Raigan Mastain (24 - she/her) and Salim (5.5)
Columbia, MO
After enduring intimate partner violence, I elected to have an abortion in 2015. I was 19. I had a baby boy who would be turning one in just a few short weeks. The man in my life had a daughter that had just turned one just a few weeks before. The finances were not there. The living space was not there. As soon as the test came up positive I figured out that the love wasn’t really there anymore, either. There is nothing more sobering than staring forever in the eye and realizing you don’t want it with the person that you’re with anymore.
It seemed to not even be a matter of choice but rather a matter of timing. What would be the best weekend? When would I be free of tests and classes? When could both of us be off work? Most importantly, when would we not be responsible for the two children we already had for a couple of days? Those decisions made it even more clear that this was the right choice for us. We were already struggling to balance all three of their lives with fairness and love.
I read the pamphlets. I signed the consent forms. I stocked up on ibuprofen, tissues, and snacks. I transferred the money required from my savings into my checking account. That point of preparation, that financial blow, was another sign we were making the right choice. The day came and I sat in the car in complete silence for 2 hours while we drove. I walked through the doors. I surrendered my cell phone, my purse, my keys. I was patted down by a security guard. I feel so lucky that I did not have to face the hate of protesters.
There we sat. It was quiet. We were surrounded by women, men, a couple small children. Everyone was there for different reasons. One girl was having a very hard time and I wanted to do something for her. That motherly instinct to care for others was not gone due to the choices I was about to make. I was sure of my choice but I was also emotionally overwhelmed. I still wanted the comfort of having the guy there to support me through this physically. That was not an option. I was to go back and be examined, have an ultrasound, and finally take the pills all by myself. This was a measure to protect the privacy of other patients, but it was one I personally struggled with.
The whole reason I was in this position was because I dreaded being alone and now I had no choice.
I walked back into the clinic and, to this day, I am shocked with the happiness and support I found. Although I knew this was the right decision, it didn’t make me happy. It didn’t make my heart free of pain. The nurses and counselors who helped me that day supported me. They listened to me. They reassured me that I could make whatever decision felt right in my heart and that support would be offered no matter what.
After the mandatory ultrasound, I had to sit in a room with other girls waiting. We were all so different. Younger, older, multiple races, some girls mentioned having other children as well, we all appeared to be of different socioeconomic backgrounds. I took comfort in knowing that I was in no way alone in my choices. I took comfort in knowing that this was a service thousands of women benefited from, just like all of us.
The actual process was quick and simple for me. I sat with a doctor who explained to me what I would need to do. Since I was so early along, I opted for a medicinal abortion. This means that I took some medication and the abortion was completed in the comfort of my own home - not through a surgical procedure. I took 4 pills total - two pills in front of the doctor and then two more the next at my house. I was given all of the information I needed about what to expect and what to look out for as signs of complications. Again, a nurse supported me in my choices and reassured me I was going to be alright.
We went home. I slept the entire way. I went to bed as soon as we got home that late afternoon. I woke up the next day and finished the pills and waited. The pain was not unbearable. It was like strong period cramps - uncomfortable, but not unbearable. It was nothing at all like labor. The bleeding was not as intense as I had imagined. My heart was not aching as I had imagined.
As quickly as it all started it seemed to be over. Everything had passed Saturday and I was back at work Monday morning. I still felt like myself. I still loved my son. I am still a good mother.
Over four years later I do not resent the decision that I made. I do not look back on my experience with heartache or with pain. I look at the facts and I look at the way my life could have panned out amidst different choices and I am grateful. I am so grateful to live in a country where I was given choices. I am so grateful for the kindness I was shown by the nurses and other staff members at Planned Parenthood. I am grateful my son has his mother all to himself. I am grateful every single day for the choice that I made and for the course my life has been able to take because of it. This is why I stand with Planned Parenthood.
How has parenthood impacted your body image?
