Jan. 24: Still no period. Maybe deep down I'm still nervous about that pale line? It still could just be nerves, right? I take a second test. The second line is not so pale this time.

I am immediately disappointed in myself. I never thought I'd end up here. A struggling grad student in debt, with a lover in another state, and neither of us wanting to be parents. Having a baby was not an option. I never considered it.

I tell the father and we are still in complete agreement. I'm glad this is a topic we discussed early in the relationship. No surprises. I wouldn't want any right now.

Jan. 26: I call Planned Parenthood. Because of state law, I would have to talk to a doctor at least 24 hours in advance about the risks of the procedure. Fortunately, this could be done over the phone. The clinic is an hour by bus, and I have no car. I schedule dates for the phone call and the procedure. I am also told, as required by law, that there are pamphlets available to me describing the growth of a fetus and "other options" such as adoption. I say I am not interested.

Jan. 29: A friendly doctor calls to tell me the risks involved with getting an abortion. The risks are ridiculously low, and mostly minor. Neither I nor the doctor understand the point in this law. I do not need 24 hours to think about my decision. I made it when I saw two pink lines on the pregnancy test. Nothing has changed.

Feb. 4: It's -9 degrees Fahrenheit. I correctly predict that's too cold for most protesters. There's an escort outside the clinic to get me and my roommate past a woman who tells me, "don't walk down this path, Jesus is the way." I laughed. The escort talks to us about the weather to try to drown out the Jesus woman. We get inside rather quickly.

A woman behind a pane of glass makes photocopies of my and my roommate's driver's licenses. We are then allowed into the waiting room, which is safe behind a locked door. We have to be buzzed in. There I filled out some forms and watched "Big" on a TV on the wall. I was struck by the diverse crowd in the waiting room. This really must be the most common surgical procedure in the country. A wealthy-looking couple, dressed as if they were going to an opera instead of an abortion clinic, worry together in one corner. Two sorority sisters look nervous together in another. A woman in a floor-length skirt and headscarf, perhaps a Muslim or Orthodox Jew, speaks in some other language with her husband. A high school student is comforted by her mother.

First, I am called back for an ultrasound. 5 weeks, she saiya. I am so grateful to be able to get this done quickly. Back to the waiting room. My roommate had brought his laptop and is doing work. I am so reminded how lucky I am he was able to take off a day from work to bring me. I'd be a wreck if I were doing this alone, and my lover was too far away to come himself. I'm called back again, this time to talk about my decision and the procedure itself, and to check my Rh factor and hemoglobin. Positive and 15.2. I'm good to go. The woman I'm talking with asks me about my plans for future birth control. I have an appointment with my regular doctor on Feb. 18 to go on the Pill. She says they like to send patients home with something right away so they can get started. She asks if I'm interested in that, and I say yes. She then tells me about options other than the Pill I may be interested in. I get a pamphlet to look over while in the waiting room. Because of a blood condition I have, they decide not to give me ibuprofen. She checks my blood pressure and temperature. She comments my blood pressure is normal but "a little on the high side." Back to the waiting room.

I put my co-pay and a small donation on my credit card. It's a lot less than I thought I'd have to pay. I'm relieved, since I have student fees and rent coming up. More waiting. I get very hungry. I wish I had eaten breakfast before coming. I look over the pamphlet and discover NuvaRing. It sounds great and so much more convenient than the Pill. My regular doctor had not mentioned it. I had no idea there was something so easy available. I'm excited to get started with that right away.

Three hours after first arriving, it's finally time. I'm led to a bathroom and told to empty my bladder and put a pad in my underwear. I'm then led to another room where I strip from the waist down and lie on a table. I realize that I'm not even nervous. I feel a little awkward lying on a table with no pants, but nothing too bad. The doctor comes in, introduces himself, and shakes my hand. A woman stands next to me and starts some small talk. It gets my mind off what's going on. I barely feel a thing at first. The woman next to me warns I'll soon hear the vaccuum turn on and feel some cramping. It was still a bit surprising to feel cramps so suddenly. It is uncomfortable, but not painful. More small talk. She's a cat person but her apartment won't allow them. I sympathize.

Finally, I hear the machine shut off, and the woman next to me says it is hopefully over. The doctor confirms. All the important parts have been removed. I'm done.

The doctor reminds me of the importance of scheduling a follow-up exam before leaving the room. As soon as I sit up, the cramps get a lot better. I get dressed and go into the recovery room. I'm still hungry, and a little cold, but am feeling pretty good. The cramps aren't that bad, and I'm relieved to have the procedure done.

I tell the woman I have decided on the NuvaRing. We discuss that and go over my aftercare. 7 days of antibiotics. No sex, tampons, or lifting over twenty pounds for two weeks. Nothing I can't handle. I'm reminded once more to make an appointment for a follow-up exam in three to four weeks. I get a small brown bag with papers describing everything I was told about, a bottle of antibiotics, and my first NuvaRing. Another woman checks my blood pressure and temperature again. My blood pressure has come back down.

I'm hungry, and I want a nap, but I'm feeling good about my decision, and relieved that it's over. My roommate takes me for lunch and drops me off at home before heading into work. I'm hardly bleeding at all.

I talk to my mom on the phone a few hours later. I lie and say that nothing's new in my life. I know she wouldn't approve, but I also know she's not ready to be a grandmother yet.

Feb. 7: After a few days of just light spotting, it's starting to feel like a period flow. I haven't used pads in over ten years. It feels strange.

I make the appointment for my follow-up exam. It will be on February 25, exactly three weeks after the procedure. They'll make sure there were no complications, and I'll get the chance to buy more NuvaRings.

Walking home from the store, I hear a baby wailing through an apartment window on my street. I chuckle to myself and think how happy I am that won't be my window later this year.

To simply say "I'm not sorry" or "I don't regret it" is not strong enough. Having an abortion was the best decision I ever made. I'm glad I did it, and I'm 100% confident that I made the right choice for myself, my lover, and our situation. It's not right for everyone, but it was right for me, and I'll do everything in my power to make sure every woman has the opportunity to decide if it is right for her without legislation making that decision for her.

Any pregnancy will change your life, whether you have the baby or not. It should be up to us how we let it change us.