OK
https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/
Canada
Country
AS852
Network
March 19, 2020, 10:04 AM UTC
Date & Time
Websites
Websites
Web Connectivity Test
Runtime: 3.6s

On Mar 19, 2020 10:04 AM, https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/ was accessible when tested on AS852 in Canada.

Failures

HTTP Experiment
null
DNS Experiment
null
Control
null

DNS Queries

Resolver:
74.125.187.11
Query:
IN A myabortionstory.tumblr.com
Engine:
system
Name
Class
TTL
Type
DATA
@
IN
CNAME
myabortionstory.tumblr.com
@
IN
A
74.114.154.18
@
IN
A
74.114.154.22

TCP Connections

Connection to 74.114.154.18:443 succeeded.
Connection to 74.114.154.22:443 succeeded.

HTTP Requests

URL
GET https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/
Response Headers
X-Xss-Protection:
1; mode=block
X-Tumblr-Pixel:
3
X-Content-Type-Options:
nosniff
Transfer-Encoding:
chunked
Set-Cookie:
pfg=deleted; expires=Thu, 01-Jan-1970 00:00:01 GMT; Max-Age=0; path=/; domain=.tumblr.com; secure; HttpOnly
Strict-Transport-Security:
max-age=15552001
X-Tumblr-User:
myabortionstory
Server:
openresty
X-Tumblr-Pixel-0:
https://px.srvcs.tumblr.com/impixu?T=1584615969&J=eyJ0eXBlIjoidXJsIiwidXJsIjoiaHR0cDovL215YWJvcnRpb25zdG9yeS50dW1ibHIuY29tLyIsInJlcXR5cGUiOjAsInJvdXRlIjoiLyJ9&U=CPLICINAGG&K=2fe8c4ca696fc0dd3dc238b0fdddc5f424c493d6adb20bec55e8a1c855a42558--https://px.srvcs.tumblr.com/impixu?T=1584615969&J=eyJ0eXBlIjoicG9zdCIsInVybCI6Imh0dHA6Ly9teWFib3J0aW9uc3RvcnkudHVtYmxyLmNvbS8iLCJyZXF0eXBlIjowLCJyb3V0ZSI6Ii8iLCJwb3N0cyI6W3sicG9zdGlkIjoiNjEyNDk0MzU0MDA5OTY0NTQ0IiwiYmxvZ2lkIjozNjc3MjM3NTEsInNvdXJjZSI6
Connection:
keep-alive
Link:
<https://66.media.tumblr.com/avatar_a2527a6f3e2d_128.pnj>; rel=icon
X-UA-Device:
desktop
Date:
Thu, 19 Mar 2020 11:06:09 GMT
Vary:
X-UA-Device, Accept, Accept-Encoding
P3p:
CP="Tumblr's privacy policy is available here: https://www.tumblr.com/policy/en/privacy"
X-Rid:
1f4aa4fd32c19eef437e7e731c215458
Content-Type:
text/html; charset=UTF-8
X-Tumblr-Pixel-2:
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X-Tumblr-Pixel-1:
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X-UA-Compatible:
IE=Edge,chrome=1
Response Body
<!DOCTYPE html><script>var __pbpa = true;</script><script>var translated_warning_string = 'Warning: Never enter your Tumblr password unless \u201chttps://www.tumblr.com/login\u201d\x0ais the address in your web browser.\x0a\x0aYou should also see a green \u201cTumblr, Inc.\u201d identification in the address bar.\x0a\x0aSpammers and other bad guys use fake forms to steal passwords.\x0a\x0aTumblr will never ask you to log in from a user\u2019s blog.\x0a\x0aAre you absolutely sure you want to continue?';</script><script type="text/javascript" language="javascript" src="https://assets.tumblr.com/assets/scripts/pre_tumblelog.js?_v=b9f848c06fcba7eaf305d4a7cb7a1b98"></script><!DOCTYPE html>

<!--

Observer Theme
By Zack Sultan
Released January 2013
Revised June 25, 2017

-->

<html>
    <head prefix="og: http://ogp.me/ns# fb: http://ogp.me/ns/fb# blog: http://ogp.me/ns/blog#">
        <title>my abortion story</title>
        <style>figure{margin:0}.tmblr-iframe{position:absolute}.tmblr-iframe.hide{display:none}.tmblr-iframe--amp-cta-button{visibility:hidden;position:fixed;bottom:10px;left:50%;transform:translateX(-50%);z-index:100}.tmblr-iframe--amp-cta-button.tmblr-iframe--loaded{visibility:visible;animation:iframe-app-cta-transition .2s ease-out}</style><link rel="stylesheet" media="screen" href="https://assets.tumblr.com/client/prod/standalone/blog-network-npf/index.build.css?_v=6e121b6530ce38be364bf1089290570b"><link rel="shortcut icon" href="https://66.media.tumblr.com/avatar_a2527a6f3e2d_128.pnj">
        <link rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml" href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/rss">
        
            <meta name="description" content="My abortion story is a campaign started by Anis - Institute of Bioethics and by Think Olga to listen to women&#039;s abortion stories. Listening and storytelling is a way of caring for women. We ask you..." />
        
        <link rel="shortcut icon" href="https://66.media.tumblr.com/avatar_a2527a6f3e2d_128.pnj">
        <link rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml" href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/rss">
        <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, maximum-scale=1.0, user-scalable=no" />



<!-- Options -->


        <meta name="if:Show Navigation" content="1"/>
        <meta name="if:Alternate Header Layout" content="0"/>
        <meta name="if:Show Description" content="0"/>
        <meta name="if:Show Archive Navigation Link" content="1"/>
        <meta name="if:Wide Images" content="1"/>
        <meta name="if:Photoset Layout" content="0"/>
        <meta name="if:Show Post Tags" content="1"/>
        <meta name="if:Show Post Notes" content="1"/>
        <meta name="if:Show Copyright" content="0"/>

        <meta name="Title font" content="Gibson">
        <meta name="Title font weight" content="bold" title="Bold">
        <meta name="Title font weight" content="normal" title="Normal">
        <meta name="font:Body font" content="Calluna"/>

        <meta name="Background color" content="#fff">
        <meta name="Title color" content="#444444">
        <meta name="Link color" content="#5f79a4">

        <meta name="color:Body text" content="#333333"/>
		<meta name="color:Secondary text" content="#888888"/>
        <meta name="image:Logo" content=""/>
        <meta name="text:TypeKit ID" content=""/>
        <meta name="text:Title Font" content=""/>
        <meta name="text:Body Font" content=""/>
        <meta name="text:Post Headline Font" content=""/>
        <!--<meta name="text:Secondary Font" content=""/>-->

