Fortunately, I had been considering the possibility of being pregnant since I had missed my period a week before, and had already talked about it with my boyfriend, so when she asked me what I wanted to do, I told her right away that I wanted an abortion.

In a stroke of luck, I happened to have “inflated” my age on the pregnancy test form. I had been doing this for years, ever since I skipped two grades (I was starting 11th grade in a month) - all my school friends were older and it was easier to lie about my age than to always explain what a freak I was. I looked and acted older, so no one doubted my claim that I had just turned 16, not 14. It was lucky that I had done so, because it turned out that 16 was the magic age for getting an abortion in the local hospital without parental consent (it was a hospital policy regarding all surgery, not a law). The nurse, after telling me this, recommended that I involve my parents in the decision anyway; I told her that I appreciated her concern, but that I wanted to do this without their knowledge. Inside I was thanking God in heaven that my unconscious habit had manifested itself that day…

My father was a strict man, a military Colonel AND a minister. He, to put it mildly, would not have understood my choice. My mother might have, but she would have felt compelled to tell him – especially when they found out who my boyfriend was. He was much older, and our relationship was secret (I want to make it clear that in NO way was I ever exploited or abused sexually – I was precocious, assertive, rebellious, and sexual, and I initiated every aspect of my relationship with him). So, basically, my parents might have forced me to have a baby – and my father had a history of physically abusing us as well; I didn’t want to risk telling them. I didn’t feel the need for their support anyway; in no way did I feel ready to have a baby and I was very sure of that. I wasn’t afraid of having an abortion. My only fear was that they would discover my real age and that the hospital wouldn’t do it. I heard somewhere that 14 was the age of consent in Quebec – I had a backup plan of going to Montreal to have it done, rather than tell my parents. I would have gone anywhere to get it done, rather than tell my parents. As I was already a pretty efficient liar (I’d hid a 3-month relationship from my mom, after all), I’m sure I would’ve come up with something.

So, four days later, I went to the hospital for my abortion. My boyfriend wanted to come with me, but the whole situation was making him feel terribly guilty, and I didn’t want to have to worry about comforting him – I told him to stay home and pick me up after. I remember that just before the abortion I had a lot of pain – my body reacted really badly to the dilator that the doctor had inserted into my cervix (which I’ve since learned wasn’t really necessary – I was less than 6 weeks pregnant). The nurses and orderlies were great, comforting me and telling me dumb jokes to make me laugh and forget my cramps. I was asleep for the abortion – my last words to the anesthesiologist were, “I don’t think the drugs are worki…” and then I woke up in the recovery room. When I woke up I felt like a million bucks – like my life had been saved – like I could run a marathon.

After the abortion, of course I was still curious – would it have been a boy or a girl, who would it have looked like, I marked the would-be birth date down on my school agenda; but it was just that – wondering, sometimes melancholic but never regretful. I felt that I had grown up a lot that day; I was now using no less than two birth control methods at a time!! The only negative consequence was when my best friend called me a baby-killer and dumped me – but after a year she came around, and meanwhile I still had another friend who was supportive. I remember sitting in a food court about 6 months after the abortion, with this friend, marveling that if I’d gone through with it I would’ve looked like I’d been inflated with a tire pump by then – and thanking my lucky stars that I was just sitting there sharing my fries with her instead!! Sometimes, I would feel guilty for not feeling guilty – I would hear all this stuff about abortion and I would think, gee, that doesn’t sound right. It wasn’t emotionally traumatic, it wasn’t an especially hard choice, I don’t regret it, and I don’t feel guilty about it – should I? I would wonder if I was the only person in the world who actually felt that it was a learning experience, a chance to get a glimpse at the adult world of power and choices, a chance to really think about what I wanted for my future. If I hadn’t had something so real come and smack me in the face, is it possible that my rebellious nature would’ve prompted me to try drugs, or drop out of school, or cause some big trouble in my life?

It’s now been over 12 years since that day, and I am still glad and grateful that I could make the choice to have an abortion. The boyfriend is long gone (I outgrew him and broke his heart a year later) and I cringe at the thought that I could have had his baby – he definitely wasn’t the one for me. I am now 26, have two Bachelor’s degrees, am working as a social worker and taking courses to qualify for medical school. I plan to do abortions as part of my practice – to make sure that other women have the same chance at happiness and finding their dreams that I did.

Thanks so much for creating this website. It’s important for women to know that abortion is something you don’t have to feel guilty about. I had one, and I’m not sorry in the least.