Why it took an abortion to discover myself.

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Why it took an abortion to discover myself.


“Men suck, huh?” said the woman next to me in the abortion clinic recovery room.

No, I thought. I suck –for getting myself in this position in the first place.

I was sitting alone in an abortion clinic waiting my turn. I remember waking up at 5am or so to get to the clinic by 6:30am for a 7am appointment. That turned into a 9am appointment. Let me tell you something. I’ve had very few humbling experiences like that one. I looked around the waiting room and recognized the look on so many of the women’s faces. Most of them were there alone, like me. They had this expression on their face that I will never forget.


Their eyes all looked empty. Their mouths were tight. They avoided any and all eye contact. But I still could read their minds. They, and I, were thinking, “What wrong turn did I make to end up here? How did it get that bad?”

I made the decision to terminate my pregnancy quite easily. In fact, looking back on it, I’m alarmed at how easy that decision was. It was never a question. I was completely detached. The father did what a lot of men in his situation do and denied it was his, claiming I was lying and making it up. I can remember him coming over my apartment and giving me $150 dollars, not saying a word, turning and walking away. He wouldn’t even look at me. I went in for my first appointment and was told to come back because I wasn’t far enough along. Yes, I went through the first part, the blood tests, the waiting, the watching women walk in and out of the waiting room with this vacant look in their eyes not once, but twice.

I had two weeks before they could do the procedure. In that time, I did everything I could to avoid thinking that their was a small, peanut sized person growing inside me. It wasn’t until the day before I went in for the second appointment that I found myself talking to him. Yes, I had this gut feeling it was a boy. I asked him to understand why I was doing what I was doing. That I wasn’t ready, couldn’t provide for him, blah blah blah. I gave him a few pat excuses.  The real reason, at least this is what I told myself, was that I just didn’t want him. It’s quite easy to convince yourself of certainly realities and truths isn’t it?

The morning before I went in, I remember looking at this picture of my Mother I have hung on my wall over my bed. That’s when it really hit me. Here I was acknowledging a connection that I never really experienced or acknowledged as I was about to terminate another one.  I said one final prayer to my Mom and asked her to take care of William for me. That was his name. It came to me so easily as I prayed, too. As if it had been there all along. The only person, other than Karen and the father, who knew was my uncle, a Franciscan priest. He wanted so badly to come with me that day, but for obvious reasons couldn’t.

I remember waking up from the procedure and being walked into a really cold, sterile room. next to me was a woman who looked to be in her mid thirties. She was crying. Fucking great, that’s what I need, I thought. My detachment process was once again kicking into place. Then the cramps came on. Then I vomited. As I sat in that chair with my head in my hands, I felt someone brush my arm. It was the woman next to me.

“Men suck, huh?” she said.

No, I thought. I suck. I suck for getting myself in this position in the first place. This was my fault (well, his, too but you know what I mean.) If I had only been strong enough to just be alone. If only I had been able to give to myself what I thought a man could give me. If only I could have owned up to my flaws and mistakes and tried to fix them, then I would have never been there in the first place.

Instead I allowed my loneliness to rule me.  One night changed the direction of my life. The guy was nobody special or someone I was in an exclusive relationship with, but certainly someone I knew was not right for me. But he gave me attention. Back then that was all I needed to feel pretty and special. It last all of an hour and he left immediately after.

When I called him to tell him I was pregnant, he seemed incredulous. He listed a number of reasons why it couldn’t be his. We used a condom, he said. Not the whole time, I said. I didn’t even come inside you, he said. What are you, twelve? I said. I wasn’t about to give him a crash course in baby making or remind him that condoms aren’t 100% effective.  It was clear not only did he not care for me (something I knew going in to that night) but he also didn’t care for himself because he willingly had sex with me for part of the time without a condom. Years later I learned that he was in AA. I’m still waiting for my amends phone call, but I’m not holding my breath. Not only did I get knocked up by some guy who couldn’t even pronounce my last name, and not only did he barely remember it, but he was an alcoholic to boot. Yeah, I sure knew how to pick ’em.

The lyrics to a song ran through my head as I sat there alone. You never could get it unless you were fed it. Now you’re here and you don’t know why.March 16th, 2002 at an Upper West Side Women’s Health Clinic. That was the day I was finally fed it.

Accountability is a really powerful thing once you acknowledge how crucial it is to personal growth. It’s not easy, and sometimes it’s downright ugly. But you have to face up to it eventually if you ever wish to break the patterns. Nobody likes to look in that mirror or hear where they went wrong. Which is why there are so many people out there at 30, 40, 50 still single, still making the same mistakes, growing more and more battered and broken down and shut off to the idea of being with someone else. They keep trying to assign blame when the person they should be pointing the finger at is themselves.

