor tomorrow.
I remember thinking how ridiculous it was that my medical condition and my medical choices had to be discussed along with a counsellor, and not along with a medical professional right here, right now. The word “abortion” hung unspoken in the air.
My boyfriend and I went to a cafe to talk. exactly what were my options? Our options? I had constantly been pro-choice. If a woman found herself pregnant, and did not wish to be, I felt she ought to be allowed to have actually an abortion. She ought to have actually that choice.
And yet I was on the fence concerning exactly what I would certainly do personally. I believed in choice Yet I did not know if termination was a choice I could make. My private thoughts on the matter tended to focus on the philosophical and emotional. As soon as thinking regarding whether I could have actually an abortion, I constantly circled spine to the question of As soon as a “life” began. Religion and science did not provide me reasons to swing either way. Yet this was the point I focused on in hypothetical conversations, in a nonpregnant state. I was constantly aware that people that said they would certainly “never” do this or would certainly “definitely” do that were being obtuse in their thinking. No one knows for sure exactly what they would certainly do in a situation until they are in it. And now I was facing this situation. The abortion fence I had been sitting on prior to had been a theoretical one. Now, I had to make a decision. Which edge of the fence was I going to land?
In the hospital, a nurse came in to provide us the result of my fourth pregnancy test. “Yes, you are pregnant,” she said along with a delighted smile. I was too emotionally drained to react either way. My face didn’t change. My boyfriend gave her an incredulous look.
In contrast, the doctor that I saw next seemed aware that this was not a wanted pregnancy. She knew she was checking for an ectopic pregnancy and attempting to locate the IUD. She called my name. As we both stood up, she snapped that my boyfriend ought to wait in the room. After ordering me up on the examination table, she began the scan. I glanced at the screen. I could see the unmistakable roundness of a head and a shape that looked like a physique underneath. The distinctive roundness of the head shook me. That was inside me. It was biologically half of me. I stared at it and tried my hardest not to well up in front of this cold doctor.
“It’s not ectopic,” she said. There was no warmth in her voice. “So you want the IUD taken out, yes? You are aware there’s a opportunity that this can easily cause a miscarriage?”
I nodded. She left the room. It wasn’t ectopic. I closed my eyes lest the tears begin. It wasn’t ectopic. I prayed that the removal of the IUD would certainly likewise take out this unwanted . . . thing . . . foetus . . . whatever. That it would certainly take the decision from my hands.
As she examined me, I braced myself for the pain of removal. Yet it didn’t come. She performed an additional scan to look for the IUD. This time I did not check out the screen. “It’s not there,” she said. It was arranged that a higher-resolution scan would certainly be performed the next day. I left the room, more unhappy compared to before. Not ectopic? Where was the IUD? How could I not have actually felt it come out? can easily I sue if it’s not there? My boyfriend, along with his law degree, didn’t believe so. We left the hospital frustrated, angry and miserable.
Healthy pregnancy
“I’m sorry, I can’t provide you proper short article regarding exactly what you can easily do.” This was the doctor at the second scan, where it was confirmed the IUD had probably fallen out free of my realising. I had gone alone to this appointment.
“Do you know how to Get hold of to England? You know how to access that information?” This doctor, this human being, clearly wanted to insight me. How ridiculous it was that he had to speak in code. How backwards that he couldn’t provide me the medical choices in his professional capacity. That he couldn’t even refer me to a person that could. I nodded, thanking him.
“How old is the foetus?” I asked. Whatever choice I made, I would certainly have to know how far along I was.
“Oh,” he said turning spine to the now-empty screen, “I didn’t even check for that.” He had automatically assumed I would certainly Get hold of an abortion. He didn’t wish to tell me short article regarding the foetus that could cause me further distress.
“I would certainly estimate it’s eight weeks. It’s a totally Healthy and balanced and normal pregnancy,” he said. This upset me. Seeing my face change, he added: “provided your age, how far along you are, and its placement in the womb I would certainly say there’s a 2-3 per cent opportunity of a miscarriage. So don’t make decisions banking on that.”
I appreciated his candour. He was giving me as much short article as he was legally allowed to insight me make my choice.
