No One Could Know

Though “No One Could Know,” my masked emotions weren’t a good cover to my mom. Following is an excerpt from Chapter Three which details how she found out about my abortion — and her reaction:

… It wasn’t long before our deep dark secret came to light.

One morning I was getting ready in my bathroom adjacent to my room when Mom came in and sat down on my water bed. We had a little conversation and apparently I answered her sharply.

She asked, “Why have you been such a b– lately? Are you on the pill?”

I was stunned at her language and realized that my behavior must have been quite rude since she was speaking to me in a way she never had before. For the life of me, I could not think of a specific conversation or event that would have made her clash with me like this. I must have just been being quite a grouch overall. I felt badly that I’d somehow offended her and had no clue how to answer. Why was I coming across in such an awful way? I felt that I had every reason to be, but how could I tell her? I was tired of acting “normal.” Clearly I was not about to win any academy awards.

My silent stone face angered her all the more, and she raised her voice, demanding answers. She shouted her interrogation this time, “Are you on the pill? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?”

I had to answer her; I was now cornered in the bathroom. I squared my shoulders and stood eye to eye—not wanting to hurt her—but grateful that someone I knew truly cared for me and was finally rolling up their sleeves to get into my messy, putrid business.

I simply said “No, I’m not on the pill … ,” I paused to be sure I wanted the truth to fall out of my mouth. “ … I … had an abortion.”

I said it. There it was, and there was no taking it back—for real or in that conversation.

Her reaction was astounding. Her face opened wide with shock, and she hurled herself back hard onto my bed, flailing her arms and feet around, pounding my bed with her fists, and screaming, “NO! NO! NO! NO!”

She wailed a dreadfully awful cry that I had so longed to let loose from my own heart. It sounded pathetic and deep like it came from the inside of her very bones.

I stood there watching her for what seemed like hours. I just stood there watching her crying deplorably, and the more she pounded my water bed, the more violent its waves rolled underneath her.

It was too much for me to take in. Were her dreadful sobs born out of the shock that I was no longer a virgin? Was it the blow that her first grandchild was dead before she could even meet him or her? Did she feel sorry for me? Did she hate me? Was she going to kill me like I had taken the life of my own child? For a second I wished she would kill me, so I could stop pretending and be in heaven where there are no more tears or sorrow and it would all be over.

I didn’t quiz, and she didn’t talk—she just cried hysterically. She finally stopped at some point and, much to my amazement, we embraced. Mom is normally a most loving person. If you ever need a hug, you want one from her because she is so comforting and warm, and you know that she truly cares about you. I know now that her cries were out of sheer agony. My mother hurt for me, and the outrageous and emotional news absolutely overtook her—spirit, soul, and body.

I don’t remember what happened after my bathroom encounter with my mom. I never talked to my stepdad about it, nor my dad, or even my stepmom for that matter. We simply did not talk about it.

No one could know.

If you were involved with an abortion, you too have likely lived with suppressed emotions, and likely even PTSD symptoms like I did. If you’re looking for help, I’m listening.