When I was fifteen, I found myself dating someone considerably older than myself. I was an honor student going to a college prep and everything to look forward to. My then boyfriend and I discussed possible pregnancies and decided abortion would be the best option for us, and we would discuss it further if the time ever came. I did what I could to make sure I never had to deal with that. I insisted on condoms, even though he didn’t like them. Little did I know, he was slipping them off during sex. Needless to say, I found myself pregnant only a few months later. Being underaged, I had to get the consent of my mother for the abortion. She agreed and I made my appointment, telling my boyfriend to just drop off the money.
Surprise. Surprise. He never showed up. My mother ended up paying for the abortion. I was about six and a half weeks along. I was not sorry about ending the pregnancy. I was pissed that I got pregnant by that loser and that he left me to deal with everything on my own. At the same time, I knew I never wanted to go through another unplanned pregnancy or abortion.
Then I found myself pregnant again at 18. What luck I have, eh?
The circumstances were the same, yet different. I still had everything to lose and nothing to gain. But, this time, I had a caring person by my side. He knew that I was uneasy about going through another abortion, but he helped me through it. Deep down, I knew it was for the best, but I was just disappointed that I let another unplanned pregnancy occur. So, I ended up having a medical abortion at 5 and a half weeks.
Now, five years after the first and two years after the second, I could not imagine what my life would be like if I had not aborted. No, I am NOT sorry. No, I do NOT regret the abortions. I regret getting pregnant. I regret the circumstances around the pregnancies. I do not regret ending the pregnancies.
