Hall of Infinite Doors
You decide to have an abortion. Your emotions are a curious mix. You know, at the same time, that what you're doing is best for yourself and your child, but you can't help feeling guilty over the decision. It seems like all reason is confirming your choice but all emotion is denying it. You wish this didn't happen at all, that you didn't have to make this choice, but it did and you did, and now you have to act on it.
Never being one to laze around and hope things work out, you start the very next day in asking around for a reputable clinic. You meet with startlingly low success. Your mother is still ashamed of you, and asks you frequently why you've let her down like this - when you try to consult with her about an abortion, she does nothing other than burst into tears. Your father is more reasonable, and even agrees with you, but doesn't have the first idea where you'd go about looking for something like this. Despite your mother's wailings, he tells you that he supports your decision, and if he can't be there with you in person when it happens, he'll be there with you in spirit.
Your school counsellor is absolutely useless. You go to her next, figuring that if anyone has knowledge about what to do to solve a Typical Teen Problem(TM), it's her. You didn't count on her rampant zealotry, however. You're sure that somewhere in her office is a locked cabinet containing numbers for drug rehab centers, abortion clinics, psychiatrists and anyone who might be remotely helpful towards anyone whose issues can't be fixed with a good dose of Jesus Christ. When you mention your problem to her, you have to endure a twenty-minute screaming session where she tries every conceivable way of very politely calling you a whore, and the only advice she gives is to "look deep into your heart and pray that the Lord wash away these sinful urges and thoughts".
You find a surprisingly large amount of aid, however, among your friends. In fact, many of them think your ex is a cock for doing what he did to you, and several girls have had abortions themselves. You're surprised at how common a phenomenon it is, and what's more, how much wiser it's made a lot of the girls who've gone through it. Yeah, you encounter one or two who've gotten pregnant, got an abortion, got the sprog removed and went back to snorting coke and sucking dick as soon as they were healthy to do so, but for the majority of girls the experience has been one of definite sadness and loss. The prevailing comment on the situation seems to be "I wish it didn't have to be that way".
The support you get from your friends is very helpful. Though you're outwardly very strong, you're beginning to feel the pressure. You find yourself crying yourself to sleep a lot during the night, and sometimes during the day it feels like all the emotion is draining out of you like water from a fistful of mud. Now that you have a solution to your problem, and the names, addresses and phone numbers of two clinics (it turns out that where you live is posessed of a surprisingly large amount of people like your school counsellor who violently object to the presence of abortion clinics) who perform the procedure, it seems like the thing inside you seems less and less like a burden and pain and more and more like a potential person, one you savor your few remaining days with before you perform the action that necessity and good sense dictates you must do.
Two clinics are available to you; the rest are either a ridiculous drive away or in the process of closing. The first, Gentry Valley Clinic, is close, contemporary, and has an excellent reputation for care and counselling during and after the fact. It has, however, been the target of considerable scandal the past few years. The second, Our Lady of Mercy Clinic, is somewhat farther away, but prides itself on its discreteness and has almost no reputation at all; it seems either like no one goes there, or those that do just want to sweep their abortion under the rug and forget it ever happened.
Never being one to laze around and hope things work out, you start the very next day in asking around for a reputable clinic. You meet with startlingly low success. Your mother is still ashamed of you, and asks you frequently why you've let her down like this - when you try to consult with her about an abortion, she does nothing other than burst into tears. Your father is more reasonable, and even agrees with you, but doesn't have the first idea where you'd go about looking for something like this. Despite your mother's wailings, he tells you that he supports your decision, and if he can't be there with you in person when it happens, he'll be there with you in spirit.
Your school counsellor is absolutely useless. You go to her next, figuring that if anyone has knowledge about what to do to solve a Typical Teen Problem(TM), it's her. You didn't count on her rampant zealotry, however. You're sure that somewhere in her office is a locked cabinet containing numbers for drug rehab centers, abortion clinics, psychiatrists and anyone who might be remotely helpful towards anyone whose issues can't be fixed with a good dose of Jesus Christ. When you mention your problem to her, you have to endure a twenty-minute screaming session where she tries every conceivable way of very politely calling you a whore, and the only advice she gives is to "look deep into your heart and pray that the Lord wash away these sinful urges and thoughts".
You find a surprisingly large amount of aid, however, among your friends. In fact, many of them think your ex is a cock for doing what he did to you, and several girls have had abortions themselves. You're surprised at how common a phenomenon it is, and what's more, how much wiser it's made a lot of the girls who've gone through it. Yeah, you encounter one or two who've gotten pregnant, got an abortion, got the sprog removed and went back to snorting coke and sucking dick as soon as they were healthy to do so, but for the majority of girls the experience has been one of definite sadness and loss. The prevailing comment on the situation seems to be "I wish it didn't have to be that way".
The support you get from your friends is very helpful. Though you're outwardly very strong, you're beginning to feel the pressure. You find yourself crying yourself to sleep a lot during the night, and sometimes during the day it feels like all the emotion is draining out of you like water from a fistful of mud. Now that you have a solution to your problem, and the names, addresses and phone numbers of two clinics (it turns out that where you live is posessed of a surprisingly large amount of people like your school counsellor who violently object to the presence of abortion clinics) who perform the procedure, it seems like the thing inside you seems less and less like a burden and pain and more and more like a potential person, one you savor your few remaining days with before you perform the action that necessity and good sense dictates you must do.
Two clinics are available to you; the rest are either a ridiculous drive away or in the process of closing. The first, Gentry Valley Clinic, is close, contemporary, and has an excellent reputation for care and counselling during and after the fact. It has, however, been the target of considerable scandal the past few years. The second, Our Lady of Mercy Clinic, is somewhat farther away, but prides itself on its discreteness and has almost no reputation at all; it seems either like no one goes there, or those that do just want to sweep their abortion under the rug and forget it ever happened.