        <meta name='text:Disqus Shortname' content='' />
        <meta name='text:Google Analytics' content='' />

<!-- Scripts -->

    <script src="https://static.tumblr.com/4kpnlef/Pttmhz2ap/jquery-1.9.1.min.js"></script>

    

    <!-- Media resizing -->
    <script type="text/javascript">
        $(document).ready(function() {
            // Make desktop tumblr video stretch to 100%
            $('.tumblr_video_container').css({ 'width' : '100%', 'height' : '100%' });
            // Resize tumblr video on mobile
            $('.iphone-video a').css({ 'width' : '100%', 'height' : '200px' });
		});

        //Make Spotify the right size and responsive
	    $(document).ready(function(){
	        $('.mobile-spotify iframe').css('height', '80px');
            $('.mobile-spotify iframe').css('width', '290px');
            $('iframe[src*="embed.spotify.com"]').each( function() {
                $(this).css('width',$(this).parent(1).css('width'));
                $(this).css('height', '82');
                $(this).attr('src',$(this).attr('src'));
            });
        });
        $(window).resize(function() {
            $('iframe[src*="embed.spotify.com"]').each( function() {
                $(this).css('width',$(this).parent(1).css('width'));
                $(this).css('height', '82');
                $(this).attr('src',$(this).attr('src'));
            });
        });

        // Fix Flickr images treated as videos.
        $(document).ready(function(){
          // Grab the videoWrappers that are already here.
          var videoWrappers = document.querySelectorAll('.videoWrapper');
          for(var i = 0, len = videoWrappers.length; i < len; i++) {
              fixFlickr(videoWrappers[i]);
          }

          // Also process any new nodes that are added to the page.
          var observer,
          observerConfig = {
          	childList: true,
          	subtree: true
          };

          observer = new MutationObserver(function (mutations) {
          	for (var i = 0, len = mutations.length; i < len; i++) {
          		// If there were new nodes added, we check that they are valid flickr embeds
          		if (mutations[i].addedNodes.length && mutations[i].addedNodes[0].querySelector) {
          		    var newVideoWrapper = mutations[i].addedNodes[0].querySelector('.videoWrapper');
          			if (newVideoWrapper !== null) {
          				fixFlickr(newVideoWrapper);
          			}
          		}
          	}
          });

          observer.observe(document.getElementById('content'), observerConfig);
        });

        function fixFlickr(videoWrapper){
          var potentialEmbed = videoWrapper.firstElementChild;
          if(potentialEmbed.hasAttribute('data-flickr-embed')) {
              videoWrapper.style.paddingBottom = 0;
              videoWrapper.style.height = 'auto';
          }
        }

        //disable safari active states
        document.addEventListener("touchstart", function() {},false);

	</script>




<!-- Style Sheet -->

<style type="text/css">

.regular p {
	font-weight: bold;
	color:aqua;
}

.regular .bottom-nav {
	display: none;
}

::selection {
    background: #529ECC; /* Safari */
	color: #5a5858;
	}

::-moz-selection {
	background: #529ECC; /* Firefox */
	color: #5a5858;
}

body {
	margin: 0px;
	margin-bottom: 0px;
	padding: 0px;
    font-size:18px;
	-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;
    -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0,0,0,0);
	}

p, li, blockquote {
	line-height: 28px;
	margin: 0;
}

h1, h2, h3 {
	margin: 0;
	padding: 0;
	font-weight: 400;
	font-size: 30px;
}

.ir {
	text-indent: -99999em;
}

.center {
	text-align: center;
}

/* Global colors
********************************/

body {
	color: #5a5858;
	background-color: #ffffff;
}

.blog-description {
	color: #888888;
}

a {
	color: #5a5858;
	text-decoration: none;
	border-bottom: 1px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.3);
}

#header h1 a {
	color: #444444;
	border-bottom: none;
}

a:hover {
}

a:active {
	position: relative;
	outline: none;
	top: 1px;
}


.metadata a, #footer-links a, #footer p.promo a, .links a {
	color: #888888;
	border-bottom: none;
}

.metadata a:hover, #footer-links a:hover, #footer p.promo a:hover, .links a:hover, .more a:hover, a.mobile-player:hover {

}

.post {
	border-bottom: 1px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.2);
}

.colophon p {
	color: #888888;
}


/* Global fonts
********************************/

body {
	font-family:  Georgia, Palatino, 'Palatino Linotype', Times, 'Times New Roman', serif, georgia, serif;
	font-weight: normal;
}

.title h1, .link-title h1, .chat-title h1, .q h1, .a h1, .album-info h2, #footer h2 {
	font-family:  Georgia, Palatino, 'Palatino Linotype', Times, 'Times New Roman', serif, georgia, serif;
	font-weight: normal;
}

.blog-title h1 {
	font-family:  Georgia, Palatino, 'Palatino Linotype', Times, 'Times New Roman', serif, futura, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;
	font-weight: normal;
	font-size: 96px;
	line-height: 1em;
}

.metadata a {
	font-family:  , helvetica, arial, sans-serif;
	font-weight: normal;
}


/* Page
********************************/


#page {
	border: 0px solid;
	max-width: 900px;
	padding-left:  50px;
	padding-right: 50px;
	margin: auto;
}








/* Header Centered
********************************/

#header {
	margin-top: 20px;
	margin-bottom: 80px;
	display: block;
	overflow: visible;
}

#header a {
	text-decoration: none;
}

.blog-title {
	display: block;
	width: 100%;
	text-align: center;
	margin-top: 70px;
}

.blog-title a {
	border-bottom: none;
}

.blog-title img {
	max-width: 100%;
}

.blog-description {
	font-size: 16px;
	line-height: 20px;
	margin-top: 20px;
}

.links {
	margin-top: 0px;
	text-align: center;
	float: none;
	border-bottom: 1px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.2);
}

.links ul {
	margin-top: 10px;
	padding: 0;
	display: block;
	text-align: center;
	float: none;
}

.links li {
	display: inline;
	margin-left: 10px;
	text-transform: none;
}

.links li:first-child {
	margin-left: 0px;
}



/* Post wrappers
********************************/

#content {
	width: 100%;
	overflow-x: hidden;
	clear: both;
}

.post {
	margin-bottom: 45px;
	padding-bottom: 40px;
	width: 100%;
}

.narrow {
	max-width: 640px;
	margin: auto;
}


/* Headings
********************************/

.title h1, .link-title h1, .chat-title h1 {
	text-align: center;
	margin: auto;
	margin-bottom: 25px;
	font-size: 42px;
	line-height: 50px;
}

