| Private Decisions �I am pregnant,� she whispered, sitting across from my desk, looking like her world had shattered. I am sure she felt it had. Charlotte already had two children, one tow headed little boy, three, and her plump sweet five year old girl. She was right in the middle of a messy divorce and this baby wasn�t her husband�s. She was sure who the father was. I knew him and didn�t think much of him. Kevin was a restaurant waiter, guitar player and drifter. Although a good looking man, he was only 24 and a flirt with women. He was not exactly husband or father material. We had become friends because of divorce, both of us going through the tragedy of a marriage ending. There was the option of abortion or adoption. I thought abortion would be the best answer for her. She still had a toddler. I didn�t voice my opinion though. This had to be her decision. After ten minutes of tears and blaming herself, him and life in general, she straightened her back. Then she asked, �Will you drive me to the clinic downtown to end this?� I quickly agreed thinking this was good sense. Being an RN and a friend, I wanted to be the support person for her. We really didn�t have much time to talk again except to make plans. The day that she was scheduled, I picked her up and she seemed calm. It was a Friday morning with gray clouds and rain. How appropriate! I knew there was a possibility of protesters but hadn�t mentioned it to Charlotte, who had enough on her mind. Sure enough, the rain hadn�t kept them away. There were several middle-aged women in polyester pantsuits carrying signs with graphic photos of slaughtered fetuses. I used my cell phone to call into the clinic for a chaperone to escort us into the building. Someone came out immediately but, as we tried to make our way to the door, one lady shouted, �You are going to kill your baby! We can help you. We�ll arrange for an adoption.� Another woman pushed herself in front of us, screaming in a hateful voice, �You�re massacring an innocent life!� I lost it and screamed back, �Leave us alone. This is none of your business!� We got inside the doors safely. The clinic employees apologized for not being out there when we drove up. Charlotte was crying. �Are you okay, Hon?� I asked. �I will be as soon as this is over,� she said. We were shown into the social worker�s office. It was a calm and pretty place. The colors were a soft green and pink, Laura Ashley prints on deep upholstered furniture. There was a large saltwater aquarium and dim lighting, very peaceful. What a contrast from the scene we had just been a part of. A beautiful woman in her fifties rose from behind the Queen Anne desk, �Hello, I�m Janis Sutherland and you must be Charlotte?� she addressed us with a reassuring smile. Charlotte nodded and Janis continued, �I know this hasn�t been an easy decision for you. How are you feeling about it today?� �I am ready to get it over with, I�ve thought of nothing else for days.� Charlotte said. �We just want to make sure you know all the options you have. Do you have questions about the procedure?� she asked. �No, my friend here is a nurse and I work in a hospital. I know what I am doing.� �There are some papers that need to be signed, okay? Let me know if you have any questions at any time, all right?� She had a packet of papers. It took about thirty minutes to go through them all with explanations by Janis and signatures. Then Charlotte was taken to an area to change into a hospital gown, have an IV started and get some sedation prior to the procedure. They had agreed to let me stay with her almost every step of the way. The room was a bright yellow with windows that overlooked a small garden. The hospital could take some lessons from this, I thought. There were some magazines lying on a table and Charlotte asked me to hand her one. It was �Ladies Home Journal� and the cover showed a set of darling brand new quintuplets and their proud parents. A dam broke, and the tears held back so painfully spilled over. �I can not do this!!!!� Charlotte wailed. She pulled out the IV, put her own clothes on, and we left the building. Nurses ran behind us, shouting questions, trying to get papers signed. The protesters cheered us on, which made me as angry as the glares we had gotten going in. Charlotte and I didn�t talk about �it� until I stopped at a restaurant, she said she was hungry. She explained, over eggs and sausage, �I don�t know how I will manage this but I just can�t kill my child. Maybe some women can, but it isn�t me.� Months later, I watched Nicholas John come into this world, a beautiful healthy boy. Note: All the names have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved in this true story. |
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