The words “totally normal and healthy” haunted me as I stepped from the office and in to the June sunshine, and again I burst in to tears. I was eight weeks in to a normal, Healthy and balanced pregnancy. A month ago I had turned 23.
Not prepared for a baby
Keeping the baby was not an option. I was Merely from college. I hadn’t settled in the working world. I had been along with my boyfriend much less compared to 18 months. We did not live together. He had likewise Merely turned 23.
I did not know if I wanted to tie myself to your man for the rest of my life. I didn’t wish to be a single mum. I lived payslip to payslip. I had no savings. I lived in a tiny, single-bedroom along with two flatmates. I wanted my freedom as a young adult. I did not wish to make selections based about a tiny human baby. I was not prepared for a baby. I did not wish to commit lifelong devotion to anything, never mind a person, at my young age.
Adoption? The tip was heartbreaking. My dad, Jim Woods, had been a classic victim of Irish adoption. His birth certificate was falsified. He still doesn’t have actually any clue that his birth parents were. (We believe his birthdate is June 1st, 1961, and we know he was born in St Rita’s Nursing Home, Sandford Road, in Ranelagh, Dublin. If anybody has actually any short article regarding your man please email ringle@irishtimes.com.)
A tearful confession to my mum, and two a lot more counselling sessions later, I still could not decide. My sobbing mantra in counselling sessions was: “I don’t wish to be pregnant and have actually a baby. I don’t wish to have actually an abortion.” The shock of the news took a long time to absorb. I was especially good at compartmentalising, which for studying, or going out As soon as I ought to be studying, had been rather useful. Yet I was using this ability to steer clear of focusing on my pregnancy. This was difficult provided that my nausea was constantly along with me. I discovered that morning sickness was a wildly inaccurate term. I got sick most mornings free of fall short Yet was liable to Get hold of sick at any time. Anything could set me off. The constant nausea made it difficult forget regarding the pregnancy.
As the weeks passed, I made and unmade my decision. Waking up each morning, my pregnancy screamed at me for attention. The morning sickness intensified and a timetable began. I would certainly run to the bathroom, and retch repeatedly. Each time I vomited, tears likewise hit the toilet bowl. My boyfriend would certainly follow along with a hairband and a glass. He would certainly tie up my hair and, as I switched between vomiting and crying, he would certainly fill up the glass along with water. a lot more often compared to not I would certainly vomit up the water. Yet this was much better compared to the foul-tasting bile. I would certainly cry. He would certainly hug me on the tiled floor. This brand-new morning timetable for the month of June was a gross and violent reminder of my situation.
Twice I rang up and booked an appointment in Manchester. The initial time I did not timetable flights. The second time I did. Waking up at 4am at the start of July, we knew we had to leave the home at 5am for the airport. In bed we discussed me having the abortion. Did I believe I could go through along with it? I honestly didn’t know. I felt numb. I didn’t feel that I would certainly have the ability to feel any emotion strongly again. I still didn’t know if it was a life or not. This unknown “factor” was exactly what tortured my tired mind. I didn’t know exactly what was the right thing to do. I felt so emotionally drained and weary and lethargic and sapped of all energy. Why not Merely go over and Merely follow the instructions of the doctors and nurses? At least then I wouldn’t have actually to think.
“I don’t believe you ought to go,” my boyfriend said. “I don’t believe you ought to sleepwalk in to this. I believe As soon as this is behind you, you’ll dwell on the guilt. You’re constantly too hard on yourself and this is a rather big stick to beat yourself with.”
I knew he was right. And I hated myself for it. I hated that this was that I was. That I was not able to go over to England. That I was not brave enough or hadn’t enough assurance in myself to do something purely on the “because I don’t want it” argument. I really did not believe of it as a “life” right now, Yet I knew that my having an abortion was stopping it from ever having a life. From becoming alive.
The grey area in between played on my mind. I resented myself for not being able to see the foetus as an extension of me, as something that required me to survive, and so if I didn’t want it I could remove it. I wished I could see it like that, the means my boyfriend did. I hated the honest truth that, despite the fact that the foetus was only 50 per cent me, I was the one calling 100 per cent of the shots. I wished my boyfriend was the one that was pregnant. I wished I could let your man make the decision, knowing that he would certainly go to England. I hated that by not going over, I was forcing your man to go on on this unwanted journey along with me. A journey he wouldn’t go with himself. I hated the guilt of impacting on his life this way.
