What to Expect When You're Aborting

y’all.

Mon, 27 Oct 2008 14:06:41 -0400

y’all.

regrets on overshare: you simply have to love the cyber delay of an IM chat about your vagina

Mon, 20 Oct 2008 15:15:00 -0400

insecure self-effacing me: i switched it to private because I was so embarrassed about this whole thing. I had made the mistake that a thousand girls had made.
acerbic, brutal male: you believed that the guy would pull out?
me: not the abortion, the overshare.
me: HAHAHHA oh my god.

To hell with all that: Archives are back

Sun, 19 Oct 2008 02:09:00 -0400

Pretty emotional from re-reading them. I will explain my reasons for unlocking them and all that some other time. There’s a whole paradox to this of course. I would to like to live in a place where abortion isn’t such a polarizing, seemingly life-changing event. It wasn’t for me. Not at all. I’ve been in more pain and anguish from a twisting my ankle. The pregnancy was the agony, 7 weeks of vertigo and mood swings. The abortion was a breeze.

So I want to put the whole thing behind me. I don’t want to count down every day from the abortion (this happens to be the one month anniversary). So blogging about it everyday and fielding emails about it —once again, if you email me to debate this shit I will ignore it but if I’m two drinks in you will get the sharpest side of tongue. Some of you readers have experienced that. I make no apologies. You should fucking know better — just makes it all there all the time. All the time.

But the response has been so great. The out pour. The support. And I just like it. It’s fun joking about this and getting mad and mounting my cyber high horse. Anyways, hope you stick around. And I hope you enjoy this

Here are the highlights :

Photo

Fri, 17 Oct 2008 19:52:54 -0400

Abortion Recovery Kit!

Fri, 10 Oct 2008 14:09:55 -0400

A fellow lady who had corrective womb surgery and I came up with this. I had a few friends send care packages and it was the greatest thing. It made me feel so loved and proud. If you wanna tell your lady that she’s the cunt-loving master of her sexual universe I suggest putting together something like this. (Or if you wanna prepare these things yourself like I did)

First you’ll need a crucifix and crushing sense of shame — OMG JJJJJJ FUCKING KAAAY.

1. Salty borthy soup/crackers — after surgery your body is alll waaaahhhhhh. I threw up a grip from the morphine so for every one’s sake you want to put stuff in you that’s easy on the belleh.

2. Hot Tea/ Port Wine/ Bourbon — If you were like me you couldn’t hold down the booze during the fetus invasion. Now is the tip to slowly sip some sweet ambrosia. Its so soothing. Stay away from beer. It makes you more bloaty.

3. Fuckin Popcicles — You earned sweetness —but not dairy! That shit is hard to deal with after surgery.

4. At least 1-2 season’s worth of quality tv dvds. You really can’t do too much while you’re recovery except sleep and complain about cramps. Take the day to watch the a show that you can nod in and out of. I watched 2 seasons of The Office. I cried a lot. Stay away from Deadwood or The Sopranos. That shit is all about the existenial abyss. You don’t need that right now.

5. Tabloids —- obvs.

6. The best pain pills your dealer can get — not that you’ll be in that much pain at all but it really doesn’t hurt to feel all floaty on vicodin. Or just get tynelnol if you’re scared to take drugs about drugs, puss.

7. Anything that brings humor to the situation. My fantastic friend sent me a huge package with girly themed lotion and make up, candy, magazines, fake candy grillz and temporary expecting mommy tattoos which blew my fucking mind!

Anybody got more to add?

It's a vagina Madame, not a clown car.

Tue, 07 Oct 2008 17:39:02 -0400

Had ye ol’ ShameCave looked at today.

(actual image below)

I’m healthy and healing.

I went to my private gyno. She is a brusk north easterner. She was kinder than usual today cause I told her I had THE PROCEDURE. Mind you My Great Pregnancy Panic set in when I called her office 10 weeks ago first and asked for an appointment. When I told the unbearably sassy sectary that i was pregnant she said

“Doctor ____ doesn’t see pregnant women before their 8th week.”

