I'm not a mom, I still have years to decide whether or not, I want to be one day.
was 15 years old and my life stopped the day I learned that I was pregnant. After two weeks of nausea, pains in the stomach, rules that did not arrive, after days and nights to convince me that everything was fine, to try to chase in mind the potential fetus in becoming who had visibly installed in my belly, I had to face the facts and face what was happening.
I was scared, I was not surrounded, I dared not tell my parents. I wanted to have the time, the time to realize, to think, to ask myself the question, to have the CHOICE. My parents would put me in the car direction planning for an abortion illico presto . I got confirmation later, when I told them.
The boy I was with at that time was not very helpful in this ordeal. I was all alone, screwed on my classroom chair, terrified.
Fortunately, I told the nurse at my high school. Fortunately, she had the kindness and understanding not to ask me questions, not to lecture me, to tell me do not worry, everything will be fine. She settled my absence in high school so that I could go to the planning, accompanied by the mother of a friend.
She was of a professionalism and a humanity that I still thank.
At the hospital, I felt stupid, nil, alone. Observed.
The quota of pregnant teenager. The quota of "unconscious".
The psychologist received me in his office and asked me why I was there. She knew it very well. I told him that I was pregnant and that I wanted to have an abortion. She asked me "why". I told him that I was 15, that I lived with my parents, that the person with whom it happened was not by my side. She asked me why I wanted to abort. And I wanted to scream at him that I had nothing to give to a child, that I was still a child, that I did not want this child, that I wanted to be told remove it as soon as possible before I get attached to it, before I change my mind.
During the operation, I remember the doctor talking to the nurses, things and so on, too much light on the ceiling.
I was not told about psychological support then, I had to do the steps myself, noting that the shock was too hard.
I was not reassured, I was not told that it was not serious, that it was the right thing to do. I had to tell myself, day after day, all alone.
I felt I had to prove that I had a good reason to want to abort.
Four years later, the right to abortion was threatened in nigeria 4 years later I remembered that if the right to abortion did not exist in France, for free, I would have to go to protest with my child of 4 years in the arms, from the height of my 19 years.
Today, we have returned to the same point. Do we really have to defend that kind of stuff? Really?
Do you really have to fight to explain how bad we would be if we were forced to have these children?
Six years after this episode of my life, I still have the feeling of having to explain it to myself, to use it to support my purpose. I still have the impression that I have to prove by A + B to arrears that abolishing access to abortion is not nonsense.
I'm not a mom, I still have years to decide whether or not, I want to be one day. And if one day it must be illegal to not be a mother, I will walk on the side of the outlaws.
I will drop my pen here, thanks to 