My Abortion Stories

At 18, I had an IUD. One day, mid-coitus, my partner yelped. An embryo had spurned the device. Ouch.

Mother took me to the hospital, then brought me home, tucked me in, and fed me sweet and savory support.

At 19, I tried being a party girl. Didn’t like it. Or the host who climbed on top and fucked my barely conscious body.

I took myself to Planned Parenthood, raged in humiliated silence, swore a life of celibacy.

At 20, well-armed with a diaphragm and jelly—and with affirmative consent, I discovered those mighty swimmers could still make it across the channel.

I took myself back to Planned Parenthood, grateful and without remorse, relieved to exercise my bodily autonomy.

At 31, I chose to birth my favorite person. Now, at 64, I fear what havoc the patriarchy will wreak upon her body. On all child-bearing bodies. I know I have to act, to resist, to disrupt—whatever it takes. Will enough of us do so?

With love and fury,
K-B

P.S. As a diehard fan of reproductive justice, I know politics and dogma don't belong between my legs or anyone else's. Abortion must be safe, legal and accessible. However, in those states where the patriarchy prevails, there are options:

• Visit Plan C, a guide to safe, in-home medication abortion and how to order abortion pills or

• Visit Abortion on Demand for physician-supported medication abortion care online (not available in all U.S. states) or

• There are always folks who know how to put a bit of sterile tubing, some suction, and a mayonnaise jar to good use.