Posted on 03/21/2007 11:50:18 PM PDT by Lorianne
Sitting opposite my friend Carly at her kitchen table, the excitement on her face was clear. "Are you ready to look?" she said eagerly. "I don't think I can wait any longer."
Just minutes before, we had both taken pregnancy tests. We'd agreed that we would find out the results together, and now the moment of truth had arrived.
"It's positive!" she screamed with delight, as we placed the plastic sticks side by side on her table.
"And oh-my-goodness, Susan - so is yours!"
I felt my stomach lurch. The last thing I wanted was to have a baby, but looking at the huge grin on my best friend's face I could hardly bring myself to tell her.
She'd always wanted to be a mum, and now she was going to get the chance - but I felt sick at the thought.
That was in December 1998 and I had just turned 25. Finding out I was pregnant was like being told I had to serve a life sentence.
Lots of girls in my position would have been delighted. I had been with my boyfriend Dave, who was 31, for seven years and we'd been talking about moving in together, so I had a stable partner who I knew loved me.
I wasn't a silly 17-year-old who couldn't handle the responsibility of bringing up a child. As a fullygrown woman with a good job as an estate agent, I knew I could be a good mother. The problem was I didn't feel ready.
Carly and I had been friends since we were ten and had spent 15 years doing everything together. She was - and still is - my closest confidante, so when I missed my period after drunken sex without a condom, it was Carly I called.
"That's so weird because I've missed mine, too," was her response. We worked out that we'd both had unprotected sex (she and her fiancé Callum were trying for a baby) within just a few days of each other.
Now we were both waiting, with very different hopes, to see if our periods would arrive.
It seemed natural that we would take our pregnancy tests together because we'd shared so many experiences over the years - first days at school, double dates - but this would be the last time our lives would go in the same direction.
When we realised we were both expecting, Carly couldn't wait to tell Callum - but I hated the thought of being pregnant and felt no connection whatsoever to my baby.
When I told Dave, he was over the moon. I'd thought we would have years together seeing the world before we started trying for a family, but he was obviously ready to settle down.
Our different attitudes to my pregnancy made me think he wasn't the right man for me and that I shouldn't have his child. Reluctantly, I came to the conclusion that I should have an abortion.
Dave was a good guy, so when I told him I wanted a termination he agreed to support me even though he was devastated.
My doctor asked me if I wanted time to think about it, but I had made my mind up and nothing was going to change it.
Of course, all Carly could talk about was her baby, and I knew I had to tell her what I was considering doing.
Although she was supportive of my decision, she did encourage me to consider keeping the baby.
I think she struggled to see how I could contemplate not having it. It must have been very tough for her to see me snuff out the life of my child when one roughly the same age was growing inside her.
At 12 weeks, I went to an NHS hospital near my home in North London and had a vacuum aspiration abortion under general anaesthetic.
Within a few hours I was on my way home, tearful and distressed, but relieved that I could now forget about being pregnant and get on with my life.
It wasn't that I didn't want to give up my life as I knew it: I just didn't want to pass up the opportunity of what the future might hold.
I wanted to travel, have more experiences and reach my full potential. I didn't think I could do that with a baby.
It was only years later that I realised how blinkered I had been. As the months went on, Carly blossomed and I was genuinely happy for her.
When her son Casey was born in August 1999, she called me from the hospital to ask me to be his godmother. I said yes immediately and was so touched that she wanted me to play such a big part in his life.
The first time I saw him, snuggled in her arms, I burst into tears. He was so perfect. And when she handed him to me and I smelled that lovely 'baby smell', I couldn't help but feel a slight pang of regret.
But seeing how happy Carly was made me even more sure that I wasn't ready for motherhood. I knew that I needed to be with the right man and at a stage in my life when I really longed to have a child.
A few weeks later, determined to make a new start, Dave and I decided to call off our relationship and I took a job on a cruise ship as a tour hostess, which involved taking guests on trips and looking after them during their stay.
I dined at the Captain's table every night, met interesting people and travelled all over the world.
For three years I lived the high life and never gave a thought to settling down. I'd get weekly calls from Carly telling me about her life of domestic bliss, but, while I was happy for her, it didn't appeal to me.
Then, as I approached 29, something changed. Like so many women I know, my biological clock began ticking very loudly.
