D-Day: A trip to the (HOOD) 🤰🏾

Hey Siri, Play Know That You Are Loved X Cleo Sol

Hey Siri, Play Know That You Are Loved X Cleo Sol

Remember when I mentioned that you might not always like what I have to say? Well, this is one of those times. A few weeks ago, I was scrolling through Twitter and came across a tweet that sent me spiraling into a rabbit hole of overthinking.

This tweet reminded me of the relationship I had with my biological father growing up. I use that phrase intentionally because I acknowledge that the "cool girl" you all know wouldn't exist without him. I'll give him his 10s. However, we are no contact. It might seem petty, but I want to put as much distance between us as possible. That's a story for another day—pass the tissues; I have daddy issues.

While reading comments from mothers expressing their frustrations and adult children reflecting on all the times their absentee fathers left their mothers to pick up the pieces, I couldn't help but wonder:

👉🏾 Why is this experience so common? Lying unprovoked about coming to see your child should be a crime!

👉🏾 Why did my mom have a second kid with my biological father? If I could travel back in time, I would find my mom and tell her, "I'm from the future! He’s a loser, please reconsider."

👉🏾 What was he like before having children? My mom is one of the most intelligent women I know. No shade, but how did she end up dating, marrying, and having multiple children with such a loser?

👉🏾 What if I hadn’t had that abortion? That could be me! Call me jaded, but the only way to ensure I don’t suffer is to not have a child. Nothing can save a woman from a deadbeat dad—not education, not marriage, not religion. The more people share online, the more it reveals the unpredictability of men!

Even the "worst" mothers, who by all standards are unfit and are one CPS call away from losing full custody, still, albeit begrudgingly, have full custody their children.

Parenthood isn't optional for women in the same way it is for men. Men get to choose how and when they show up, if at all. They can wake up and decide to start over, playing stepdad to a new set of children while neglecting their own flesh and blood. Women, on the other hand, often lack the luxury of such choices.

They're expected to shoulder the responsibility of parenthood, regardless of their circumstances or desires. Society has a deeply ingrained expectation that motherhood should be the defining identity of women, often overshadowing their individual aspirations and goals. This societal pressure leaves little room for women to explore their own identities outside of the role of a mother.

Lady in Orange! Karmen’s Abortion

Life is funny, isn't it? Have you ever thought you wanted something, only to get it and then think, "Oops, I actually don’t"? Well, back in 2019, I found myself in a serious, committed relationship with a man. I blame Disney for my obsession with romance, love, and relationships.

As the relationship progressed, I found myself entangled in a cocktail of conflicted feelings—haha, if you know, you know! I wasn't quite sure if the life he was envisioning and the life I was dreaming of were even in the same universe. Simply put, I was unsure.

I was knee-deep in therapy at this point, attending sessions weekly. I was evolving emotionally and suddenly found myself questioning everything: my relationship with God, my belief system, and redefining what a happy life looked like for me. Then, bam! Along came my unplanned pregnancy while on MF birth control. WTF!

Admittedly, for the first 12 hours, I was genuinely excited. Like a damn fool—feeding off the energy of my mama, who was excited, my then boyfriend, and then I told my best friends, AKA “Terror Squad,” a very egregious group who takes nothing seriously. If the chat ever leaks, people would want to FIGHT.

So I tell these hussies they will be aunts by dropping a picture of my positive pee stick. These heifers did not hold back. I’ll be real, it hurt. At that time, I was “sold” on keeping the baby. I didn’t message them on “I need advice” type time either. They had nothing supportive to say. I ended up not speaking to one of my friends who I thought went a little too hard for a few weeks. It forever shifted how I share in our relationship.

I was beyond disappointed. They weren’t wrong. However, honesty did not have to be so damn brutal. If you have black women friends, you know how raw and sometimes rough honest conversations can be. I’ll admit I’ve dished out my own brutal honesty. We were 23/24 at the time. I don’t think any of us had the emotional maturity to communicate well. Cause why was all this discourse happening in damn text? Haha.