I was so confused by this statement i just hung up. Because of course I wanted to scream out “uh, i don’t want to get to my 8th week!!!.”

I went to her and NOT to planned parenthood because I have a snobbish idea about healthcare. I’m sickly.

I’ve been sick and struck with too much shit at too young an age so I have silly phobias about public clinics and HMOs — ive had some Kafkaesque experiences. All this to say, no fucking way was I stepping into planned parenthood again. They treat you like cattle most of the time.

I had stitches and once and I was always worried that I infection because the wound tingle and throb for the first months. Well that’s how my uterus feels.

Not the vag, or the ovaries. But i actually feel my uterus jiggling a bit from “the healing process”

Remember in old cartoons when they would throw a cat in a bag and you could see the bag buldge and writhe from the kitty trying to get out. That’s kind of what it feels like. A couple times a week uterus will be all “BAM!” “BOOM!” “BIFF!”

I’d be lying if I said if that hasn’t made me trigger shy to sex. I get all hot and bothered and then “KABOOM!” And body shuts off.

I would like to be over this by now. I didn’t want to fuck during my pregnancy because I would get motion sickness. Now my shit’s all fragile. Ugh how is it mormons are able to pop out nine kids and still get their hump on?!?

SIDENOTE:

why am i so attracted to this man?

Recovery Room: The Deluge

Fri, 26 Sep 2008 01:24:00 -0400

I was cheerful and high.

The recovery room was not at all how imagined. It was communal. Instead of beds their were chairs. Looking back now i realize that it looked exactly like a nail salon. Two rows of oversized recliner chairs, silent women, and chatty asian ladies at their feet.

Every one was very quiet. When the nurse took my vitals she asked me how I was feeling I said “I am fan fucking tasticcccc… how are you my friend?” She chuckled and she said it was good to see me smile.

And I got excited. This was going to be a very rare, often coveted moment of self-actualization right? Where something so atomized understands itself entirely and it begins to bond to other atoms. We could all speak the same language now.

I sat back in the chair expecting all us sisters, we bloody, happy few, would make each other laugh and exhale out anxieties. I looked to my right and I saw the polish woman. I just reached out and grabbed her hand. I asked her, because I was zonked out of my fucking head, why she had an abortion. Through a lot of tears she told me that she was 15 weeks pregnant, had three children, and she just found out her new child was going to be autistic. And decided she didn’t want to go through with it.

She was sobbing. And I felt guilty for being flip about the whole thing. She wanted her kid. Shit, she had three more than I was willing to have. But then she asked me why. And I said I’m too young. And there was this slow groundswell of emotion inside my ribs that didn’t quite erupt but steadily spilled out. Like some huge block up that is slowly, but forcefully drained.

I told her about how scared I was, how alone I felt in this hell of a fucking city, and how difficult all this shit was with my partner. And we sat there dazed and sobbing. Speaking loudly hoping, I think, that others would explain how they were.

Jesus Christ. i am a fucking wreck as I type this. Not sure why.

Then a girl two seats away, black and stout said:

“Girl, this is my second. I don’t ever want to do this shit again.”

We chuckled.

Another girl came in named M____ . I recognized her and knew her name from the waiting room. She sat down and I immediately blurted out “M___, how did it go?”

“not great” she said cried silently.

I noticed that, except for one other girl who was passed out, I was the only one that was on a ton of fucking morphine. I decided I should shut up because who knew what kind of raggedy ass bullshit I was going to talk. No, transcendental sisterhood would have to wait. I rolled my head over to the other side and slept for about ten mins. Delicious, otherworldly sleep.

