Transformation

The Time I Went to the Abortion Clinic

If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness
-2 Corinthians 11:30
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It was around noon or 1:00pm, a sunny Saturday. My friend had thought she was leading us to a Planned Parenthood, but it turned out to be the “Abortion Clinic.” I know this because there was a giant sign facing me as I stared out of my window that read “Abortion Clinic.”  I reluctantly turned left into the parking lot. We walked in the door, and into a second door. There was a glass window and on the other side was a medical receptionist. She asked how she could help us and I don’t remember what I said. She asked for our I.D.s and made copies of them. She returned and handed them to us through the open slot of the glass window. They allowed us through the door into the waiting room. I did not want to be there.

The night before, I had driven out of town to see someone. A guy I had been talking to for a month or so maybe two. I knew this person from high school, college affiliations, and mutual friends. Definitely not a Cat Fish situation besides, that tv show did not exist back then. We had made out at a party at some point before. Prior to driving there I decided that I wasn’t going to sleep with him. Fool around? Sure, but I wont go all the way. Just have fun and I’ll only stay for awhile not the whole night.

Well…

I did sleep with him. I did stay the whole night though we didn’t sleep. That’s not innuendo, we didn’t sleep because we couldn’t find the condom afterwards. Lord, take me now- its already so embarrassing. We searched our immediate area and bodies. Nothing. He began to stress… a lot. Sitting there in the awkward uh-oh early morning hours. Perhaps this was a very edgy funny commercial somewhere in the world. Nope- it was real life. My life. Each heavy minute was another confirmation that I should have left a very long time ago. I should have already been home, but now I’m here, dealing with This. I wasn’t worried about what he was worried about. I new I wasn’t going to be pregnant. I just knew. The guy on the other hand, was already 9 months ahead of himself. He had no idea of what to do or what could be done. I suggested Plan B [I didn’t know much about it] but the words brought him relief. He rambled off a bunch of questions, I said I didn’t know. We drove to an ATM and he gave me some cash. How lovely. I drove home and got on the internet to look up Planned Parenthood. They didn’t open until 11am, it was only 7:30am. My logical brain told me to check for the condom one more time. It was exactly where you would imagine. An even bigger confirmation of my poor decision. If this was ever the sign to stop making stupid decisions. I rested until it was around 11am. I texted a friend earlier and asked if she would go with me, but she was busy now. I drove to Planned Parenthood and as I got closer I could see people in the parking lot. As I got even closer, I saw they were protesters with signs. Yet another sign. I did not stop but drove straight to another friend’s apartment near by. I called her and asked if she was busy. She said “No why?” I said because “I’m parked in front of your apartment.” I went inside and explained everything. She agreed to go with me. We went back to Planned Parenthood but everyone was gone and it seemed their front doors were locked. She said she knew of one in what is technically another city but more of an extension of our city.

That’s where this story started at the top. The Abortion Clinic. I sat in the waiting room trying to not look at the other women there. Were they all getting abortions today? Getting Plan B? Regular check-ups? One woman walked out of the hallway crying and straight out of the door. The self-righteous person I was was being humbled. I cant judge anyone in this clinic because I am here with them. I was called back and received Plan B, two pills now and two pills to take 12 hours from now [If I’m not mistaken, Plan B is one pill now]. They told me that if I started to throw up to call them immediately and come back. AHH, reassuring Thanks.

I went home and stayed home that day. I didn’t want to risk throwing up in public anywhere. I text him that I got the pills. After the incident, our friendship was never the same. I didn’t want it to end, I didn’t want to feel used. But it did end and I did feel used. I felt sad briefly but did not forget to place a large chip on my shoulder and add him to the list of guys I held in disdain.

Fast forward a couple of months later, he attempted to apologize to me at a house party. I was there with a boyfriend. I rolled my eyes and was superiorly annoyed. My boyfriend stepped in to tell him that he knew I was owed an apology and “whatever happened before us is whatever.” I enjoyed that but exited my way out of the immediate area. I turned around to find them taking some shots together and sharing some weird level of camaraderie. UGH AS IF! Guys will be guys.

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Fast forward some years later, he sent me a lengthy apology via Facebook. He was leading a program for young men teaching them how to be a man. He saw the irony. It truly was a legit apology. However, if you read my post Save your Sorry- you’ll see I don’t like apologies. I blew his apology off and didn’t respond for many months. When I did, all I said was “Thanks.” I can be a jerk.

Fast forward some even more years later, we ended up working in the same agency. I know right? Only God does things like that. I was so nervous just walking to the restroom or the lounge. Looking around every corner! A mutual friend relayed his fears as well. He told her, he still thought I hated him. I was shocked and disappointed. Disappointed in myself, at this point I had begun to live obediently to Christ. My heart was absolutely over those past events. I had no hate or negativity in my heart for him. It was more of a lets just laugh at all of this silliness between us type of feeling. One day he did see me in the lounge and we chatted as adults do. It was fine.
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Fast forward some months after that, to a Cinco de Mayo night at nightclub. It was his favorite style of Mexican music, music I only dance at Mexican weddings when a man insists I dance with him. Its imperative I roll my eyes first letting the man know I’m only going to dance to amuse him. Of course, we addressed our history. He said “I was just a boy,” —   “I was just a girl.”

That story began 10 years ago. I learned a handful of lessons.

It’s a very good thing to let people know you don’t still hate them.

If someone legitimately apologizes, say more than “Thanks.”

Women sit in abortion clinics all the time, when technically they don’t really want to.

Sometime, sacrificing their comfort to appease some one else.

I’ve always had good friends that never judged me.

I’ve helped new friends by telling them this story.

Its made them understand I’ve definitely made stupid decisions.

We all have stories. Embarrassing, pitiful, shameful. Whatever word you use to describe them. God can come in, change your heart and give you confidence to share them.
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Related Reading:
http://wp.me/p5i4GL-ea
http://wp.me/p5i4GL-13

Related Music:

The Sex Buffet: How Availability Changes the Way Culture Sees Women

 

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