A day later, as I lounged in the warm embrace of my boyfriend's bathtub, the words of my girlfriends echoed in my mind: "those b*tches were right." Their delivery might have irked me, but damn, they cooked. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Did I truly want to be a parent? Was I capable of parenting? It wasn't just about a baby. Regardless of what my boyfriend or my mama envisioned, it boiled down to one simple truth: this child would be mine. It could very well end up just me and this baby, navigating the world together. But there was another layer to consider - my partner's lackluster connection to his own blackness as a biracial man. I wasn’t confident in how he’d parent a visibly black child, especially a dark-skinned one. I found myself grappling with the decision of who would become this future child's father. They wouldn't have a say, yet the consequences of my choice would shape their life profoundly, just like my mother’s choice shaped mine – hello anxious attachment style.

Therapy was helping me sift through the layers of resentment I harbored towards my mother's choice in a father for me. It was easier to blame her, as accountability requires closeness, a bond I sorely lacked with my own biological father. For years, I unfairly judged my mom. It's a tangled web of emotions, one that I hope to explore in a later blog about “Daddy Issues”.

The realization dawned upon me - having a baby and being a parent were two different things. I wasn't equipped to take on the latter, no matter the circumstances. I had a choice.

And with that, my fate was sealed.

Before I even left the damn bathroom, I had scheduled my appointment at Planned Parenthood. I was leading with my feelings, thinking I wanted to keep the child. I was romanticizing motherhood and this ‘baby’ I did not know from a can of paint—putting a stranger's needs before my own! I had to prioritize myself.

Therefore, f*ck them kids. I decided to have an abortion.

I am a better communicator now. Back then? Not so much. During dinner, I told my then-boyfriend I was having an abortion. It wasn’t a conversation. He knew that too. His body language gave him away. Despite not agreeing, he simply told me “ok”. He wasn’t pro-choice due to his religion, which is ironic because he was PRO-premarital sex lmao. I can't stand negroes!

Friends, it was just like the movies when I went. Those people were outside with signs, telling me I was going to hell. Ask me, did I care? Nope. Those people would be nowhere to be found when my hypothetical baby needed community or hell diapers.

I went to my abortion alone. By choice at the time I was living in GA. I needed to act fast. The process was very sobering. I couldn’t believe I was having an abortion—how unserious. The receptionist assigned me a color so that no one's name would be said out loud. When I went back to the patient room, the tech asked me if I wanted to hear the heartbeat. Y’all, I was literally less than 6 weeks along. There wasn’t a damn heartbeat. I won't get into the science, but whatever.

They were diligent, making sure I was sure. While the nurse was explaining the process of taking the pills, all I could think about was what if someone recognizes my car or sees me walking out. Why does Planned Parenthood in East Atlanta have to sit on Moreland Ave like that? Lol, it's a bit much. I’d like some privacy while I handle my business.

My Life After

Even though I was over 21, I didn't truly feel like a grown woman until after my abortion. Perhaps it was the therapy, but I largely credit the abortion for maturing me. Interestingly, it also made my menstrual cycle a lot more manageable—though I'm not sure of the science behind that, it's simply my truth. This experience deeply changed how I viewed all my interactions with men. I began to understand the severity and weight of whom I chose to share space with—after all, any one of these individuals could potentially become the father of my child, especially with the current abortion laws.

While my relationship never fully recovered from the abortion, it was ultimately a good thing. The experience shined a light on all the imperfections and highlighted how fundamentally incompatible we were at our core. My abortion was necessary for my personal growth and has led me to make more informed decisions in my life, centering myself, something I don’t think Black women do enough. Historically, Black women have often prioritized the needs of others over their own, shouldering the burdens of their families, communities, and society at large. This ingrained sense of responsibility often leaves little room for self-care and self-advancement.

