I found out I was pregnant for the first time in my life when I was 25. I was in graduate school and broke all the time. I had started dating a friend (who probably should have just remained a friend) and we had drunk, unprotected sex once or twice. I took the morning after pill both times, but it didn't work. (We must have been quite fertile together- in the past, taking Plan B had always worked for me.) I knew that a baby was nowhere in the plan I had for my life: a career, a husband, a home, and financial security all needed to be there before I would be ready. I had none of those things. Nowhere close. I had a 2-1 duplex and a roommate, a lot of student debt, halfway to a master's degree, and a "boyfriend" who I knew would never want anything long term. Not an ideal situation for even raising a puppy, much less a child.

I refused to ruin my life, and everything I had worked so hard for and come so close to achieving, for a cluster of multiplying cells which I had no emotional connection to. My very real life was more important to me than a potential life. I knew that I could never have a child, even to give it up for adoption after nine months, and maintain the integrity of my life, and the lives of my future children. If I were to drop out of graduate school to have the child, it is unlikely that I would ever go back. The boyfriend would have never wanted to marry me, and I would have been a single mother, without any career prospects, struggling to make ends meet and probably messing up a lot along the way. Raising any stable, happy, and healthy future children depended on a stable income and stable family structure, and having a child at 25 would have ruined their potential lives, as well as my own.

I decided not to tell anyone, and to keep it a private matter. I didn't even tell my "boyfriend"- I didn't feel like we were close enough to share the situation. I wanted it to be private and only my own business. I scheduled my appointment for as soon as possible (my pregnancy symptoms disgusted me, and I wanted to end the process before I had to look at the state mandated pictures of the "unborn child"). The doctor and nurses were professional and kind, and the process itself was not particularly painful (especially with the nitrous oxide gas they gave me). I only needed ibuprofen for pain, and no other sedation. I walked out alone and happy.

I did not have a hard time coming to the decision to have an abortion. I think the worst part of the whole process was feeling bad that I didn't feel "bad enough", if that makes any sense. Growing up, it had always seemed like even the pro-choicers were apologetic, and only supportive of abortion because the alternative would be "coat hangers in a back alley". Abortion was conveyed as a thing that only whores or irresponsible idiots had to go through, but a necessary evil to protect the whores and idiots from killing themselves as well as their babies, so abortion had to remain legal. While the "coat hanger" point is an important part of the pro-choice argument, it shouldn't be the entire argument. Women should have the right to know that it's okay to feel relieved and happy after an abortion, and not apologetic and guilty. A Google search for "abortion" reveals so many sites with ridiculous names like "Silent Teardrops"--sites designed to scare and guilt women away from making the best choices for themselves. It may not be the best choice for everyone, but it definitely was for me. I was relieved and happy right after, and I'm relieved and happy to this day. Thank you for providing this outlet of support.