When I woke up the Polish woman had left and I knew I wanted to leave too. I was in too good of spirits to stay in such an emotionally charged room. I felt pretty good walking out. A little floaty. Went to eat a clubsandwhich with mom. Before i could sit down I puked all the morphine and stomach acid out. That was the end of my high.

And that was it. Aside from some mild nausea and weak cramps I was back to being myself. I spent the day sleeping and watching the Office with my mom. By monday my hormones were a little wonky but in all i just felt like this parasitic creature that burrowed its way into me and fed of my energy, apetite, and joy was removed. And I had been restored.

Climax

Thu, 25 Sep 2008 01:48:00 -0400

The young, fresh-faced Ethopian doctor walked in, shook my hand and completely ignored my tears. Told me to just lay down.

The sedation, the procedure, my feelings, anxieties, were clearly not up for discussion.

This is where you succeeded, Planned Parenthood. It was total go time. Once you made it into that room you weren’t going back. This was the best possible thing that could have happened. Any further discussion about anything would have made me melt down from frustration and anxiety. (I was a wee bit emotional)

I was also flummoxed by the fact that he was a man. My defenses were thrown. Every single person I saw and dealt with behind the desk that day was a woman. My gynos have always been ladies (its important for me to describe pain to my doctor and have them know which flabia or labia i’m talking about.)

I laid back, there was no cool thing on the ceiling — at my old clinic in LA they had pictures of pandas and dolphins!! The nurse spiked my vein and the morphine shot hurt like a bitch. I’m wincing and writhing and thinking

FUCK! IF THAT HURT, WHAT’S THE VACCUM GOING TO FEEL LIKE AHHHHHHH—

And then like a slow rolling wave- it washed over me. I inhaled and I felt fucking magnificent. Picture right when you’re coming out of sleep, when you turn over to snooze and put your face to the cold part of your pillow, you can’t help but grin. Ok, hold that soothing warmth and total relaxation, now imagine having an orgasm. Like 5 of them, surronded by plushy pillows. That’s what hit me about 20 seconds after they poped the IV in.

I closed my eyes to let myself float through the high and thought “oh my god, i feel so good, oh my good, this is fucking good, oh my god —”

“And you’re all done.” The doctor says.

I couldn’t believe it.

I felt nothing.

I heard nothing.

I felt awesome.

Wanna talk about the question of life? Let me put it like this: the physical and psychological euphoria was so immense that moments after I stood up i felt resurrected. I felt very certain the life had indeed prevailed. My life.

I scooted off the slab, with the paper still clinging to my ass and thighs and asked if I could see “it”. I looked at a medical waste bucket by my feet and to be honest, my head was swirling so much that I could have been looking at bucket of baby bones, or Marie Antoinette’s severed head, or unicorns, or thumb tacks I wouldn’t have known the difference.

I put my clothes on and was escorted clumsily into the recovery room where there 5 other women in their own separate dazes. Now that’s a good story. Until tomorrow. My ambien is preventing me from tortured coherence.

My Pu55y is Magic. Watch.

Wed, 24 Sep 2008 03:17:00 -0400

My Pu55y is Magic. Watch. : It’s worth it. It will make your middle tingle.

This is actually why I've always hated Ben Folds. His mock turtle neck and moody abortion song. Worst. Video. Ever. There is silent rain in the background! 1997 UGH. WHAT WERE WE THINKING?

Wed, 24 Sep 2008 02:54:00 -0400

This is actually why I've always hated Ben Folds. His mock turtle neck and moody abortion song. Worst. Video. Ever. There is silent rain in the background! 1997 UGH. WHAT WERE WE THINKING?

Seriously though, put the beer down for a sec.

Tue, 23 Sep 2008 01:45:00 -0400

One of the reasons I didn’t drink is also because I wanted to avoid a scary miscarriage. I was afraid the second I got sloshed my womb would be like “ok, fuck THIS”

and splooooog.

For all you ladies who got some procedures scheduled this week!!...