.link-title a {
	text-decoration: none;
	position: relative;
	border: none;
	color: #529ECC;
}

span.link-arrow {
	position: relative;
	font-size: 20px;
	bottom: 3px;
}

.quote-short {
	font-size: 24px;
	line-height: 36px;
	margin-bottom: 25px;
}

.photo img, .album-art img, .videoWrapper {
  max-width: 100%;
	display: block;
	margin-left: auto;
	margin-right: auto;
	margin-bottom: 30px;
	border-radius: 2px;
}

.photo img, .album-art img, .videoWrapper img {
	min-width: 640px;
}

.photoset-layout {
    max-width: 700px;
    display: block;
    margin: auto;
    margin-bottom: 30px;
}

.tumblr_audio_player {
	height: 250px;
}

.audio iframe {
	width: 100%;
	margin-bottom: 20px;
}

.videoWrapper {
	position: relative;
	padding-bottom: 56.25%; /* 16:9 */
	padding-top: 25px;
	height: 0;
}

.videoWrapper iframe, .videoWrapper object {
	position: absolute;
	top: 0;
	left: 0;
	width: 100%;
	height: 100%;
}

.videoWrapper iframe.flickr-embed-frame, .videoWrapper img {
    position: relative;
    width: 100%;
    max-width: 100%;
    height: auto;
}


/* Post body styles
********************************/

.caption p {
	margin-bottom: 15px;
}

.caption h1 {
	font-weight: bold;
	margin-bottom: 15px;
}

.caption h2 {
	font-weight: bold;
	margin-bottom: 15px;
	font-size: 24px;
}

.caption blockquote {
	margin-bottom: 10px;
	border-left: 3px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.2);
	margin-left: 5px;
	padding-left: 15px;
	line-height: 26px;
}

.caption pre {
	white-space: pre-wrap;
	white-space: -moz-pre-wrap;
	white-space: -pre-wrap;
	white-space: -o-pre-wrap;
	word-wrap: break-word;
	background-color: rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.2);
	border-radius: 2px;
	padding: 10px 15px 10px 15px;
	font-size: 15px;
	line-height: 24px;
	margin: 15px 0 25px 0;
}

.caption ul, ol {
	margin-top: 0;
	margin-bottom: 25px;
	padding-left: 40px;
}

.caption img {
    display: block;
    max-width: 100%;
    height: auto;
    margin: 30px auto 30px auto;
    border-radius: 2px;
}

.quote-short {
	line-height: 40px;
	font-size: 36px;
	margin-bottom: 20px;
}

.quote-medium, .quote-long {
	line-height: 32px;
	font-size: 24px;
	margin-bottom: 20px;
}

ul.chat {
	list-style-type: none;
	padding-left: 0;
}

.chat li {
	border-bottom: 1px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.3);
	margin-bottom: 10px;
	padding-bottom: 10px;
}

.chat li:last-child {
	border: none;
	margin-bottom: 0;
	padding-bottom: 0;
}

span.odd, span.even  {
	font-weight: bold;
}

.more a {
	display: block;
	width: 99%;
	height: 30px;
	border: 1px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.3);
	text-align: center;
	text-decoration: none;
	border-radius: 2px;
	padding-top: 10px;
	margin-bottom: 30px;
}


.more a:active {
    background: rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.08);
    box-shadow: inset 0px 1px 4px rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.2);
    top: 0px;
}

.audio-module {
	display: block;
	overflow: hidden;
	margin-bottom: 25px;
}

a.mobile-player {
	border: 1px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.2);
	background: rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.1);
	width: 99%;
	padding: 30px 0 30px 0;
	margin-bottom: 25px;
	border-radius: 2px;
	display: none;
}

a.mobile-player:active {
    top: 0px;
    box-shadow: inset 0px 1px 4px rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.2);
    background: rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.18);
    border: 1px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.3);
}

.play-triangle {
	margin-left: 20px;
	width: 0px;
	height: 0px;
	border-style: solid;
	border-width: 6.5px 0 6.5px 10px;
	border-color: transparent transparent transparent rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.8);
}

.album-info {
	display: block;
	float: left;
	width: 63%;
}

.player {
	display: block;
	background-color: #ffffff;
	float: right;
	padding-top: 5px;
	padding-right: 2px;
	border: 1px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.3);
}

.desktop-spotify {
	display: block;

}

.mobile-spotify {
	display: none;
	width: 290px;
	margin: auto;
}

.iphone-video object {
    display: block;
    margin: 0px auto 20px;
}

.asker-block, .answer-text {
	display: block;
	overflow: auto;
}

p.question {
	padding-bottom: 10px;
	padding-top: 10px;
}

p.album, p.question {
	font-size: 24px;
	line-height: 32px;
}

h1.qa-letter {
	display: block;
	float: left;
	width: 45px;
	position: relative;
	bottom: 3px;
	font-size: 30px;
}

.q {
	margin-bottom: 20px;
}

img.asker {
	float:left;
	margin-right: 8px;
	border-radius: 2px;
	position: relative;
	top: 2px;
}

p.asker {
	font-style: italic;
}

p.question {
	clear: both;
}


/* Metadata
********************************/

.metadata {
	border: 0px solid gray;
	overflow: auto;
	font-size: 12px;
	text-transform: uppercase;
	margin-top: 20px;
}

.metadata a {
	text-decoration: none;
}

.date, .tags, .notes-count {
	display: block;
	float: left;
	margin-right: 15px;
}

.tags a, .notes-count a, .date a {
	margin-right: 5px;
}


/* Footer
********************************/

#footer {
	text-align: center;
	margin-bottom: 40px;
}

#footer a {
	text-decoration: none;
	border-bottom: none;
}

a.back-next {
    margin: 0px 10px 0px 10px;
}

#footer h2 {
	font-size: 24px;
	text-align: center;
	margin-bottom: 40px;
}


#footer-links ul {
	margin-bottom: 0px;
	padding: 0;
	display: block;
	text-align: center;
}

#footer-links li {
	display: inline;
	margin-left: 5px;
	font-size: 14px;
}

#footer-links li:first-child {
	margin-left: 0px;
}

#footer .colophon p {
	font-size: 14px;
	font-style: italic;
}

#footer p.promo {
	font-size: 12px;
	text-transform: uppercase;
	font-style: normal;
}


