high school

GRADUATION 2010
Anthony A. Henninger High School
Allorra R. Allen

On the News for Onpoint for College

"I have no one else in my family that went to college or even graduated high school for that matter, so before I even graduated high school, I would meet with Tiffany, every time she would see me she ask, 'how's school going? How are your classes going?'" said Allorra Allen, a student at Onondaga Community College.

http://centralny.ynn.com/content/559950/grants-help-college-prep-organizations/

A little insight..

Life Changes

Head heavy, feet dragging across the ground. The saliva slowly leaked from my mouth as two large men, one to my left, the other on my right, carried me. I had been drugged. “No! I don’t want this!” I wanted to scream, yet the voice remained inside my head “It’s not fair; you can’t do this to me! To us...” I could feel the hot tears burning my face as the women undressed me and laid my limp body on the operation table, and so it began. The nurse rolled me over on my side to administer two shots to my backside, reassuring me that I wouldn’t feel a thing, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.      

“The only thing that’s constant in life is change,” and reflecting on the abortion, years later, I now realize how this very event significantly changed my life for the better. I had been at Dr. Amy Cousin’s abortion clinic in Vestal, New York. The place was hopeless and cold, with sinister white walls, it sent chills through me. My mother had gotten pregnant with me at the age of 14, and my father was only a year older than she was. It began to seem to me as though history was repeating itself, yet I was somehow different. My mother, at the time of the incident, was 30 years old and pregnant with her fourth child. She had no high school diploma or stable source of income, and could barely keep a roof over our heads. I couldn’t see nor understand it then, but she didn’t want that same fate for me.

About fifteen minutes or so before the operation, I was given an opportunity to speak with the doctor. As I sat with Dr. Amy Cousins in her dim lit, comfortable office, just the two of us, she began to ask me questions. She asked about me, my life, my dreams, my school, and my home. She even asked about my boyfriend and from our short conversation, I felt I could trust her. However, I knew why I was there. Naturally, when the conversation turned from light and innocent to dark and heavy, now shaking, I became terrified. I knew it would soon be time to make a final decision, the choice between life and death.

For the past few months leading up to my experience, I had been living life as any expectant mother. I was taking my vitamins, going to doctor’s appointments regularly, having cravings and sleeping as much as possible. During that time though, I wasn’t with my mother. The day I found out I was pregnant, February 28, 2008, I was with Novella.

Novella was the mother of the family that I choose to stay with in order to avoid the violence and neglect of my mother’s household. I was taken to the clinic two weeks prior to the day I discovered I was pregnant to discover if I could, in fact, become pregnant since my mother had told me otherwise. At the time I had a boyfriend named Reuben. Reuben came from a large Italian family with 15 older brothers and sisters, and we too hoped to have a large family. My mother, on the other hand, disagreed with our happy notion and would discourage us both, telling him things such as “I don’t know why you’re with her” as she would point and look at me, “It’s not like y’all ka get married and have a little family.” “How you gonna do that if she can’t have kids!?”She was always this livid foaming at the mouth like a wild animal. Based on a hernia I had removed from my uterus when I was just nine months old, I believed my mother. Until, I discovered I was pregnant. The day I was called back to the clinic to take another pregnancy test, a nurse notified Novella and me that I was at least four and a half weeks pregnant. Then, the nurse and her assistants gave the two of us some time alone. It was Novella’s birthday, and I looked across the room at her with uncertainty and cried, “I’m sorry mom.” Novella looked back at me with worried eyes and a kind smile, replying “Don’t be sorry baby.” She took a deep breath and continued, “This isn’t a mistake”, waging her finger back and forth as she shook her head, then raised her arms and exclaimed “It’s a SURPRISE!”  I smiled a cheesy smile and began to laugh, the moisture still fresh upon my face. “Happy birthday,” I said, shrugging my shoulders as the nurses returned. With their glares focused on me, as if my being 14 and pregnant was uncommon, one asked “So, what will you do?” Confidently, I replied, “I’m keeping it.”

My pregnancy became somewhat of a secret. The only people that knew were Novella, her husband Dee, Reuben and the nurses and doctors I needed to visit. Novella and I shared a close bond, but, as time moved on, things began to change. I began to lose my appetite, and stress had taken over my body. I would rather sleep than eat, and some days I was so sick I’d have to miss school. As a result, my grade point average steadily began to slip from the 98 I had worked so hard for. I was in a slump, and the only person I yearned for was Reuben. I soon discovered that his increased absence was attributed to his being banned from seeing me. The same person that had been there for me thus far, Novella, didn’t want Reuben around me for  fear that we would have sex around her house and five daughters, or that we would be too affectionate, displaying signs of the pregnancy to them. She began to say things such as “He’s not ready to be a father” or “You don’t need him!” Hearing such things from her tore me apart, especially knowing so many people, including her own daughters, had grown up not knowing their real father. This made me realize how bringing a child into this world without the presence of the person who helped to create it was unethical. I started to become resentful toward her. Her rules, her house, and her authority even seemed to be wrong. Novella controlled EVERYTHING and no longer made me feel smart and special; instead I felt helpless and dumb. Eventually, I began to defy her breaking all the rules. I would come home late from school, purposely avoid chores and at times I wouldn’t eat simply because she told me to do so. I had become a rebel. Soon Novella was fed up with my behavior and I was faced with the decision to “do right or get out” and by that time I was more than glad to return to my mother’s house.

            Upon my return to my mother’s house, I discovered not only did she know about my pregnancy, she was outraged, especially since she too was pregnant. She had also taken the liberty of calling the rest of my family to alert them of my delinquent pregnancy. There was a lot of animosity between the two of us, since the fact that I was pregnant clearly proved she was a liar. I skulked around the house avoiding her at all costs, angry and fearful of potential harm she might have caused me and my baby simply to rid herself of the “problem”. She was like that. However, rather than causing physical harm to me, she took it upon herself, once again, to schedule me an appointment for an abortion. When I was notified about this appointment, my initial reaction was to escape, yet I soon realized fourteen years old with my only other bridge burnt, I had nowhere to go. The decision had been made for me.

As a result, on April 9, 2008, I lay motionless on an operating table, legs spread apart, having the life sucked from me. I knew that my baby never stood a chance of surviving in this cold world. I had been given a large dose of “Valium” to relax me and another pill, I later realized, was to weaken my uterus and make the procedure flow more easily. When I took the pills, I hoped they would provide me with the courage to stand up to my mother and tell her that I was NOT having an abortion, and that it was time to go. By the time the courage came, however, so did the numbness. My shoulders dropped, my head fell back, rolling around in a circular motion from my attempting to lift it. I was drooling on myself and couldn’t help it.

“Allorra Allen?!” a nurse called my name “Allen?!” she repeated.

 I lifted my eyes the best I could to meet hers and attempted to rise, only to come crashing back down. My mother laughed a little, and two large male nurses came to retrieve me for the operation.

The abortion itself had a terrible effect on me that year. I became severely depressed and suicidal while my mother, on the other hand, was still pregnant. I slowly recovered from my self-loathing state with help from my school, counselors, and medication, and even though I wasn’t able to fix the bond between Reuben and me, I’ve been able to patch things together with mom. When I look at my beautiful three year old sister Amelia, and her tiny face lights up, I know the soul of the child I would have had is in her. Even though things are going smoothly for me now, I still think of the pain and wonder if the nights of loneliness and tear drenched pillow cases could have been replaced by the gentle cries and toothless grins of my lost child.