Tue, 23 Sep 2008 01:30:00 -0400

For all you ladies who got some procedures scheduled this week!! The Internet Gods Will Smile Upon Thee!!

(Thanks to Hillary for this plushy awesomeness)

Why Avoid Alcohol? Baby Steps!

Mon, 22 Sep 2008 19:36:00 -0400

I’ve mentioned a couple times that only this weekend was I able to get my drink and my step on again.

Lot’s of email asking why I couldn’t calm my nerves with the salty whore known as booze during the pregnancy.

No other reason except the fact that I couldn’t keep it down. I couldn’t smoke either. Everything that wasn’t salty broth made my stomach swirl and my knees buckle. Even the most biblical and holy of vices: cupcakes, fucked me up something awful.

(Still not able to cut it, actually. I downed a Stella and a half at a social/work meeting with a boss who has blistering smarts this weekend. I got in the cab and the nausea hit like a fucking anvil. I nearly threw up several times. Then I had to sleep. Could have been nerves. Or my genteel constitution. Either way, baby steps!)

But shit, if you’re prego, expecting to abort, and can handle your liquor I hear that cigarette after drunken, unprotected sex with multiple partners is really as good as it gets.

It’s important to be a role model. Smiley face!

Panic at the disco

Mon, 22 Sep 2008 19:13:00 -0400

After the mandatory counseling session, came the screechy, wrinkly, yenta, morphine counselor: Dr. JewyGoldenBergSteinBlatt. She was a terse cunt. Her job, I think, was to counsel me on the effects of the sedation. She would smack her lips in between talking and cock her head to the side. Pursing her little lamprey mouth while I spoke.

In a snippy tone she “explained” :

“If you’re nervous the sedation makes you forget the pain. But its not a painkiller. You’re not that far along so you could do the sedation or not. It will make you pretty sick but its up to you.”

This freaked me out because when my mother came out of a surgery a couple years ago she was was in total agony with nausea and vomiting for several hours after the operation. After being through weeks of physical torment, the idea of willingly increasing my nausea and ache seemed insane to me.

I asked her if she thought that the costs of the sedation would outweigh the benefits.

“That’s up to you.” She had all the concern and warmth of a DMV bureaucrat.

I’m not sure what the fucking training is like in planned parenthood but they are fucking shit-show when it comes to giving pro’s and con’s to anything. The emphasis is a woman’s emotional state rather than just answering straight forward medical questions. Find a fucking balance, people! Fuck this is pisses me off to no end!!! The anger, it burns!

I was hurried out of that room. Put back in the waiting room for an hour watching girl after girl leave the back office with crackers, water, a paper bag with the soppository they would be taking that night.

After a whopping 5 fucking hours wait I was called into the exam room to have the procedure.

I figured out that of the 36 or so women in the room about 30 were taking the pill leaving just about 6 of us to get the hose. We happy few who were getting the surgery had to wait until every one else had taken the pill. Why? I have no clue. Please email me if you have insider intel.

Then they called my name, I flashed a sideways peace sign to my mom —Diddy style —and off I went.

They put me in a hallway with three chairs. The hallway was not lit and it was silent. I sat next to the older sobbing blonde woman. She was calm and Polish. I asked her if she was having the surgery. She said yes and explained that she was 15 weeks. I said that I was nervous she said she was nervous too. Then they called her in.

Then I got fist fucked by my own emotions. I was absolutely terrified that something was going to wrong and I was mad at myself for being in this position. As much as I like breaking it off raw and as much as I hate the petty amount of weight gain that the Ring has put on my body none of it was worth the level of fear and anxiety that I felt at the moment (looking back now, if for some reason I had to do this again which I don’t plan to, I don’t think I would flinch).

I was mostly terrified the idea of some one manually opening my cervix. Then having an contraption shoved inside of me. Now at this point I had totally psyched myself out and considered going home and doing it another week at a private clinic where I could avoid the wait, the protesters, and slip into general anesthetisia.