/* Notes and comments
********************************/

#permalink-content {
	margin-top: 40px;
}

.avatar_frame {
	position: relative;
	top: 4px;
	margin-right: 10px;
}

.comments {
	margin-bottom: 35px;
}

.comments h3, .permalink-notes h3 {
	font-size: 18px;
	font-weight: 600;
	margin-bottom: 20px;
}

.permalink-notes ol {
	padding-left: 0;
}

.permalink-notes li {
	list-style: none;
	margin-bottom: 10px;
	padding-top: 10px;
	border-top: 1px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.3);
	font-size: 13px;
}

.permalink-notes blockquote {
	margin: 5px 0px 5px 0px;
	border-left: 3px solid rgba(136, 136, 136, 0.2);
	margin-left: 20px;
	padding-left: 15px;
    line-height: 24px;
}

.notes a {
	border-bottom: none;
	text-decoration: underline;
}


.post iframe, .post object {
max-width: 100%;
}


/* Browser size break-points
********************************/


@media screen and (max-width: 800px) {

#header {
	margin-top: 20px;
	display: block;
	overflow: visible;
	padding-bottom: 0px;
}

.blog-title {
	display: block;
	text-align: center;
	margin-top: 50px;
	float: none;
	width: 100%;
    margin-bottom: 50px;
}

.blog-title h1 {
	font-size: 40px;
	margin-bottom: 10px;
}

.blog-description {
	font-size: 16px;
	line-height: 20px;
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					<p class="blog-description">My abortion story is a campaign started by <a href="http://www.anis.org.br"><b>Anis - Institute of Bioethics</b></a> and by <a href="http://www.thinkolga.com"><b>Think Olga</b></a> to listen to women's abortion stories. Listening and storytelling is a way of caring for women. We ask you not to focus on whether you are against or in favor of abortion, but instead just give a little bit of your time to stop to get to know these real stories. Would you listen?</p>
                    
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							<h1>story 38</h1>
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						<p>I don&rsquo;t know how I should do it &mdash; If I should record it or write it. You will have to be patient with the way I write on WhatsApp, line by line. I would like you to tell my story line by line, too, as I write it. It was 1992. I can&rsquo;t send a voice message, because I don&rsquo;t want anyone to hear this. I really want to participate. But this is my condition. I want you to tell my story line by line. <br /></p><p>When I was 18, I had a child. It was my first pregnancy. I hadn&rsquo;t planned it and I didn&rsquo;t want it. But I couldn&rsquo;t have na abortion. Although I had thought about it, I didn&rsquo;t have the chance. I suffered retaliation for being young and single at the time I got pregnant. I struggled, it wasn&rsquo;t easy. In 2 years, I got pregnant again. I didn&rsquo;t know anything. I was dating a guy who was helping me raise my first child. We had no stability, neither financial nor emotional. My menstruation was late, but that was normal. I&rsquo;d go days without taking the pill. In this mess, I got pregnant. <br /></p><p>It was my second pregnancy. No one would forgive me. I was still a student. My partner told his mother. She helped us by giving me some teas. She had already had abortions and she knew where to begin. There are beliefs involving teas and bitter drinks. She said it would work, but it didn&rsquo;t. Then I took some medicine from the drugstore, I don&rsquo;t know its name. I got it at the neighborhood drugstore, from a man. It didn&rsquo;t work either. My mother-in-law took me to a lady who performed abortions. The woman was a retired nursing assistant. She had worked with a doctor who performed abortions. She introduced a kind of rubber band in my vagina and told me to come back in 24 hours or whenever I started to bleed.</p><p> It was a very modest house. There were other women, probably for the same reason as me. I went to a bedroom to lay down. She did the procedure with that rubber inside of me. I didn&rsquo;t even pay attention if she washed her hands. We went home by bus and that thing started to hurt. Her job was to start the abortion. I had to go somewhere else to finish it. The cramps were getting worse, but there was no bleeding.</p><p> At night, in the bathroom, a viscous liquid came out. I thought it was over and I never went back to the woman. I started to have a lot of fever and bleeding. My sister and my mother started to suspect. I was taken to the maternity hospital. I was very badly treated there. I kept lying, as my mother-in-law and the nurse had told me. The hospital looked like a police station. I stayed there for several days; four, I think. All the cases were passing in front of me. They wanted to punish me. There was this liquid, as dark as coffee, that stank a lot. One of the people at the hospital said: &ldquo;this one is an abortionist; she will get here every year&rdquo;. I freaked out and cried compulsively. I asked to die at home. They couldn&rsquo;t discharge me, because I was there without having eaten anything for an entire day. They asked me to be patient and said the medical team had more urgent cases than mine. They told me my case was mild, but If I left, I could die. <br /></p><p>I was hungry, humiliated and upset. I left the next day. They did the procedure and I walked away. I didn&rsquo;t tell anyone that. It was self-punishment for killing. Do you believe that? I assimilated the lesson. I only managed to talk about it 12 years later, during my son&rsquo;s prenatal care. Then I met other women with the same story as mine. Now, more women are going to know my story, which can be just like theirs. </p><figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="2244" data-orig-width="4016"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/8070653754013d6baa9fd8ea7c510c4c/0d27c6bcb37537f4-40/s500x750/7c85ec379565105a924dfb8f4a7625b30ef5c209.jpg" data-orig-height="2244" data-orig-width="4016" width="500" height="279" alt="image" /></figure>

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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/post/612494354009964544/story-38">Mar. 13 2020</a>
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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/abortion">#abortion</a>
							    
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/my-abortion-story">#my abortion story</a>
							    
