I have always been a cynical and paranoid person. That's why I panicked to any early signs of pregnancy. I was urinating frequently. I was feeling very fatigued. And eventually, I began spotting. I couldn't be pregnant. Teenage pregnancy is just one of those distant realities that one ever happen to me, right? I couldn't get rid of that tugging feeling in my stomach. So, to calm my nerves, my mother keeps a pregnancy test under the bathroom sink, just in case. So I took it. I can remember so clearly being overwhelmed by that feeling of my heart jumping into my mouth when the test read positive. I always thought that if anyone had to get me pregnant at a young age, Sam would be the boy to do it. I mean, his mom had him when she was 14. It couldn't be a bigger slap in the face to discover how wrong I was.

He pretty much abandoned me. If that wasn't heinous enough, he had the nerve to tell people that I was faking a pregnancy, because I was a "psycho", and I was "so obsessed with him" It's obvious he knew it was all real. Sometimes he'd try to help me (as big as an asshole he was about it) by suggesting ways to get abortion money. Of coarse, each time he'd cut himself off and say "Yeah, you're full of shit, you stupid cunt." I guess he's too immature to realize what he was doing. He was pulling the ostrich technique- hiding your head from the problem and hoping that it will succumb on its own. I'm still waiting for "what goes around comes around" to ring true. With all of that, I became depressed. I was on Lexapro for being bipolar (for which, I found out recently I was misdiagnosed; I just have anxiety problems) It came to a point where I swallowed several pills at once. And, I'm not stupid, I happen to know that you can't commit suicide with an antidepressant. I honestly do not know what my intentions were. But the next day, which also happened to be my 16th birthday, I became really sick. I thought I had a miscarriage. I did not, but I made the severe mistake of telling Sam that I thought I did, which was just the icing to his cake of "YOU'RE FULL OF SHIT'S"

The following Thursday, my friend, Aaron took me to a clinic. There were a few protesters outside (really, don't these people have JOBS?). I then talked with a counselor briefly, then had some blood drawn, to see how pregnant I was (a little over a month). I also had an ultra sound taken, which I chose not to look at. Someone once asked me, "If you saw the ultrasound, would you feel differently about your decision?" I said, "Yes. It would make me feel even better to see how small it was." But I was crying really hard. One of the nurses even asked if I could try calm down a little because I was starting to scare the other girls. I was given a few painkillers, then the shots to thin out the lining of my uterus. Then they cleaned me up and decided I was going to be all right to go home. Aaron was being so amazing. The procedure cost nearly $400, and he paid for it all upfront. As hard as I try to pay him back (against his will) I feel like I will be in debt to him forever, emotionally.

When I got home, I took my comforter and snuggled up on the couch to watch a marathon of slapstick comedies. (it's weird, almost every girl I talked with did the same thing) I also cried until I was beginning to feel dehydrated. I had never really had any cramps that bothered me for my period. But holy hell, I was crouched onto the ground in pain. This was also the first time I soaked a pad within a few hours.

Since then, I have undergone much harassment. Getting pregnant in high school is truly a double-edged sword. Even if I did chose to continue with my pregnancy, people would still find awful things to say about me behind my back. But I still walk to my locker to see a sign that says "Baby Killer" Someone once took my notebooks and told me how I was damned to hell in thick, black sharpie. I get countless hate letters sent to me through email. One time some lame slag sent me a third trimester ultrasound with a post-it note saying "This is what you murdered you filthy whore."

Asinine, yes. But no matter what these people find to say to me, I still won. Because I firmly believe that I did what was in my best interest. The only reason why I would want to keep the baby would be to wave into Sam's face and say "HAH!" which isn't reason enough. I did take responsibilities for my actions; I didn't mother a child while I wasn't financially nor emotionally stable enough to raise him/her. And, I did choose life. I chose my own. I also prevented an unhappy, poverty destined, fatherless one. Yes, I will admit, there have been times where I wondered "what could have been" if I kept the baby. But it is better to say you regret an abortion than to say you regret a kid. And I don't regret my abortion, I'm so grateful to have had this choice. I am beyond willing to fight Congress to keep their laws off of my body. Don't dare to tell me to live with my mistake. This "mistake" would have ruined my life. Even when I grow to be 76, and my baby would have been 60, it still would have been just that- my baby. I would still in some way, care for it. I promise that when the time comes, I will be ready to have children, and I will be the best mother that I can possibly be. Now is definitely not that time.