In the end we did not go to England. I continued along with the pregnancy. I know it’s not the end of the globe but, as of writing this, at 29 weeks, I’m still dreadfully upset. Some days I berate myself for not going over to have actually an abortion. I know that this is a fool’s game. The decision at the time felt like the right one. I felt that I could cope along with being sad over adoption, over the guilt of preventing a life from happening. Now that the sadness is upon me, it sometimes feels too heavy to bear on my heart.
I try hard to block out my feelings of regret, my feelings of sadness. I feel isolated. Not wanting people to know I was pregnant and placing a baby for adoption, I left job at the end of August. I told rather few friends. Those that check in along with me regularly are not the ones I would certainly have actually expected to have actually been there for me. They have actually been a huge source of comfort, and nonjudgmental. I judge myself harshly enough, so to have actually friends that Merely listen and prop me up is huge.
Until mid-October, I was fully committed to adoption. Increasingly, though, it was making me feel incredibly sad. After a discussion yet another morning last month, we both confessed to feeling that we ought to maybe Maintain it. This was a huge turnaround for both of us. Previously, adoption had been my source of sadness; now it is keeping the child. There was so much I wanted to achieve prior to I had youngsters – extensive travel, living abroad, a fulfilling career, and the general freedom of having no responsibilities and no one to answer to. If I Maintain and raise a child, that doesn’t seem realistic any more. It feels as if all I had hoped for, for myself, will certainly be gone. As opposed to focusing my energies on creating myself and becoming a real adult, I will certainly have actually to focus my life about feeding, changing, cleaning and caring for a baby. I will certainly be responsible for an additional life for 18 years.
I marched last September at the pro-choice rally. I became emotional As soon as one speaker referenced the support she wanted us to provide to the 10 women (on average) that travel to England or elsewhere each day for abortions. I believe of them now, getting up As soon as it is still dark, feeling how I felt spine then: sad, confused, torn, guilty, numb. Until you are in the situation, it’s impossible to judge a person else’s decision or know how they feel. I made my own decision. It was the decision that felt right for me. I am telling my story now because I believe as a society we ought to trust women to do exactly what is right for them As soon as – as so numerous have actually and so numerous will certainly – they become pregnant and they don’t wish to be.
Final decision
It’s early December now and I am in a much better place. Having such huge love and support from both sets of parents, extended family and friends has actually helped my boyfriend and I to decide to Maintain the baby. We are under no illusions regarding the challenges, Yet our loved ones are offering us real, practical tips As soon as the baby arrives, which will certainly make the life adjustment easier. Time will certainly tell exactly what the future will certainly hold for me. I take it one day at a time.
The future
I gave birth to a little girl on a Thursday at 9.33pm in Holles Street, after a gruelling 25-hour labour. We have actually named her Alexandra Honoria Emily Woods. Alexandra, we liked. Honoria, after my beloved grandmother. And Emily, after a friend that stepped up for me As soon as I required her most.
I Chance that the name can easily remind me to inspire Alexandra to become as kind, understanding and empathetic as Emily.
We decided to be rather egalitarian and modern along with the surname. As we both believe double-barrelled surnames can easily be a bit pretentious – thank you, Ross O’Carroll-Kelly – we said that if it was a boy, it would certainly be my boyfriend’s surname. As the baby was a girl, she’s Woods.
It’s an understatement to say my parenthood experience so far has actually been illuminating: Already a loving partner, Alexandra has actually brought out more of my boyfriend’s caring nature and shone light on a completely brand-new edge of him. It has actually likewise provided me an even deeper appreciation of my own and my boyfriend’s parents. Our baby continues to radiate brand-new light through all our lives. Giving birth to Alexandra Woods has actually made me more fiercely pro-choice. If in the future she were to experience a crisis pregnancy, and she made the choice to have actually an abortion, I would certainly want her to have actually the procedure safely in Ireland.
Afterwards, I would certainly wish to have the ability to wrap my own daughter up tightly in a blanket, provide her a warm drink and comfort her in my arms in the country of her birth.
Claire Woods talks to Kathy Sheridan on The Women’s Podcast which will certainly be on Irishtimes.com from Sunday evening.