Got to the clinic early and there were about 4 other couples Waiting. All of these girls looked like crap just like I did. My partner was there with me. I hated him. I hated myself for being in this situation. There were a number of times when each of the girls would file in and back out to sit down in the Waiting Room. More couples were filing in. Damn, all of these people were Baby killers? I hated them too. After an hour, it was my turn. I was asked if I knew my blood type. Nope, I didn’t. I got blood drawn from the inside of my elbow. It bled a lot. They had to replace the cotton ball. My veins must have been pumping that hard.

They sent me to a hallway to sit down after they drew blood. There was another girl sitting next to me with a suitcase. We didn’t even look at each other. I was sent there to wait for my sonogram. I thought I had read everything about everything and that getting a sonogram was equal to an ultrasound on my belly that would show how big the baby was. The girl called me in and told me to get undressed from the bottom down. The “sonogram” was basically a giant dildo, with a condom and lube that would show the “pregnancy sac” and size of the “pregnancy” via the vagina. It was supposed to show the location and size of the baby in my uterus.

The Nurse inserted the sonogram/dildo wand thing into my vagina. I saw that there was a printer and I asked for a picture. Yep, I did. She was printing them out anyway for my charts. So I asked for a copy. My boyfriend kept referring to the baby as the sperm and egg – like a moron – so I wanted to picture to show him it wasn’t just fluid in there. The image on the picture was a dark spot that was .75 cm wide. The baby was 5 weeks 2 days. I was sent out to wait again in the lobby for a while. I showed my boyfriend the picture of the baby. He said stop calling it a baby and told me to get rid of the picture.  I put the picture back in my purse. They called me in again after waiting an hour.

I was sent to a room where I met with an old lady nurse with a tired face. She looked at me like she’d had enough of crying bitches all around her. So I forced myself to be strong and not cry. She asked me if I had any questions about the procedure after reading the bullet points on the patient handout. Of course I had questions. It seemed like everything I asked she responded with “It depends.” Or “It varies from person to person.” So much for expertise and reassurance. I signed some papers. She was the first person to ask why I was doing this. I don’t know if she was required to ask or if she was being nosy or wondering if I was being forced to do it. I don’t know. That was weird but I answered honestly anyway. She seemed satisfied. I should have just shown her my pros and cons list. She sent me back out to the waiting room. I waited another hour or so.

They called me back in to the exam room. Yep, back and forth back and forth for 4 hours. I heard a doctor talking outside the door with someone about procedures and policies. I think the person he was talking to was in training. He was giving his trainee an overview of what he was going to tell me. I pretty much heard everything through the door.  I felt so cold. The nurse that took me into the room had given me a cup of water and put my “goody bag” on the counter. The white paper bag had my name on it. There was a lot of stuff in it. That must be the Pill. I felt even colder and started shivering. The doctor that I heard outside talking was now walking inside with his colleague, a woman. He quickly introduced himself and pretty much repeated everything the nurse said on that patient handout and asked me if I had any questions.

I tried a different approach with him: The first thing I thought of and asked was worst-case scenario…What happens if there are complications, if I’m at home and something goes wrong? Do I go to my primary care provider – the fucked up Catholic hospital that denied me basic health information – since it is closer to my home than other emergency rooms? He said NO. He gave me another option for a hospital further away but that would admit me and I suppose not kill me on purpose? I guess that’s what these crazy abortion-hating medics do to women who abort their babies? Make them pay.

I started feeling dizzy. I wanted to get this over with so fast. He asked if I was ready. I was. He placed the white pill, Mifeprex (Mifepristone) into my palm. It was a big tablet. I took the pill and drank from my Dixie cup filled with cold water. And that was it.

I grabbed my bag and left. I wasn’t expecting anything eventful to happen the entire night. That pill would basically kill the lifesource or connection from me to the baby by cutting off the hormone progesterone to my uterus. Scary Moment part 1 would be over. Scary moment part 2 would begin 24 hours later when I would take the Misoprostol on my own at home.