I knew I wasn't going to meet anyone working on cruises, because all the guests were married, so I decided to move back to London, get a steady job as a property agent and find a partner.
I didn't want to enter my 30s alone.
After a few months I met Michael, who was 34, through mutual friends.
He was going through a messy divorce, but at first things were great between us. He had a four-year-old son and a two-year-old daughter who stayed with him every weekend, and the more time I spent with them, the more broody I became.
I really felt Michael was the right man, and for the first time I began to see myself with a child. When, seven months into our relationship, my period was late, I was really pleased.
By then, Michael and I were living together and I expected him to be as pleased as I was. I cooked a lovely meal, lit candles and planned to tell him over dinner.
When he arrived home from work, he must have sensed something was up because he said to me with a laugh: "You're not pregnant, are you?"
"How did you guess?" I replied, expecting him to throw his arms around me - but instead the news was met with a look of horror.
He explained that this was not what he wanted when he was going through a divorce, but if I wanted to have 'it' he would stand by me.
He had two kids already, he said, and didn't really want another. With those words my dreams of a perfect little family were shattered.
Again I called Carly, who by this time also had another child, Darcy. She begged me to consider keeping my baby.
"This may be your last chance," she said frankly. "You'll be a wonderful mum. Don't let it pass you by."
But with my relationship with Michael floundering under the strain, I decided I couldn't have my baby after all, no matter how much I wanted it. I was terrified of being a single mother and I just knew he wouldn't stick around.
Reluctantly, I went ahead with an abortion in a private clinic when I was ten weeks pregnant. It was the worst experience of my life.
There were about 20 women - all different ages and backgrounds - sitting in gowns in the waiting room. No one said a word and after 20 minutes I was called in to see the doctor.
Again, I had a vacuum aspiration under general anaesthetic and was back out in Michael's car an hour later.
He reassured me that I'd done the right thing, but I knew instantly that I'd made the biggest mistake of my life.
The feeling of emptiness was unbearable and all I could think about was how much I wanted my baby back.
Two months later, when Michael and I split up, it dawned on me that I would have been much happier if I'd kept my child. I didn't love Michael but I knew I would have loved our baby.
The tragedy for me - and thousands of women like me - is that we only realise when it's too late just how precious every life is. It's been three years since I had the second abortion, but every day I think about what I've lost.
It breaks my heart.
Even though I've been on countless dates, I can't seem to find the right man. To be honest, I think they can sense the desperation in women of my age.
At 33, they know that I want to have a baby as soon as possible because time is running out for me.
When I see how contented and fulfilled Carly is, I wish I'd kept my babies.
I might not have the man of my dreams, and I've no doubt I would have struggled as a single mother, but I would have done my best to provide for my family.
Sadly, I realised too late the emotional cost of what I did. I would urge any woman considering an abortion to think long and hard.
When I terminated my first pregnancy, I genuinely believed that I would have another opportunity. But when I had my second abortion, I should have realised that, at 30, it could be my last shot at motherhood because I might never meet the right man.
Now I am considering using a sperm donor. One of my male friends has even offered to father a baby for me, and I'm not ruling that out. I would do anything to experience the joy of motherhood.
Carly and I have remained friends throughout, but I can't deny that I'm jealous of her. While I prioritised myself and my career, she realised that ultimately nothing will make a woman happier than a good relationship and children.
The hardest thing is visiting her and seeing the love that she shares with her children. The feelings of regret for what I've lost haunt me every day.
Carly McGregor, 33, is a full-time mother. She lives in Edinburgh with her husband Callum, 30, a computing executive, and their children Casey, seven, and Darcy, four. Carly says:
When Susan told me she was having an abortion the first time, I struggled to hold back the tears. Not just because I wanted to share the experience of motherhood with her, but because I knew she was making the worst mistake of her life.
Even if Susan didn't want to stay with the baby's father, I couldn't understand why she would want to terminate her child's life.
Despite my reservations, I supported her because that's what good friends do - but it was extremely hard for me because I was so looking forward to having my baby and felt so sad for hers. In the back of my mind I worried, too, that she might have passed up her only chance of motherhood.
At 25, so many young women think having a baby is boring. Why change nappies when you can be dancing till dawn or climbing the career ladder? Well, I'll tell you why.
