All I said was "Mom?" and then I started sobbing.
My mom was not used to me being a crybaby. When I was a teenager, I was kind of a cocky asshole. Like most teenagers, I thought I already knew EVERYTHING. There was a lot of door slamming, glass breaking, and yelling. Once, I threatened to run away—but my mom called my bluff and started packing my suitcase while simultaneously reminding me that I had no money and nowhere to go. Damnit, she was so smart and always, ALWAYS one step ahead of me.
She was one step ahead of me on the phone, too.
"Oh, no," she said, without my saying another word. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"
Was she a frickin' psychic? Then she said, "How much money does it cost? Do you want to get an abortion? Kelly, I will help you."
Not once did she try to shame me, and not once did she scold me. She just KNEW how embarrassed and devastated I was. I was on birth control pills; I just sometimes forgot to take them. She knew how badly I wanted to finish school. After college, I wanted to find a job that I wouldn't hate going to every day. Mom worked for more than 30 years at a place that mostly made her miserable, but she did it to keep herself and her kids alive.
I was so relieved that I didn't have to explain myself. She just knew. Women KNOW.
So I got an abortion. Just that once. I've never regretted it. And I never will. NEVER. And I refuse to apologize for it. It was 110 percent the best thing to do at that time. Not that it was "easy." Mom offered to go with me to the clinic, but that meant she'd have to make a 10-hour road trip. "No need," I told her. I would be okay.
The afternoon went fairly smoothly until I had to wait, doubled over with cramps, for my ride home. There weren't any protesters when I walked in, but there they were when I walked out. I tried to navigate around the protest, but a middle-aged white guy got right in front of me. "Murrr-derrrr-errr!" he screamed, and then he spit on me.