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/anis">#anis</a>
							    
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							<h1>story 37</h1>
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						<p>I was 27 and I had a daughter who was 4. I was in a relationship with a guy who was very kind, he was nice. We were friends before we started dating. I can guarantee you we did everything right. I am living proof that contraception can fail. <br /></p><p>I got pregnant. We quickly looked for one of the well-known abortion clinics, but it was closed. The police had been there, so it was shut down. They recommended us another clinic, one that I knew nothing about besides a friend having told me it was an option. She said something about a cousin and that things could work out fine if I went there. I got a bit insecure, but I could not have another child at that moment, when I already had a 4-year-old. I decided to give it a try. But I have to say I was very, very scared.<br /></p><p>We saved money &mdash; I don&rsquo;t even know how &mdash; and scheduled the procedure. They treated me well. I felt no pain during it or afterwards. Then I went home. It looked like everything had worked out fine. I was resting for two days and then got back to normal. Exactly a month later, I started to have some kind of bleeding, more or less like menstruation, but different. It quickly turned into hemorrhage. There was blood everywhere. If I was standing up, a pool of blood would appear on the floor. I went to the shower, and blood clots were coming out. It was a lot of blood.<br /></p><p>They did not do curettage at the clinic I had gone to. And they had this one rule: you could not go back there. It was different from the other clinics, where you&rsquo;d go out with the doctor&rsquo;s number or with some guidelines of what to do if something went wrong. I was on my own. My boyfriend at the time knew a nurse who worked at a university hospital and she got me an appointment. No tampon was enough to hold my bleeding at that moment. I was afraid I would die. I was afraid I would be arrested. I saw myself disappearing with that bleeding.<br /></p><p>I can tell you I had three feelings: fear, fear, and fear. I trembled. I started to feel pain, so much worse than menstrual cramps. There was no emergency room, so my bed was at the corner of the hallway. A forgotten corner. It was strategic. No one would see me or take care of me, so I was forgotten. I gave them my personal information and that was the first of three nights I was hospitalized.<br /></p><p>During the first three days, no one had me examined, no one talked to me, no one got close to me. The resident doctors would pass through me, and I heard them speaking, referring to me as &ldquo;the abortionist&rdquo;. Those were very difficult times, and I even heard this dialog: a woman was asking another one &ldquo;who&rsquo;s that in the corner?&rdquo;. &ldquo;She had an abortion. She is there to think of what she&rsquo;s done, to erase what she&rsquo;s done.&rdquo; It was a woman&rsquo;s voice judging me, you know. Hearing it from another woman was particularly painful. That is when I started to panic.<br /></p><p>At the end of the fourth day, they examined me and then did the curettage. Only after that, I was discharged. I got out of the hospital walking that day. At that moment, I became a feminist. Now I fight for abortion rights. And do you know who turned me into this person?They did this to me. I was lucky I&nbsp; survived. But I learned what it means to resist. And that is what I have been doing ever since. It is what I am doing here, once again.</p><figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="2244" data-orig-width="4016"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/4b1be8cfb8d09390f4b9bcb19be6892c/af1832ebee7d62c7-c4/s500x750/4f75b7e6d4acfc651f6b64d5f2e2d31d6dbf00ed.jpg" data-orig-height="2244" data-orig-width="4016" width="500" height="279" alt="image" /></figure>

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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/post/611145204688355328/story-37">Feb. 27 2020</a>
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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/anis">#anis</a>
							    
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/abortion">#abortion</a>
							    
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/my-abortion-story">#my abortion story</a>
							    
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							<h1>story 36</h1>
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						<p>When I was 15, I started dating someone. I used to live in a small town. My father had just died, and I came from a very conservative family, even more than that, I would say, my mother was a very authoritarian woman. I hate to say this, but, with my father&rsquo;s death, it was like I was able to know the world and begin to live.<br /></p><p>I think I liked the boy, it&rsquo;s very hard to go back in time and say what was all that,<br />because now it all seems like a teenage fascination. I had all that excitement of someone discovering life. We had been dating for a while when I lost my virginity. At 16, I got pregnant, but before that we had a memorable talk, even before I knew I was pregnant and went to talk to him, and I kept thinking about it. One day, he had asked me, &ldquo;what do you think about abortions? Would you do it?&rdquo;. I had never thought about it before, I&rsquo;m 41 years old now, a much more mature woman, and I&rsquo;ve lived more and I&rsquo;ve known women, abortion stories. But<br />at that time, at 16, it was all very new to me.<br /></p><p>When I got pregnant, I didn&rsquo;t even have to ask his opinion, it had been already settled in that talk we had had and that I couldn&rsquo;t forget. He made me take a urine analysis, he took my urine to the lab, he took my sister-in-law&rsquo;s document to have access to health insurance. We did everything in secret. When the result came and it was positive, he didn&rsquo;t even ask my opinion, there was no discussion. He said &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t take this responsibility, I won&rsquo;t, I have no conditions, you will have the abortion&rdquo;. I would say it was not a choice at that moment, it<br />was an order. I didn&rsquo;t have his support or society&rsquo;s support to say I would be a single mother in a small town, at 16, and without a father. He even said, like he was threatening me, that my mother and my brother would leave me, would kick me out &mdash; I wouldn&rsquo;t have anyone&rsquo;s help, only judging, that is.<br /></p><p>This created a lot of internal conflict, of course, I had no one to talk to. I talked to a cousin, but she was kind of silly, she was my age and didn&rsquo;t really help me. The guy gave me some kinds of tea, he gave me pills and nothing, then he got Cytotec, he spent a lot of money to get it and settled the time and date for us to meet and have the abortion. I can&rsquo;t lie, while I waited him to sort it all out, I was already dreaming about the baby. You know when you start daydreaming? It was me. I thought he was going to change his mind, would appear in front of<br />me as a hero and say, &ldquo;we will take this responsibility together, it will be alright&rdquo;.<br /></p><p>I went to his place, took the pills, and he was beside me, watching the whole abortion process. It hurt, it hurt a lot. The beliefs and the taboo around me, it was a pain that I could say I felt in my soul. It was a lot of bleeding and I did not go to the hospital. For some time, I blamed myself, I punished myself, I thought I was the one and only person responsible for that. I couldn&rsquo;t open up with anyone, how could I tell someone that I am a criminal? I didn&rsquo;t want to go to jail. I have tried to talk about this before, two or three times, but the disapproving<br />looks made me quail and not say anything.<br /></p><p>At 21 I got married, and it was only in my second pregnancy that I could put things in their places in this story, during my prenatal care exams, talking to a nurse. I understood that it was something I had to go through, or that I let myself go through. When I told this story and when I talk about it again now, I can tell you that I do not regret it. People ask right away &ldquo;do you regret it?&rdquo;. It seems to be the first question that arises. No, I do not have any regrets, that&rsquo;s not it. What I still have is the feeling of loneliness that I had, and that&rsquo;s why today I&rsquo;m empathic with all women who go through this. You know, it&rsquo;s very ironic, this empathy came into my house so I could be empathic with my daughter.</p><p>My oldest daughter, 16, got pregnant and the father&rsquo;s family is very religious,<br />evangelical. She came to ask me, I told my story, she was surprised. I told her I would be there for her whatever her decision was, either to have the abortion or the child. She decided to keep it. Now I have a grandson, 2 years and 10 months old. We are a wonderful family, my daughter, my grandson, my other daughter, we are four and at that time I also told my youngest daughter. Both of them are, like their father, very evangelical, but I think they look at the subject<br />of abortion in a different way nowadays, different from what the Church says. It says it&rsquo;s a sin and that women should go to jail. When this is spoken about, I am sure they remember me, their mother.</p><p><br /></p><figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="2244" data-orig-width="4016"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/82ac4c3b44054df7f65915e27c991d2a/73e901ec7803a16e-11/s500x750/fe8c937254d32af90841642f4fe548f8c437ea78.jpg" data-orig-height="2244" data-orig-width="4016" width="500" height="279" alt="image" /></figure>

