How old were you when you had your abortion?

15.

How I felt at the time…

Fine.

How I feel now…

Fine.

My story…

When I was a 15 year-old high school sophomore, I got pregnant. My boyfriend and I had been using condoms, but not consistently (clearly.) I had not actually thought anything about my missing period – a friend who had been worrying over her being late and my mom had to trigger my interest and intuition. I started being exhausted and craving eggs and jalapenos, so my BF and I trekked to the planned parenthood for a test. They asked what options I wanted if it turned out positive, and abortion was the only thing I wanted.

I was NOT going to make my life the catastrophe of me growing fat on the couch while I dropped out of school and raised a brat with some asshole I barely cared about. I was saving money for college. I got amazing grades. I was an AP student. This is not where my life was supposed to end. So get it out of me!

I was about 6  weeks gone then, and at that time you could only get a medical abortion. So I had to wait another week – 7 weeks was the medical minimum – tell my mom so she could sign the paperwork, and come up with $380. In high school. That was a lot of money.

My BF took the cash out of his parents’ account, with the thinking that we’d simply tell them after it was done and hope they’d be pleased (they were.) My mom cried when I told her, then confessed that she and my father had aborted two years before I was born, when they were in high school. I made the appointment for a Friday I had off from school, and my mom had off from work (because she worked in the school system.) It happened to be Valentine’s Day. (more…)

I am an educated woman who just this weekend received her second abortion.  Even at this wonderfully empowering, pro-choice, accepting clinic, I declined to tell them it was my second.  Braving the stigma with one abortion story is about all I can stomach.  I don’t want to be ashamed of my choice, but I don’t want the judgment, either.  It’s funny–I can see myself sharing my abortion count once I get my Implanon or my IUD: “I learned my lesson.”  Until then, I’ll sense that my personal responsibility is at a deficit.

I hate that I’m ashamed, because the reality is that my personal responsibility is in the black.  I did the right thing for myself and for the fetuses I aborted.  My choices *should* be less embarrassing than those of a woman who raised two children but could not provide for them or did not care to be a decent parent to them.

I don’t hold any religious beliefs that dictate my personal morals or ethics.  I don’t believe that conception is a magical process that imbues a zygote with personhood.  To whom do I feel, then, that I have to justify my decisions?  I don’t know.  As I write this, I want to convince you of my utter respect for life, how I contribute what I can with my career to raise the quality of life for myself and for others.

I wish my story were more accepted, less whispered.

My abortion isn’t something I’m ashamed of. I had taken precautions, I was on birth control, and I got pregnant. As my gynecologist assured me, these things happen. And they do. And you get through them, although it doesn’t always seem that way at the time.

I found out I was pregnant about six weeks in. I had no appetite but felt nauseous. I took a pregnancy test and it came back positive. I took three more, and had a friend take one as well. Me- four pluses, her- one negative. I went to Planned Parenthood and decided to have a medical abortion. My appointment was set for ten days later, so I had ten days of resting with my decision. I gave it endless thought, but never wavered. But I was surprised by how much in awe of my body I was. For ten days, I was constantly aware that there were two people where there used to be one. I brought a friend to the appointment with me, but didn’t tell the boy I was dating or my parents. I didn’t suspect they would try to convince me otherwise, I just wanted it to be as simple and quick as possible. I took the RU-486 pills one day, and then the next, exactly as instructed. It was two long days, but I just kept telling myself- soon this will be over.

When I went back for my follow-up exam the next week, they did an ultrasound and told me that the pills hadn’t fully worked. I tried to grasp the concept- to what extent did they work? What existed inside me right now? They told me I’d have to have a surgical abortion and I made another appointment for four days later. I felt removed from it all. It was a surgery, a medical procedure. Any indecision or grief I could’ve experienced had to have already passed.

I returned for my surgical abortion and chose a local anesthetic. I watched them perform the surgery- several minutes, nothing more. I went home and rested and knew that it was finally all over.

I’m not ashamed of my abortion. If it comes up in conversation, I’ll easily talk about it. I share my story so other women in similar situations will know that they’ve done nothing wrong, that there are millions of women who have gone through it and that they are not alone.