Because after the lights have come up in a nightclub, or a promotion has been won, you won't be left with the tremendous sense of satisfaction and joy that a child will give you for the rest of your life.
Yes, you'll have moments when they cry all day or fail all their exams and you'll want to tear your hair out, but those times pass - and what you are left with is a relationship so wonderful that nothing could ever top it.
Seeing Susan as unhappy as she is now is incredibly difficult for me because I can't relate to her pain.
I'm not being smug or self-righteous, because I strongly believe that every woman has the right to choose what they do with their life, but the problem is that these days many don't know what they want.
Susan was terrified of missing out on something - of not having a great job and, most of all, of being a single mum. But - and I'm sure a lot of mothers will agree with me here - most of the time you act as a single mum anyway, even if you have a partner.
My husband is wonderful and adores his children, but he works all day, so it's down to me to look after the children and take on that caring role.
When I had my son, Susan was the obvious choice for godmother because she is such a loving person.
But I believe society has conditioned Susan and many others like her to fight that maternal nature in favour of careers.
Women are led to believe they are not worthy unless they have 'achieved' something before they have a family - but isn't raising little human beings achievement enough? I am still extremely hopeful that Susan will meet someone. I really want to see her happy.
When Susan comes to visit us now, she can't take her eyes off the children.
She cooks with them, reads them bedtime stories and pushes them on the swings. She will do anything to see a smile on their faces.
I pray that one day she'll have her own children to do that with. What a terrible waste of such a nurturing woman if she never does.
Women need to stop killing babies.
"Women are led to believe they are not worthy unless they have 'achieved' something before they have a family - but isn't raising little human beings achievement enough?"
This is so true. The really sad thing is that it's women telling women this.
Where did this woman put her brain? She was in her 30's, not 15. She's never heard of adoption? She's never heard of birth control?
Of course she has, but legal abortion gives her multiple opportunities to make someone else die to support her bad decisions.
Two words---selfish bitch.
so she repeatedly made one bad decision after another and now has regrets. boo hoo.
she feels badly, but there are two lives that feel nothing because of her self indulgence. What was she using for birth control when she got preggo twice?
and what hapenned to Dave? you know that guy who knew what he wasnted (the first kid) and she devastated and then discarded for some other nitwit?
ah! the ruined lives in this narcisists wake! they're the ones I feel sorry for, not her.
"Two words---selfish bitch."
You are too kind!
Every sentence begins, includes and ends and with ME, I, MY or MINE.
That the taxpayer-supported NHS (National Health Service) pays for these baby killings, over and over again illustrates society's depravity.
True. And society needs to stop telling us that abortion is a perfectly acceptable form of birth control.
Beat me to it.
Well, my first thought was "self-absorbed selfish bitch", but then I realized that was redundant.
Making abortion illegal would help.
Women are making conscious choices among the options. This woman - not a 12-year-old rape victim or a drug-addicted welfare queen - had the choices to avoid screwing around, to use contraception, to give birth and get married, to give birth and place her children for adoption.
She chose to kill two children, simply because it was the cheapest and most convenient option for her. In my opinion, the cost of that option should go way up!
I agree. I wasn't making excuses for her. Just pointing out that in the current climate, we're told that abortion is a quick and easy fix for an unwanted pregnancy.
And I wasn't arguing with you, just expanding the discussion regarding the interplay of costs and outcomes.
(I read a Thomas Sowell article this morning, always makes me think in terms of economic tradeoffs :-).
This woman is a slow moving train wreck. She's probably not smart enogh to raise a kid anyway.
Time to stop raising daughters with the notion that promiscuity is a form of exercise and stop raising sons to think of sex as a video game.
We need to teach our sons about manhood, which does not include dumping their posterity in a garbage disposal.
We need to teach our daughters that pregnancy is a privilege and maternity a miracle.
She had her first two children murdered and now wants sympathy for not having them? Tough.
The other woman is just as bad, IMO. She talks about babies as if they are something you get from the grocery store to make yourself happier, not irreplaceable PEOPLE.
kind sounds like the kid who murdered his parents then begged sympathy because he is an orphan.
She didn't kill two children so I can't agree that she is "just as bad".
I meant attitude wise. She sees no problem with the abortions except how they affect her friend. Total selfishness.
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