‘Take a breath,’ said the OB, who’d introduced herself as Dr Kapadia. ‘You’re tense.’
You’d be tense in this position too if you’d been r***d by your cousin’s husband and bound to a bed for days, I thought but did not dare say. If you’d been lied to for months and fed hormones in smoothies and given a placebo pill you thought was Plan B and made to eat a raw placenta.
‘I’m interested in pursuing an abortion,’ I’d told her. ‘As soon as possible.’
‘You’re far along,’ she’d said, eyeing the thing my body had grown.
‘Not so far,’ I’d said. ‘Maybe toward the start of my second trimester. I think I just show more than most women do at this stage.’ By my estimation, I was sixteen to eighteen weeks along. And it wasn’t all that uncommon for some women to show more than others. It was further a
