September 29, 2002
In February 2002, I gave birth to a baby boy, my third and last.
But by July 2002, I was pregnant again. I was utterly devastated.
My husband threatened to leave me if I kept it. He had already left me once before, after I decided to keep my son instead of aborting him.
I finally agreed to an abortion. I knew deep down that I couldn't handle another baby. Even my doctor agreed that it was the right thing to do, and arrangements were made.
The 1st of September was the date when I had the procedure (as the doctors called it), a medical procedure as the surgical procedure was impossible due to my weight problem.
I have never felt pain like it, the cramps mixing with the pain of the shame and humiliation I felt being in an ordinary gynae ward, the constant pacing and trips to the toilet.
Around lunchtime, I felt a popping sensation and went to the loo, to see my baby lying there. I broke my heart sobbing in this cold impersonal hospital bathroom, but it was too late to turn back now. I wanted to die.
But the nurse said there's still more to come. I was numb. I wanted to go home and be with my children, but I couldn't.
As the hours passed by, others who had had the procedure done were leaving, but I was still there. The bleeding wouldn't stop, and there was still tissue to be passed, I didn't leave until 18.30 hrs. I'd been there since 8.30am, and I had had enough.
My life was upside down, I couldn't think straight.
I still can't 4 weeks later. I'm haunted by images of my baby at night. I wonder what my baby would have been like. Now I'll never know, and it will eat at me for years to come.
