The first one was when I was 15. I met a guy at a house party, a friend of a friend. I knew he really liked me because he came all the way from another town on a bus to visit me on the weekends. I remember being with him at a motel and having sex. My mother caught me sneaking back in the door. I explained to her how much I really liked him. The next thing I knew I was pregnant. My father was pro-abortion the first minute I told him and my mother. My mother, a traditional Mexican, was not, but always went along with what my American father did. I remember them taking me twice to the doctor’s office. The second visit was the actual abortion. It was only a few minutes long. My boyfriend came over to the house. I didn’t know my father had gotten a hold of him. I listened from behind a closed door, my dad balling him out. I never saw or heard from him again, but I kept his letters for a long time.

The second time it happened, was from kind of a date rape. I had gone to a friend’s cabin. The couple had also invited two other male friends. The three of us slept in the main room and one guy was groping me while we all slept on the floor. I told him to stop but he kept on. For some reason I felt I didn’t want to wake anyone up. Before I knew it, the guy had his penis in and out and he left me alone. My period didn’t come and I did a home pregnancy test that was positive. I can barely remember where or what happened, except that my sister’s wedding was the next day and I felt very odd. I swore I would always take birth control no matter if I had a boyfriend or not. I was 22.

The third time was the most difficult because I got pregnant with a guy I really loved, but I knew he would never make a good father or husband. He was an alternative-minded kind of guy and didn’t believe in birth control. One night the condom broke. We had been broken up at the time but still seeing each other, I guess for sex, now that I think about it. I remember going to the women’s health clinic and getting the abortion. I went to the beach and stared at the ocean for an hour or so before going home to rest. I was 32. I got myself a wonderful dog after that and became quite active in the local dog club. I started my own dog walking service. I feel that my last abortion caused me to live life for myself and love myself first.

I am 41 now and have been happily married for 2-1/2 years. We don’t want any children. I feel am too old. I have other goals to pursue. If I wanted a baby I would have had one years ago. I have always believed that it is good to have a baby only if you are stable enough yourself and have a warm and supportive husband. I am just beginning to feel like I am in control of life. With the help of my wonderful husband we’re buying our first house and I am making plans on going back to college to be a teacher and write a master’s thesis on the effects of mental and verbal abuse. My father was mentally abusive to my mother and my brother-in-law is mentally abusive to my twin sister. My aunt on my father’s side was married to a verbally abusive man. When he died, she decided to stop eating and died almost a year later. I don’t know if mental abuse from my father had any part in my abortions, but it certainly confused me in what constituted an honest loving marriage. I don’t think I would have met my husband and have the happy life I have now if I had chosen to be a single mother of three.