When I was 16 I accidentally fell pregnant and my mom told me, very matter of fact, that having a baby would ruin my life and the next day she had me down a Family Planning Centre and the first steps were in place for me to have a termination. No discussion was had, she never asked me once what I wanted and I just went along with it. She also told me I was not allowed to tell anyone else in my family that I was pregnant so I was utterly alone. I remember the night before my termination I just wanted to run away but I was too scared too.
On the morning of the termination I cried the whole way there and not once did my mom even ask if I was ok, she just carried on driving.
As I lay on the anaesthetic table and they came at me with the syringe to give me the anaesthetic I was desperate to cry out, to tell them I didn't want to do it, but I didn't. From the start my mom had made me feel like the choice was not mine to make.
After the termination my life completely spiralled and I changed into someone I didn't recognise, I was always drinking, destructive behaviours, having sex with lots of men, I just went crazy. I was full of guilt for what I had done and full of guilt that I hadn't had the courage to stand up to my mom. I hated myself.
For years and years I tortured myself over it all, went over and over it again in my mind, constantly berating myself for letting it happen. The ironic thing is that I was so, so angry at myself but never felt anger towards my mother.
Every year when the anniversary date of the termination came around I would shut myself away for days and just cry. I did the same when the anniversary of the due date came around each year too.
I lived a life where no matter what I did the trauma of my experience stayed with me every day - it was always there behind my smiles and it was like a weight I carried around with me.
I would say it took about 12 years until I actually made some kind of peace with it. The only way I realised that I was on the road to recovery was because one year the anniversary date of the termination came and went without me even realising it.
I'm 33 now, so 17 years have passed and I would say that it's only in the last 2-3 years that I've found myself in a place where I can think about the termination, and talk about it, without crying.
What happened is never, ever spoken about between me and my mom anymore. We act like it never happened. Once, when I was about 23 she made a reference to it and described it as "that trouble I once got myself in" but since then it's never been mentioned.
You have my sympathies because emotionally coping with a forced termination is soul destroying in a lot of painful ways 