I already hate this blog.

If I’d made one different choice months ago I would be about to give birth to my baby instead of pouring my broken heart and bleeding soul out to strangers on the Internet.

When you have an abortion, you certainly don’t talk about it with friends and family.  You barely make eye contact with the other women in the clinic that day. You don’t speak of it to anyone. It’s the most shameful secret a woman can carry.

I can’t talk about this to anyone in my world. So here I am. It has been 6 months and the empty, throbbingly painful numb I feel has completely engulfed me. I am usually a talker. So not being able to speak of this to anyone has only made my black hole grow.  It screams at me. It whips at me mid-happy sentence. It swallows me hole at the edge of the ocean on vacation. It creeps up just as I fall asleep.  It tortures me constantly, invading every single moment of my life. And rightfully so. I can never take back what I did in that moment that is now just a tiny blip in time.

Actually, I can speak about this to my baby’s father who I am still dating, and who is wonderful but he requires his own post at a later date.  And as amazing as he is, he’s not my girlfriends who soothe and heal me on all matters (that I can admit to).

Make no mistake, I’m not looking for pity here. I’m a grown woman who made a choice. A choice that seemed necessary and, oddly, right at the time.