I was 17, besotted with my first boyfriend, and still suffering from the clinical depression I'd had since I turned 12. He had bought some condoms but said he didn't like them and, even though I knew better, I felt unable to insist. He had a powerful personality and I was easily cowed. I loved him. He was the one, I was sure of it.
I'd been feeling terribly sick for a week, unable to keep anything down. The last thought on my mind was pregnancy as I'd just had a heavy period and had been regular for the last few months. My doctor said it was worth checking out anyway, and to my relief, the test came back negative. But the sickness got worse; it got so I was throwing up every time I smelled food or drink, I lost weight, I couldn't sleep because of the constant nausea. My breasts began to feel harder, more solid. My uterus also seemed more solid and my next period was lighter, so just in case, I took a home pregnancy test and this time it came back positive. When I told him he was overjoyed and asked me to marry him. Alarm bells rang, as I knew I didn't want to spend the rest of my life overpowered by him. I said I wasn't sure, that I needed time to think about things. He flew into a rage and left town the next day. I was terrified, pregnant by a man who'd disappeared on me, and broken-hearted. I poured out my heart to my doctor who gently asked if I'd considered a termination. I didn't even have to think about it. My boyfriend returned 5 months later without a word in between, saying he'd been traveling. I stupidly took him back until he became physically abusive after another year together.
12 years on, I am married to a wonderful man, childless, with a beautiful home filled with dogs and a career I enjoy immensely. I spent many years after my pregnancy still suffering from terrible depression and cringe to think what effect this would've had on a child: In fact, I do have some idea, as my own mother suffered from depression and we were all very scared of her for much of the time. Last time I heard of my ex-boyfriend, he'd developed a drug dependency and had been stealing belongings from friends in order to fund his habit. For all I know, he could very well be dead now. When I consider how miserable my own childhood was, and how much this affects me still, I'm very glad that I didn't put a child of mine through the same, or make a father of such a spectacular asshole.
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