by Kelli

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I’m pregnant. I just found out. I’m having an abortion on Saturday at 10 a.m….

I don’t want to have an abortion, which is why I got an IUD — to give myself a 99 percent chance of not having to consider the procedure for a decade, or ever. (Clearly the IUD failed, so I guess I’m the 1 percent.) What I definitely, definitely don’t want, immeasurably more than I don’t want to have an abortion, is to be pregnant or have a child.

So I’m not going to. At least, not right now….

Despite all the support I’ve received, I have walked around furious for the past week at the thought of those anonymous people who would tell me I’m wrong not to stay pregnant. I’ve tried to analyze my rage in an effort to cope with it, and I’m sure it has something to do with my ardent conviction that women deserve the right to choose what happens to their bodies. Usually, my rage compels me toward something productive. But I don’t have time for that at the moment, because I’m having an abortion on Saturday at 10 a.m.

So being angry hasn’t done much for me this week. I’m still pregnant and don’t want to be. My IUD still doesn’t work and needs to be removed from my uterus, and I still don’t know what my next form of birth control will be, or if I’ll ever feel comfortable trusting any contraceptive again. I hope this experience will make me a better activist, but I can’t foresee if it will just yet.

Right now I don’t feel like an activist at all, just a woman who’s having an abortion. I’m a woman fortunate enough to have so much love and support I don’t know how to process it all. That’s rare and special, but still it feels like no one can help me much at the moment. This weekend the people who love me will sit in the waiting room while I walk into my abortion by myself. I don’t know what comes next, how or if this will change who I am. Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. I can’t know that now. It isn’t Saturday yet.

~ Jenny Kutner, Salon, August 1

[Photo via telegraph.co.uk]

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