Damn! That Hurt!

More of my story, previous posts in chronological order;

I Knew, Almost Soon After Conception
"Matt" Didn't Care
Her Views Turned on a Dime

This is probably the scariest part of my story in regards to the first abortion.  I have told of all the events leading up to this moment. 

The following may contain "colorful language" and graphic subject matter.  This is also where memories seem to be the haziest.

After relenting to the having the abortion done my mother came to pick me up to take me to the town she was living in.  See Her Views Turned on a Dime for more on my mother's change of heart in regards to my pregnancy.  I do not remember much about the ride to her apartment.  I do recall her "reassuring talk" about the daughter of one of her friends from work who had an abortion.  When I asked my mother "what if this is the only chance I could have a baby" she responded with telling me about the girl's abortion.  She had said that when the girl's sister was pregnant she told her mother, my mother's work friend, that the baby she was carrying could be "the spirit of her sister's aborted baby."  I have recently been seeing this whole "spirit of the aborted baby come back in a new baby" sort of thing in a few "words of comfort" stories.  I don't think I actually bought it then, and I sure as hell don't buy it now!  But at that time, I was grabbing at straws and trying to believe anything while nothing seemed believable.  S
he also told me that I would have plenty of chances to have more children and would be married and settle down.  How did she know that?  Did she really believe what she was saying?  The future is no guarantee.

I do not know if "Matt" knew about me visiting my mother or not.  I may have told him, I may have not.  The next day we went to the abortion clinic.  I do not know if the trauma has blocked out my memory or if I had been drugged, possibly to not notice any protestors or just basic avoid backing out.  Either way, I do not recall the drive to the clinic.  Though I do know exactly where it was.  The locale was inside an older plaza type building.  It is now another business, with a Planned Parenthood across the street in a newer building.  I do not recall the walking in.  I do not recall anything about the waiting area.  I do not know if I sat in the waiting area or if I was ushered directly into the "procedure" room.  I do not know if there were other people in the waiting area.  I do not remember filling out the paper work.  I do not know if my mother stayed in the waiting room or not.

The only time I was told anything about what would happen was in the "procedure" room.  I was told by someone I assumed was a nurse that they would be applying local anesthesia to my cervix.  Then use a few instruments to dilate the cervix. Then use a vacuum aspirator to pull the baby out.  They made it sound like the baby would be pulled out in one piece.  Not that that makes it any better, just less gory than the reality of it being pulled out in pieces.  That seems about right.  I don't think I was really listening.  My body was on the exam table, but I have no clue where the hell my mind was. I do not recall actually seeing the instruments or given many details.
I do not recall when the doctor was in the room.  He may have been there as soon as I arrived in the room or later after the anesthesia.  Or not there at all.  I really don't know. 
They told me it wouldn't hurt a bit and it would just be a pinch.  LIARS!  It freakin hurt like hell!!!  I literally felt like every damn organ was being sucked out!  It was at that moment that I decided there is no God.  The moment of my rejection of God is only a revelation I have only realized until now. 

I must have gotten up off the table.  That or I floated to the doorway.  Either option is a possibility.  The nurse type lady told me that I would need to sit in a recovery room.  I had horrible cramping in my abdomen, bowels and rectal area.  The best way to describe it was like my butthole was getting ready to release an atomic fart, but something was obstructing it.  I recall making a dumb joke that I wasn't sure if I wanted to puke or take a dump.  That is the last thing I remember.  Perhaps I used the restroom, perhaps I didn't.  I do not even remembering being in the recovery room.  I do not know if I slept, read a magazine, watched TV or stared at a wall until my mother picked me up.  I do not remember her taking me from the clinic.

I do not recall how long I was at my mother's apartment.  I don't know if I slept or what I did during that time.  The only thing I clearly remember after that was going to a Wal-Mart with my mother.  We were in line waiting to purchase our items.  Behind us was a couple about my age.  They had a baby in a stroller with them.  The baby was crying.  Basic fussing, like babies do, not causing too much of a scene.  I was about ready to burst into tears.  I asked my mother for the car keys to wait in the car.
I bolted out of that store so fast.  The moment I got in the car I bawled like never before.  Tears streaming down my face and hyperventilating in my breathing.  My mother got in the car.  Asked me what was wrong.  Really?  She couldn't put the two together?  I said something to the effect of "I killed my baby" or "I will never see my baby" or both of those things.  Her response?  Oh, that's all. I thought maybe the baby was annoying you and something about I did the right thing, it was no big deal, I would get over it, etc.  Then and there I decided that the only thing to do was to be numb about the situation.

The aftermath...To be continued...