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        					<div class="date">
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/post/190810812615/story-36">Feb. 13 2020</a>
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                            <div class="tags">
                                
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/anis">#anis</a>
							    
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/abortion">#abortion</a>
							    
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/my-abortion-story">#my abortion story</a>
							    
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							<h1>story 35</h1>
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						<p>I have my story. It&rsquo;s very different from the one my sister has gone through,<br />because
 she lives abroad. She had an abortion at a public hospital, I had 4 
abortions in Brazil, all illegal. All of them were humiliating, painful,
 and lonely. I had no partner, like now. I won&rsquo;t tell you about all of 
them. I&rsquo;ve spent the whole day practicing this recording, thinking how I
 would tell you. And all that came to me was forgiveness, prison, guilt.
 I&rsquo;ll be able to tell you if I talk about all of them at once. And if 
I&rsquo;m fast.<br /></p><p>I wanted to tell these stories as if they made me proud. But they don&rsquo;t. They<br />never
 do, to anyone. Condoms break, the guys won&rsquo;t use them, we forget the 
pill, or the pill doesn&rsquo;t work. It&rsquo;s not bad luck or a lie, it&rsquo;s real 
life. I&rsquo;ve had 4 abortions and in none of them I had my partners&rsquo; hands 
to hold. I always went alone, they are cowards, liars, sexists. I have 
two beautiful daughters, wonderful, because I wanted them. It&rsquo;s hard to 
speak now, but I want to leave an alert: I want to and I need to be 
heard.<br /></p><p>I&rsquo;m 54 years old, I have a boyfriend now, but it all seems false. If I still could<br />get
 pregnant or go through this, it would be a fifth story of abandon. What
 do the 4 stories have in common? In all of them I had to solve it all 
by myself, in any of them I was cared for so it wouldn&rsquo;t happen again, 
in all of them what was wrong in my personal and sexual life continued 
to be wrong. If I suffered any violence, I couldn&rsquo;t speak to the 
doctors. If I didn&rsquo;t use a certain [contraceptive] method, I couldn&rsquo;t 
say it in the hospital.</p><p>I&rsquo;ve said I wouldn&rsquo;t talk about each of 
them. And I won&rsquo;t, I&rsquo;ll just tell something unforgettable about these 
abortions. It&rsquo;s a tragic story. I went to a hospital whose doctor was 
evangelical. When I was about to receive the anesthesia, I<br />remember 
him asking me: &ldquo;do you like to travel? You&rsquo;re about to have a trip now&rdquo;.
 I don&rsquo;t know what he gave me, but I had hallucinations, it was like I 
was being amputated. It was a horrible experience.<br /><br />The illegality made me go through 4 abortions. I&rsquo;m a graduated woman, I<br />work,
 I&rsquo;m well-informed. Whatever I was doing wrong, I kept doing it wrong. 
This is what I wanted to talk about: if the abortion wasn&rsquo;t prohibited, 
we would be able to take care of women like me, so they wouldn&rsquo;t go 
through so many experiences like these. That is why I came here to 
speak. One or four abortions, it&rsquo;s all the same: it&rsquo;s a very bad 
experience in illegality.</p><figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="1129" data-orig-width="2288"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/5785401da886dccdd50a45f71810bc91/72bfa34215908ac6-0a/s500x750/f446a45545db6e53c05cbd8a91f3ae63082eabe3.jpg" data-orig-height="1129" data-orig-width="2288" width="500" height="247" alt="image" /></figure>

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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/post/190571303415/story-35">Jan. 31 2020</a>
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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/anis">#anis</a>
							    
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							<h1>story 34</h1>
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						<p>Can I tell the story the way I want to or is there a certain way of doing it? Will<br />you ask me questions, or can I just keep talking? It feels weird to tell this story after so many years. I have tried before, but then I see how unorganized everything is in my head. It seems so jumbled, you know?<br /></p><p>I was 17. He was older, well-known, kind of famous, and we had a sick<br />relationship of possessiveness and jealousy. My father had just died, and I was raised in an overprotective environment. I&rsquo;ve never taken a bus, I&rsquo;m 43 now and I recently told my husband: &ldquo;I need to have this experience&rdquo;. My father gave me a car early in my life and then suddenly died.<br /></p><p>This boyfriend was an aggressive guy. We had an abusive relationship. Breaking up with him was like getting cancer out of me. He repeated this abusive behavior with other women. But I ended up getting pregnant. My mother had just become a widow, with three teenage daughters, and all I could think was how to give my mother the news during our grief. I&rsquo;ve always had a strong personality. By the time he passed away, we had just had a fight. I wanted to live, smoke, dance, and he wanted me to stay home. It was after his death that I started dating this older guy.<br /></p><p>It might have nothing to do with the story, but I want to say this. Before he died,<br />while he was already sick, I told him, &ldquo;I want to go&rdquo;, and he said &ldquo;no, because I&rsquo;m sick&rdquo;. I replied: &ldquo;then I wish you die soon, so I can live&rdquo;. And he actually did. I felt terrible, I needed a lot of therapy, as you can imagine. I had to forgive myself for wishing my father&rsquo;s death. I was a terrible daughter, and I thought I had killed my father.<br /></p><p>After that, how could I tell my mother that I was pregnant? And that is what happened. When I told her, what I heard was &ldquo;you killed your father, and now you want to kill me?&rdquo;. It was so awful, I took all the medicine I could take and ended up in the hospital for a suicide attempt. My boyfriend took me to the<br />hospital. She didn&rsquo;t come to see me, she just showed me the hospital bill, a fortune. She just said: &ldquo;I want this money back&rdquo;. 453 was the number, I&rsquo;ll never forget it. I use this number for everything in my life.<br /></p><p>I had this load of mourning to deal with and a pregnancy test. I needed to solve<br />it. I went to him with the exam, put it in my belly and showed it to him. He tore off the paper and shouted &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want this. I don&rsquo;t want anything to do with this thing&rdquo;. I had no doubt that it would have to be an abortion. I went to a doctor who was famous in my city, he did the surgery without anesthesia. I went with a friend who held my hand. I left there with a hemorrhage, I couldn&rsquo;t go to my house, I went to my boyfriend&rsquo;s house. I got more and more sick there. I had to ask my mother for help. She came back and we started trying to take care of ourselves. It was not easy. <br /></p><p>Through the years, I have found many ways of healing all this pain. I started<br />therapy, I&rsquo;m a Catholic, I go to the mass, receive communion and ask for forgiveness for all of this. I have daughters I&rsquo;m crazy about. It was difficult for me to get pregnant, and I thought it was karma for all I have been through. I know it isn&rsquo;t, but who would change my mind? I didn&rsquo;t hide any of my feelings or who I am. I know that people will listen to me and say this or that, but aren&rsquo;t we all this jumble? When you look at me, you can&rsquo;t see it: I&rsquo;m married, successful, a professional. Yet that was my past.</p><figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="1512" data-orig-width="3247"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/7503ffe2ea0aa2d3a70448d101eafb90/7675cf5751f31c49-ab/s500x750/0e58920d30edc67158ffe42c9be2cf12998d4164.jpg" data-orig-height="1512" data-orig-width="3247" width="500" height="233" alt="image" /></figure>