The moment I held my son in my arms a force of radical self love overcame me. Suddenly it became clear - If I believed this new life deserved every joy possible in this world, I had to also believe the same was true for myself. From that moment on I knew I needed to be on a journey of self love and acceptance. As an 18 year old, my body had just undergone the biggest transformation of life - I grew into my womanhood faster than I knew possible and loving the body I barely recognized was complicated.
Birth healed my fears about my body. Birth showed me that I am strong and capable. Birth showed me that my body is perfectly designed. It showed me that my body is capable of far more than simply existing - it showed me that I am capable of creating. This knowledge has allowed me to find peace and joy in the way I look in ways I was simply unable of comprehending prior to becoming a parent. I love the way I look because it provides a roadmap of the love I’ve come to know in this world.
What was your experience?
As a teen mom, my postpartum journey was even more of a foreign territory than I expected. My current friends all suddenly seemed way younger than me, but my mom friends were all married and settled in ways that simply weren't possible for me. No one ever made me feel this way purposefully, but I immediately felt so “other than” - different to the point of being unlikable.
Six weeks after my son was born I was diagnosed with postpartum depression that took over my life for close to 2.5 years after his birth. I was confused about my identity and confused about what motherhood was going to look like for me. This battle of identity led me to deep, dark areas of myself. Coupled with anxiety, sleeplessness, and the work of breastfeeding there were many times I truly felt like a zombie. A zombie who could cry seemingly endlessly all of the time.
Through this time, I learned about what it means to find support. I learned about vulnerability. I learned that loneliness is a lie. Through the hardwork of therapy and medication I fought for a healthier brain for myself so I could be the best mother possible. My mental health is still an ever-changing landscape, but now I know how to handle it a bit better.
On May 24, 2019 my battle with anxiety and depression spiraled into a depressive episode that resulted in an unsuccessful suicide attempt. This reality is something that I’ve written and read on multiple medical documents over and over again. It’s a fact that gives me chills and makes my eyes water. It’s not a pretty, clean, or even concise story - but it’s something that happened and it’s something that has opened my eyes and heart in ways I wasn’t prepared for.
When a person gets sick because of their mental health, it’s confusing. People don’t see mental illnesses in the way you can see a broken leg or a runny nose. For me, my mental illness manifests itself in panic attacks, avoidance, self-isolation, and a complete lack of ability to do almost anything except camp out on my couch and hope and pray that things get better. These are not the symptoms many people think of when they think of someone going through a mental health episode but, for most people, these early red flags are integral in getting help more quickly. I want to talk about this because I want people to know that depression/anxiety is not always massive bouts of crying and hysteria - it can be quiet and insidious, it can be fast, it can be as simple as your friend not replying to you for weeks and as deep and dark as them holing away in their apartment for a month. Mental illness is also not selective - it does not cherry pick based on demographics, it can impact anyone you know.
When I think back on these past few months of illness and, conversely, recovery I can’t help but think how very, very integral community is for each and every one of us. Community, for me, is not about the people who show up for you for the highs - it’s about the people who will come over to your messy apartment and help dig you out of the hole you’re currently in. Community is about showing up and holding up the people you love without reservation. It’s about having tough conversations while you hold a dear friend because you want to protect them. It’s about reaching out to other people who love the one you love and creating a plan to lift them out of their sorrow. It’s about this and so very much more but at the end of the day it’s simple because all it’s really about is showing up.
This has been a dark, scary time for our family. It’s been complicated and heartbreaking. It’s torn us down to our very foundation and taken more than we could ever quantify. It’s also been beautiful and healing. It’s been funny and ridiculous. It’s been full of love and light we did not know before. Much like anything in life, this season is a tunnel with two separate access points. One end of the tunnel leads into the darkness, the other leads into the light, and somewhere in the middle you cling to the ones you love and find your way out stronger and, hopefully, wiser.
What is your truth?
YOU are the best parent for your child. You are strong. You are so much more capable than this world ever wants you to know. Listen to your gut and know that you are prepared.
Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?
The power of the 4th Trimester Body Project hit my radar when my son was only a couple months old. I’ve held onto the hope that I may get the opportunity again another time and the chance has finally come! I’ve wanted to share for years because I think as parents, we owe honestly to one another.