Jane Doe 16

My story: I was in my third year of University when I found out I was pregnant. It was surreal and I was instantly excited. I had never exercised in my head that my body was capable of this. After all, I was 22 and life was simple.


I wasn’t excited for long. My partners reaction was similar to my own except “not right now”. I was dizzy. How could I let this happen? I was in healthcare, I should know better. How could I support a child? I had no money, insufficient education, no supports. I pictured bringing children into a world with stability and to provide nutritional meals, opportunity to play sports and all things children should have.


I booked an appointment. Knowing there were pills with the ability to induce miscarriage, I requested this but was denied due to physician discomfort. I was also unable to obtain 2 physician notes to access abortion service at the QEH II. Embarrassment drove me to keep me from delving any further.


I called the Morgantaler clinic and quickly learned they only provided their service on Tuesdays. Tuesday’s were days I could not miss in school or else I would risk being dismissed.  However spring break would soon be here. And so I waited. 5 weeks and 3 days I waited.


Like many, I debated my decision. Was it the right one? Would I be fine? Was I lesser of a person for choosing to get rid of “my problem”? I didn’t need anyone’s opinion, because I had my own and beat myself up enough.


The day came, my best friend drove me over and reassured me the whole way it was my choice and I wasn’t alone. Upon arrival at the clinic, there were people with signs. They blocked the entrance waving their images of dead babies at me. They swarmed our vehicle calling me a whore and saying I would go to hell for killing my child. Others offered me help and pleaded not to go in. Clinic staff wearing orange quickly escorted us safely inside.


To my surprise it was packed. The routine order was done, consents, blood tests, ultrasound, payment. And 5 of us were given robes and say in a room like an assembly line. I learned about these girls, after one had started conversation. There was myself, a yoga teacher, an 18 year old, a drug user, a mother with already too many children and a girl who had been raped.


We were all there on our different circumstance, and yet all for the same reason. These girls provided me calm when I felt as though I was in hell.


The procedure was painful, relieving, grief provoking, and felt very final.


I left and returned home and life went back to how it has always been. I often forget about that choice I made, but when I am reminded the guilt comes back. I don’t think that will ever change. Although I made this decision and felt it was best for me, I still experienced a loss for which there is no compassion or understanding given. I grieved in silence and in a way accepted this, as though I deserved to for the choice I made.


Whether people approve or not, this is a still a reality and needs to be addressed.

Anonymous – PEI

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