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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/post/190388490945/story-34">Jan. 21 2020</a>
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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/abortion">#abortion</a>
							    
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/my-abortion-story">#my abortion story</a>
							    
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/anis">#anis</a>
							    
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							<h1>story 33</h1>
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						<p>I&rsquo;d rather send a written message, or do you want audio only? I can also copy the letter I wrote to my aborted son. It was a suggestion from a doctor I went to. When I wrote, I saw that I was on the final stretch of mourning. Do you want to read it?</p><p>It&rsquo;s been many, many years. I was a college student but still financially dependent. There was no warm relationship between me and my feminine references in the house, any conversation about sexuality, about experiencing our feminine side fully. And it came in a scare. A positive result and fear in my heart. A cruel phrase from my sister, who accidentally was the first to know, still echoes in my head: &ldquo;We expected nothing more from you.&rdquo; It was all very lonely.<br /></p><p>At first, I would remember the date every month after the abortion, until my<br />psychologist at the time said, &ldquo;Shall we stop marking the anniversary?&rdquo; This was important for me to get out of the eternal game: guilt, sadness, guilt. The doctor who made the intervention talked to my boyfriend at the time asking for the &ldquo;tip&rdquo; for payment. I&rsquo;m sure I didn&rsquo;t get anesthesia. It was the strongest pain I ever felt in my life. My soul hurt, my body hurt.<br /></p><p>The doctor asked me to take a tampon with me. I had to leave right after the<br />procedure, walking as best as I could, bleeding. I bled for 15 days. He already had a name, even a pair of baby shoes. But I couldn&rsquo;t go on with it. I didn&rsquo;t want to be what they &ldquo;expected of me.&rdquo; It was very lonely. Very lonely indeed. And it still is.<br /></p><p>Today, closer to menopause than fertility, I have no children. Self-punishment?<br />Perhaps. But I am already calmer with this eternal memory. It will always be lonely. Even if a friend lends a hand, even if a cousin takes care of you the following days. It&rsquo;s always the woman with herself. I recently read a book of abortion stories: that&rsquo;s when I realized that I was a good mother at the time, thinking about someone&rsquo;s future and someone else&rsquo;s life. I wish I could tell this to many women who have had abortions: you did nothing wrong. It&rsquo;s not<br />your fault. Here is the letter I wrote him.</p><figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="1080" data-orig-width="1920"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/a45b6c8c460c39cfd3387e6191cefbe1/6e028dc17aa58f2c-e8/s500x750/66bf755121a5286cba176aee98c5b3d8185be563.jpg" data-orig-height="1080" data-orig-width="1920" width="500" height="281" alt="image" /></figure>

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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/post/190104711445/story-33">Jan. 6 2020</a>
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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/abortion">#abortion</a>
							    
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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/anis">#anis</a>
							    
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							<h1>story 32</h1>
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						<p>I&rsquo;ve heard your explanation. It&rsquo;s clear to me: my abortion happened over 8 years ago and my name won&rsquo;t be disclosed. Thank you for listening, it&rsquo;s what matters the most to me.<br /></p><p>I have many other friends who have had abortions too. I did it, and I have no trauma. I know that the sad stories are not ours, but those of the women who couldn&rsquo;t abort. Have you heard those stories? Those are stories of trauma and of suffering, women forced to become mothers.<br /></p><p>I met two doctors who performed abortions in Brazil. One of them in my town. He had a very busy clinic beside a famous local hospital. I went there around 10 years ago. I had a baby daughter, I couldn&rsquo;t have another one. I got pregnant in the middle of a painful postpartum depression. I couldn&rsquo;t even contemplate having that child. A friend&rsquo;s sister had had an abortion there around a year before that. <br /></p><p>The line was very long. There were people all around. Everyone was holding cash, can you believe it? At the time, I paid a lot of money, something like 5 minimum wages. There were some people in the line who were paying even more, I don&rsquo;t know how the prices were calculated. The doctor had many assistants. I told him I respected his work a lot and that I found him brave. He remained quiet, almost looking down. I never understood his reaction.<br /></p><p>The most impressing thing of this story is that I decided to tell my family. I told my siblings, who did not judge me and knew I was depressed. One day, I told my mother-in-law, she was very sad, she was very catholic. I never touched the subject again, but I have helped many women in need. Years later, I heard that the doctor who helped me was reported. He was not arrested, but he had to run away to another country. I keep thinking how wrong it is &ndash; I could have gotten worse, not have been able to take care of my daughter and of a new child<br />if it weren&rsquo;t for him. Isn&rsquo;t this enough to understand that he helped people?</p><figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="1080" data-orig-width="1920"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/02510296f5013906fb442870415be344/9033706a93ffebf9-2d/s500x750/cdaddc47fc7c97173f633b6a090dd146cb618abf.jpg" data-orig-height="1080" data-orig-width="1920" width="500" height="281" alt="image" /></figure>

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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/post/189705855535/story-32">Dec. 16 2019</a>
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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/abortion">#abortion</a>
							    
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/my-abortion-story">#my abortion story</a>
							    
