As I go about my workday, I find the physical experience unsettling me in conversations with coworkers, even when my mental haze recedes. A wave of nausea or sudden loss of appetite reminds me in the middle of a meeting that I know something no one else knows: there’s another person growing in this room.
Your baby should not have to die because you don't want to be pregnant.
Okay, she can't make up her mind:
He’s right next to me too during the ultrasound, watching the dark circle in my uterus on the screen. There it is, says the technician. You’re about six weeks. I expected the visualization to have more impact. It’s just a black circle; it doesn’t make it seem any more real. What the hell are you? You aren’t a person yet.