I wasn't homeless per se when I found out I was pregnant, but I didn't have an official residence. I was staying with my boyfriend, Austin, most of the time, and sleeping on my mother's couch when we needed a break from each other. I had been struggling to keep a job for the past few months, and was at that point bussing tables in a seafood restaurant.

Getting pregnant in the first place is the only thing that I regret, because really, I could have prevented it. The truth is, I didn't even try. I used to lie about that--I'm sure it doesn't make me look like one of the best and brightest. I was incredibly stupid--I couldn't begin to tell you what I was thinking, but it couldn't have been much. I had been on the pill for a while, but had stopped due to lack of funds. Austin and I used condoms sporadically, if at all. He was convinced that his "boys were floaters," as he put it, and although I didn't believe that for half a second, I didn't act on my skepticism. I've heard so many people say that they support choice, but think it's wrong to go off and have tons of unprotected sex and then abort, and it really makes me laugh. I am the only person I know who actually fits that bill, and I guarantee you, it's not behavior I am at all likely to repeat.

It took me a long time to decide what I wanted to do. I scheduled an appointment for a prenatal exam, cancelled it and scheduled a medical abortion, cancelled again a few days later and rescheduled the prenatal check-up. At about five or six weeks, the morning sickness hit me. I was barely able to set foot inside the restaurant I worked at, let alone walk into the kitchen without getting horribly nauseous. I had to quit, which made matters much worse. I also seemed to be the only pregnant woman in the world who had problems getting Title19--to this day I have no idea why.

It took time for it to sink in for me that although I wanted to have kids with Austin, having them at that point would be dooming us all--both the two of us and whatever children came out of it. We weren't stable in any sense of the word, and to have a child would pretty much guarantee that we never would be. I wanted to be a mom, but I wanted to be a better mother than that.

It had been a few weeks since my last change of heart, and Austin had been trying hard to be supportive even though he didn't want us to have kids. When I told him I wanted the abortion, he broke down crying. He was terrified that I'd change my mind again. I called Planned Parenthood the next morning and scheduled an appointment for the following week.

On December 16, we went to the clinic. The nurses were incredibly sweet to me throughout the whole day. I thought that I was ten weeks along, but it turned out I was somewhere in the eighth week. They offered me the medical abortion, and I said no--the idea of going through it alone was too frightening for me, and I wanted it over and done with. The counselor was probably the only person in the whole visit who was at all rude to me--she was very short with me about choosing the surgical procedure, which may have had to do with the fact that the clinic was very busy and running behind. The doctor had to be the kindest medical professional I've ever met--he was sweet and funny and concerned throughout, and I wanted to hug him. I still do, in fact.

I suppose the details of the actual procedure are pretty much the same for everybody--a lot of "Ow, ow, ow, SERIOUSLY OW," and that's what it was for me. Austin held my hand throughout and looked ready to cry. Afterwards in the recovery room, he held me tight (and ate my crackers) and told me he would make sure I never had to go through anything like that again.

So, what to say about afterwards, other than "I'm not sorry"? I had some rotten mood swings during the next few weeks, but I evened out. I got a job that February, which I still have. Austin and I are still together, and much closer for all that happened--if either of us were at all interested in marriage, we'd probably be engaged by now.

I've encountered a few morons who call me a slut and a baby killer--but they were safely on the other side of a computer connection, where they don't have to look you in the eye to say that kind of thing to you. It used to piss me off, but eventually you get used to it and it just seems laughable and pathetic. Of course, if you don't get upset by being called a baby murderer, then they think you must be REALLY evil ... so I would say that you can't win no matter what you do, but I'm four days away from what was supposed to be my due date. Considering that I am nowhere near giving birth, I would definitely say that I won.