Until you’re willing to do that, you will continue to make the same mistakes. You will stay stuck, just like I did, causing you to pass up or making you blind to other opportunities. The longer you stay focused on the past or on the what ifs and if only’s, the harder you try to make someone else pay for another person’s mistake, the more you avoid truly getting to the heart of your issues, you’re going to lose out. You will continue to seek out and attract the wrong person and you will completely overlook the right one. A relationship can not fix you. Another person can not heal you. Only you can do that. There comes a time when you have to own your choices, forgive yourself and let go of the past.

You have to look inward before you can move forward.

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2017-04-08T18:18:27+00:00 May 13th, 2009|13 Comments


  1. Deborah Bailey, The Peach Tart May 13, 2009 at 12:31 pm - Reply

    This post was gut wrenching. While I have not experienced an abortion myself, I have been in the room with over a dozen friends and nursed them afterwards. You are brave to tell your story. I hope it will be a catalyst to other women to be more discerning in their choices. Big hugs and much love. Deborah

  2. Cult Diva May 13, 2009 at 1:19 pm - Reply

    Thank you for this story. It broke my heart all over again, having been right where you were not too long ago. All those damn right to lifer’s need to read this, they always act like it’s such an easy decision and that you callously put it behind you right afterward. Not hardly. Thanks for sharing.

  3. trouble May 13, 2009 at 2:04 pm - Reply

    Brilliant and brave.

  4. Mike Alvear May 13, 2009 at 5:08 pm - Reply

    I don’t ordinarily post a comment on my own site but thanks, Moxie. I think you’re going to stop a lot of people in their tracks with your story. Thank you for not keeping this to yourself.

  5. williamiam May 13, 2009 at 5:18 pm - Reply

    Hi. I was the guy in that story. NOt literally, but I gave a girl i was dating money for an abortion. I’m not proud of it since I didn’t even bother to accompany her. Truth was, I wasn’t that into her and she wasn’t that into me. We had another 2-3 hookups left in us even if the pregannacy hadn’t happened. Christ, all i wanna say is how deeply ashamed of what happened after reading this, but can I say something in the spirit of honesty of this essay? I’m ashamed but i wouldn’t do anything different–she meant nothing to me and I nothing to her. The whole thing is sad….

  6. casualencounters.com/blog May 13, 2009 at 6:33 pm - Reply

    Abortion lol!

  7. Rock May 13, 2009 at 10:23 pm - Reply

    Wow, Moxie.

  8. David May 14, 2009 at 4:11 pm - Reply

    Moxie, that was incredible to read, so sefless and brave, truly an essay that speaks about maturing via life experiences. I felt you have true desire to share and help others not go down a path that has no end. I pray that you find peace and direction as you look inside to move foward. Have you read the book “In the Meantime: Finding Yourself and the Love You Want” by Iyanla Vanzant if not may I suggest you get a copy. Be blessed!


  9. Gina A. May 14, 2009 at 7:56 pm - Reply

    Now THAT took guts to write.

  10. anon May 16, 2009 at 11:26 am - Reply

    It’s extremely sad and unforutante that Moxie has chosen to share such a deeply personal and sad circumstance in a public forum. It’s a cry for help for a very sick and wounded individual. Moxie desperately needs help and treatment. She also has a picture on her blog of her legs, which is obviously another attempt to receive justification from others and shows just how sick she really is. Moxie NEEDS for people to email her and tell her she looks great, etc. It’s very sick and very sad.

  11. Life Whisperer May 16, 2009 at 7:17 pm - Reply

    In respond to Anon, Moxie might be crying out for help, but her story serves to help others. It takes a very brave person to air out such a personal story that could help other women realize that they are not alone. Could you do that. So many women seek attention and what they perceive to be love from the wrong places and people, this story show the consequences of such actions especially when precaution is not taken. As a Life Whisperer I work with so many broken spirited individuals, with deep secrets that they can not share with anyone, but do so with me. When people start to open up and share their stories, they are truly ready to start moving on.

    Christan, thank you for sharing your personal story, I am sure it will help others to realize this is not an easy decision for a women to make. To the men I hope this story helps you to understand what women go through when deciding to do this and if nothing else just provide moral support.

  12. […] essay, this one by Moxie, takes on a softer but no less reflective view. Hers was a first trimester abortion. She had a […]

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