They called me into the operating room. A very friendly nurse saw that I was crying and spoke to me in a soft soothing voice. She looked at my chart and then quizzically said “You’re getting the sedation…?”

Exasperated, I said “I don’t know. I don’t know if its a good idea. What do you think???”

She said “You can talk to the doctor about it.”

Ughhhhh!! Then she made a sudden movement as I was looking down at my feet. She had covered “the machine” and explained “it makes some women nervous looking at it”

I sat on the table. Naked from the waste down and just stared the sheathed machine. And the wave of hysteria hit. I just kept thinking

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! THIS IS GOING TO HURT AND THE NOISE WILL RING IN MY EARS! AND IT WILL HURT AND IT WILL SUCK! AND HOW THE FUCK CAN I GET OUT OF THIS!!”

Panic, panic, panic.

This is the same reaction I had when I broke my arm and they tried to set it. My wrist was backwards and my ulna was twisted around my radius but I was so scared of the pain of setting it that I tried to convince the doctor to leave it.

So I’m shaking and crying and wanting to run away and there under the sheet is this thing that will put my life back together but also cause me serious pain.

And then a black male doctor walks in the room and is all business willing to put up with none of my tearful bullshit.

Oh mah gawd. A wonderful woman from the free state of North...

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 23:18:00 -0400

Oh mah gawd. A wonderful woman from the free state of North Carolina sent me a box of delicious caramel chocolates (drizzled with sea salt!) as a post-abortion care package!!

So good! You should go and support her cause she supports ladies who rep abortion.

She’s like Willy Wonka and I’m like Charlie Bucket. But with titties.

I’m all melty from delight.

Shucks: Places, People! Curtain in 5!!

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 19:34:00 -0400

I keep trying to blog about the actual “procedure”. But I’m just getting too emotional about it. In small part its due to the fact that the final room they put you in, alone, before you get the hose was terrifying. Its in there that I totally lost my shit and started hysterically crying and shaking because I was so afraid of the pain and complications. (I’m very sensitive about my vag. My sophmore year of college was spent inside of GYNO clincs because I had a never ending bladder infection, that got all yeasty, then a bacterial infection, then my vagina essentially turned into Fullujah. I was so fucking depressed because I didn’t like my lady-flower constantly poked and proded at. I would randomly burst into tears during pelvic exams. So. yeah. Boo.)

But I’m really trigger shy right now mostly because of a little post-partum depression I’m feeling about this project. Once I write about it then its over, this blog will soon end (as much as I would like it to keep going I’m having a hard time thinking of worthy things to blog about outside of my uterus) , and so will be this small, dramatic, bonding experience.

I used to do a theater growing up (shocking, I know) and it feels like I’m coming up on closing night. What starts off as a very atomized role — memorizing your lines, sitting backstage, working on your character, making out with the egotistical stud of the class, going home after a performance by yourself — becomes a totally communal, cathartic experience. You forge extremely deep bonds with people who, at that moment in time, are the only ones who know every single line in Hamlet. Who all hate the kick-ball-changes in the opening of A Chorus Line. And who all cringe at the same shitty line readings and all swoon when the class starlets coos and writhes on stage. No one else gets it except them.

Through weeks of performances you get exhausted and loathe the people you’re with day in day out. You snap at them. You talk endless amounts of shit. Then all of sudden at curtain call on closing night every one is in tears. No one wants it to be over. People hug and kiss and cry backstage the whole time and then when you finally bow you feel like you could explode from exhaustion and elation.

I’m not ready to wipe off my stage make up yet. Bare with me. I’ll get there soon. :)

Really? Fucking pull it together, brain! Creating psychosomatic symptoms

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 14:04:00 -0400

Not sure when this happened but the day after the abortion I woke up with a really nasty giant bruise on my upper thigh.

No idea how it got there.

Then two nights ago, I dreamt that I was lying on my back and I felt an awful pain all through my thigh.