								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/anis">#anis</a>
							    
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							<h1>story 31</h1>
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						<p>My story is as brief as my memories of the abortion. I would like to introduce myself first, which may be the most different thing about my story. I am a humanized birth professional, I help other women go through a healthy, pleasant, happy labor and birth. I take care of pregnant women and the most important moment, which is the moment of childbirth. I am a humanized birth activist.</p><p>I am middle class and now I&rsquo;m 51 years old. I had this abortion when I was 18, I got pregnant by a boyfriend, I was learning to deal with sexuality. I took every precaution, do you believe it? It was a terrible surprise, I didn&rsquo;t want to be a mother at that point. Note that I say &ldquo;at that point&rdquo;, today I&rsquo;m a mother of two and I love them both deeply. These are two different things &mdash; that moment and<br />maternity for me.</p><p>I found a clinic and a couple of doctors with my friends. I got the money, you can imagine how hard it was for me. And I went through the procedure, it was simple and fast. I took off of my shoulders the weight of a million pianos. Yes, not only one piano. I never thanked the doctors who executed it. They allowed me to be a mother at the right moment, to take care of other women who wanted to be mothers at the right time.</p><p><br /></p><figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="2244" data-orig-width="4016"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/f9af98697842a415b61910cc31dea15f/afc3bc2ac0cac13c-61/s500x750/89ad5e165ab0044ace95457e4f9f3088fe03a5ea.jpg" data-orig-height="2244" data-orig-width="4016" width="500" height="279" alt="image" /></figure>

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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/post/189514917200/story-31">Dec. 6 2019</a>
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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/abortion">#abortion</a>
							    
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							<h1>story 30</h1>
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						<p>I&rsquo;ll tell two stories. One is mine, the other is my sister&rsquo;s. I was your student, but you won&rsquo;t recognize me. And it&rsquo;s fine, I trust you, I didn&rsquo;t want to record this, just to write it. I hope you understand. I&rsquo;ll tell two stories because I don&rsquo;t believe in coincidences, and it all happened in a very similar way with me and with my sister.<br /></p><p>I was still a student in college. At that time I was your student, and you never knew how much I wanted to talk to you. I started to date a boy, I didn&rsquo;t know him well, and I got pregnant. We had no ties, I soon talked to him. I said I didn&rsquo;t want to keep the pregnancy, he was offended and disappeared. I was already a civil servant at the time, I thought that my status would help me with the abortion. I knew nothing of this world.</p><p>At that time, I had this old friend of mine. He had studied with me at school and he had gotten accepted into the police academy. Before it started, while he waited, he was working at a drugstore. I told him everything, and he got the medicine. He asked me to go somewhere with him, a rented room, the following Saturday, and said that he would be there with me so I could use the medicine. So I went there, he said he got an injection. When I got there, I complained a lot, but he locked the door and told me he would only give me the injection if I had sex with him. He accused me of being alone, of having no one but him. He<br />said I was a woman without a man. He hit me, he forced sex, he even bit me. He applied the injection and it had no effect.</p><p>I left there and went out to look for the medicine some other way. I was able to do it on my own. I never had the courage to face this guy, I walked away from his family. In the end, I felt guilty or ashamed of everything, I can&rsquo;t even explain it. Years later, my sister got pregnant by her boyfriend, she is five years younger than me. She was 19, and she went on her own to buy cytotec, and the guy who sold it promised to teach her how to use it. He made her have sex with him, he said they had to put the pill in his penis for it to work. For her, it<br />was very traumatic. She is a mother today, I never managed to keep a pregnancy until the end.</p><p>I told these two stories because I don&rsquo;t believe in coincidences. I think not even my parents would believe in these stories of sexual violence, neither of them. Do you?</p><figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="1676" data-orig-width="3056"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/2c1ec2f7100aaef816105749dc58e629/d8ad4b7048969e31-8a/s500x750/2509239cccb3b0dbf37a7586a156d44c0584b5b5.jpg" data-orig-height="1676" data-orig-width="3056" width="500" height="274" alt="image" /></figure>

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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/post/189436147095/story-30">Dec. 2 2019</a>
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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/abortion">#abortion</a>
							    
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							<h1>story 29</h1>
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						<p>When I was married, my husband gave me a venereal disease, but the doctor didn&rsquo;t tell me what it was. I was married, I got married at 17, I started dating him at 15. At 16, I had a baby, and I got a venereal disease at 17. The doctor didn&rsquo;t say the name of the disease, but she said I was supposed to take some medicine. I took it, I injected it, she sent medicine for him to take too. She gave me a bag full of colorful condoms, I never forgot that. <br /></p><p>I used to live far away, when I got home, when my mother, &ldquo;look at condoms&rdquo;, she already replied: &ldquo;this is not a God&rsquo;s thing, no! How are you going to use it? This is bad for your health. That can&rsquo;t be used in a marriage!&rdquo;. I just played with the condoms. I got pregnant again from the douchebag who is the father of my oldest daughter. <br /></p><p>I broke up with him, started working as a prostitute, and before that I also got pregnant by other people, and then with prostitution it was one after another. There were so many abortions that one day I made a decision. I started buying condoms at the drug store on my own. We heard about AIDS, but at that time AIDS was more in S&atilde;o Paulo, a few cases in Rio de Janeiro. Here in our state there was no AIDS. I was only afraid of having sex with foreigners, because I thought it was an international disease. <br /></p><p>Every time a &#8203;gringo [a foreigner] came, I squeezed his parts to find out if there was any pus. That was how I knew if they had a venereal disease. But it wasn&rsquo;t easy, customers didn&rsquo;t want me anymore if I insisted on inspection. Then I tried to buy condoms at the drugstore, but the customers didn&rsquo;t want to use them. They chose the other girls over me. <br /></p><figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="1080" data-orig-width="1920"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/dc9c868a81218f421ef48d80ea9f42bf/11f0632d64b9d888-79/s500x750/60c85df3da0c38507a1dbc0552bde80e4795d435.jpg" data-orig-height="1080" data-orig-width="1920" width="500" height="281" alt="image" /></figure>

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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/post/189291435800/story-29">Nov. 25 2019</a>
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								<a href="https://myabortionstory.tumblr.com/tagged/abortion">#abortion</a>
							    
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Report ID

20200319T100407Z_AS852_eacM8ALp8YPrqwsB0AKzJ8RlI8dBrL9SpJsJviGMLvjsVEM2iS

Platform

android

OONI Probe version

2.3.1

Measurement Kit version

0.10.11

Raw Measurement Data