What’s the big deal? It’s her body.

I originally planned to share at least four abortion stories. However, this blog would never end. I will definitely need to follow up with a part two focused solely on those interviews. Stay tuned.

Abortion is such a fascinating topic. I learned so much and truly appreciate the honesty of the women who felt safe enough to share their stories.

There is one story I want to include alongside mine. Let's delve into the story of the Lady in Blue, Sevyn. Now aged 26 and a mother to a very affectionate and lively 2-year-old, she had an abortion at the age of 19. Interviewing her made me emotional. There was a stark contrast between our experiences. She didn’t get to make her own choice but still believes it was the best decision. The complexity of her experience and how it shaped her as a mother years later is profound.

Lady in Blue! Sevyn’s Abortion

When I found out I was pregnant, I was still on campus, right before finals during my spring semester. I knew something was up because, like clockwork, my period would come every month. However, this month, I was late. I knew I was pregnant. My sneaky link at the time was supportive. He didn’t have a strong opinion about what I should do.

I was living in my own world, coming to terms with the fact I would be a mother soon. I wasn't excited, but I wasn’t mad at it. I was more anxious than scared, but hopeful. However, I still needed to tell my mom. Part of me knew she wouldn’t react well. I decided to wait as long as possible since I wasn’t showing yet. I unconsciously made a plan to tell her when I was past the point of no return. Boy, did that backfire.

As summer break was coming to an end, I texted my mom that I was pregnant. Surprisingly, she wasn’t angry! She was a little disappointed but seemed supportive. Then I woke up. It was as if a switch had been flipped overnight. My mom was now insisting that I terminate the pregnancy. Deep down, I wanted to keep my baby, but it was as if my mouth didn't work. I wasn't able to advocate for myself or my baby. Next thing I knew, I was en route to my D&C. Because I was so far along, I had a total of three appointments. There was one week between the first appointment and the actual termination.

The experience was traumatic; it was cold, and the day moved like an assembly line. I had to disconnect from my body. The procedure wasn’t physically painful. The anesthesia knocked me out before I could finish counting to 10. It was so quick, I woke up feeling like a question mark. Emotionally though? It stripped me down to the bones. That was only the beginning of the turmoil that followed. I had to return to campus. Life continued, but I was living on an island, drowning in my own grief with no one to confide in.

I cried.
I sobbed.
I mourned.

A Conversation with Sevyn

How did your abortion in 2017 shape your choice to become a mother? To be sure that she’s listening to herself and herself only. Be honest with herself. At the end, AND beginning, of the day, the decision is ultimately hers. Abortions occur more than we realize, she’s not alone. And having one is nothing to be ashamed of, or feel lesser than about.

What advice would you give a woman considering an abortion? To be sure that she’s listening to herself and herself only. Be honest with herself. At the end, AND beginning, of the day, the decision is ultimately hers. Abortions occur more than we realize, she’s not alone. And having one is nothing to be ashamed of, or feel lesser than about.

Do you regret your abortion? Would you ever have another one? At the time, I did. But now that I’m older, more mature, and have a child, I don’t. Even though I didn’t realize it at the time, it was the better decision.

Yes, I would have another one. As a, now, single mom, I know what comes with having a child. So I know even more now what I’d have consider if I chose to keep, or abort, another pregnancy.

What would you say to your mother, if you could go back in time?I’d let her know how I felt, honestly. And ask her the reason(s) why she made me do it, honestly. I’d ask her that when I needed to talk about, could we.. I really needed a safe space just to talk about it, especially the after emotions, and I didn’t have that. I wish she would’ve been that safe space.

Let’s Wrap it Up

If you're still here, I appreciate you. To all the women and men who shared their stories, I am forever grateful. Women deserve the right to make choices about their bodies with full autonomy.

Come back next week to delve deeper into the impact of women's choices and how they are navigating life after having an abortion.

Xoxo,

The Cool Girl Karmen

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