I lowered my pants and found the whole inside of my fleshy thigh was DARK, DARK black and blue with splotches of neon (pink, green, yellow). It almost looked like gangrene. It went from my knee all the way to my bikini line. It looked like some one had smacked me with a piece of fly wood. And it looked infected.

I pressed on it and it was an extremely tender pain. Not sharp like a wound, but like a fresh, deep bruise. It made my heart freeze. I woke up.

I keep thinking about the visual and I my thigh keeps cramping and throbbing. Of course NOTHING is wrong with my physically. I’m just having a particularly heavy period and I have to use a pad (nothing goes in the vag for two weeks!). A pad just emphasizes how overtly menstrual you are.

The dream is obvious. I have anxiety about doing unseen damage to my body or other physical reprucussions.

I am feeling terrific. I have energy, and appetite, and my baby chub is going away. But everytime that visual flashes I feel my chest constrict and my thigh pulse with pain.

I’m disapointed in myself. I so desperately just wanted to just walk it off. Make a joke and show every one that “hey it wasn’t that big of deal!!” I think its because of the heaviness of my period and the fact that I have to take big anti-biotic pills everyday, that I haven’t had all the anxiety wash away yet.

I almost didn’t want to write this because I want all the readers to see me as strong. See a woman go through this without sending off some sappy anonymous postcard to post-secret. But I decided I should share it because I think it sheds more light on why women who are conflicted about an abortion can suffer so greatly after they go through one. There’s just too much mystique around this procedure and I think I would have almost not thought twice about it if wasn’t such a cultural lightining rod.

My heart breaks for women who go through this with the added burden of mourning or grieving. And I am angry at people who fight to make this whole process harder than it needs to be. Fuck you guys, y’all motherfuckers are making me burn through my ambien.

micek: holy shit, this is amazing. Are those the ghosts of your...

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 09:56:00 -0400

micek:

holy shit, this is amazing. Are those the ghosts of your unborn children in your hands?

myabortion:

BEST. PERIOD. EVER.

HoLOLcaust!

"Society does not need more children; but it does need more loved children. Quite literally, we..."

Wed, 17 Sep 2008 23:33:00 -0400

“Society does not need more children; but it does need more loved children. Quite literally, we cannot afford unloved children - but we pay heavily for them every day. There should not be the slightest communal concern when a woman elects to destroy the life of her thousandth-of-an-ounce embryo. But all society should rise up in alarm when it hears that a baby that is not wanted is about to be born.”

- Garrett Hardin

Mandatory Abortion Counseling, A Lesson in Disappointment: "Have you considered adoption?"

Wed, 17 Sep 2008 23:29:00 -0400

So I’m on hour three.

I can’t step outside because THERE IS A PRIEST ON THE HIS KNEES PLAYING GUITAR AND A WHOLE CONGREGATION OF SCRAWNY WHITE FOLK READY TO POUNCE ON ME WITH PRAYER. CAPS. LOCK. FOR. EMPHASIS.

Women we’re essentially held hostage inside the clinic because of these righteous fucks. If you stepped out of the door you we’re approached by the foot soldiers of jesus. But! if there were men folk around you, they stayed away. So whenever I went out for air I tried to go by the nervous smoking boyfriends and husbands (it’s like a reverse maternity waiting room!)

I go in for counseling. A kindly, older, black lady asked me if I had any questions. I asked:

1. How long will it take for my nasuea and excrcuiating heart burn to go away?

2. Is today the worst day of the cramping and bleeding (as in, does it get easier or worse in a day)?

3. What exactly are they shooting me up with?

The stomach side effects usually lift by the next day (they did). The first day is the worst (it was). They are shooting you up with a sedative. NOT A PAINKILLER. “The sedative may make your nausea worse. You’re not that far along so its really not that necessary.”

Even though I paid for it. $525!!

Even though it was recommended to me.

I think she was saying this to be comforting but it just confused me. Was I only going to make myself sick from taking a powerful sedative? Could I still take the pill? She kept saying the doctor would explain it.

Then she asked me two questions that took me totally by surprise — AFTER we had already gotten up to end the session. She said, I need to ask you two things.

1. “Have you considered adoption?”

I said no, I wasn’t interested.

2. “Why aren’t you caring the pregnancy to term?”

Then all of a sudden I was struck with panic: what if I gave the wrong answer??? Would they not give it to me? The first thing that came into my mind was “because I don’t want it. I don’t want a baby.” But I thought maybe she would probe more and ask why and then we would have to “discuss” it. I said “Because I’m 23 and I barely know how to make rent” (not true. but sympathy inducing.) She broke a smile and said. “Ok. I just have to ask that question.”

That’s the problem. She HAS to. It’s fantastic that abortion is legal and accessible in this country, but it’s the pro-life (I decided I can use the term pro-life because I recognize that at one point in a pregnancy there is a heartbeat. But I don’t care. This world doesn’t need more kids. I don’t care if the thing inside me can blink, move its fingers, feel pain, play the piano, or speak fluent french. If its inside of me, its my life, that’s what I’m concerned with, NOT with a potential life. If we were concerned with “potential life” your boyfriend should be arrested for genocide everytime he cums on your back. ) agenda has permeated the entire process. The waiting period, the mandatory counseling, illegal third trimester abortions, etc.

This paternalism that has guided reproductive law hits you in the face when you try to excercise your right.

I find it insulting. I needed medical counseling, not emotional counseling. I don’t need the state stepping in to make sure “I feel ok”. If I was getting a bad tooth pulled out they wouldn’t send in a Orthadonic Interventionist to make to check in about how I feeling about the loss of a molar.

What to Expect When You're Aborting

y’all.

regrets on overshare: you simply have to love the cyber delay of an IM chat about your vagina

To hell with all that: Archives are back

Day One: Fuck.

Meta, Meta, Meta, & Lonelygirl 15

Planned Parenthood, It’s kind of like Baghdad

Planned Parenthood Hatin’ on The Pill

Some one has put sand in my blood

Dear This Pregnancy

To The Men Who Put the Killer Kidney Beans in our Bellies: Notes on Etiquette

Dear Morphined Out, Baby-Free Me

Let’s get some cocktails and De-brief, Shall we? Part one of many about Abortion Day, 2008

The Weight: Abortion Day Part Two!

Mandatory Abortion Counseling, A Lesson in Disappointment: “Have you considered adoption?”

Panic at the disco

Climax

Recovery Room: The Deluge

She’s Crafty/ She Gets Around/ She’s Crafty : Crowdsourcing My Abortion

Grass Soup: Third Trimester Abortions, Let’s Talk About Em.

Photo

Abortion Recovery Kit!

It's a vagina Madame, not a clown car.

Recovery Room: The Deluge

Climax

FUCK! IF THAT HURT, WHAT’S THE VACCUM GOING TO FEEL LIKE AHHHHHHH—

My Pu55y is Magic. Watch.

This is actually why I've always hated Ben Folds. His mock turtle neck and moody abortion song. Worst. Video. Ever. There is silent rain in the background! 1997 UGH. WHAT WERE WE THINKING?

Seriously though, put the beer down for a sec.

For all you ladies who got some procedures scheduled this week!!...

Why Avoid Alcohol? Baby Steps!

Panic at the disco

Oh mah gawd. A wonderful woman from the free state of North...

Shucks: Places, People! Curtain in 5!!

Really? Fucking pull it together, brain! Creating psychosomatic symptoms

micek: holy shit, this is amazing. Are those the ghosts of your...

"Society does not need more children; but it does need more loved children. Quite literally, we..."

Mandatory Abortion Counseling, A Lesson in Disappointment: "Have you considered adoption?"