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I became pregnant when I was sixteen. My boyfriend, who I loved very much, has assured me that pulling out was a sufficient form of birth control. He was older and more experienced, so I believed him. As I attended a religious school, everything I knew about birth control and sex came from Seventeen magazine.
I barely considered any option other than abortion. A few weeks after my seventeenth birthday, I went to Planned Parenthood. The experience was hard, but my boyfriend did his best to be supportive.
That was seven years ago. Since then, I’ve found out that my boyfriend at the time was a pathological liar. The thought that I could have raised a child with him is terrifying. I am now a Ph.D. candidate at a top university. Someday I hope to have children, and I think it will be a wonderful experience because I will be an adult with the ability to support myself and my child. When I look at my adorable newborn nephew, I know that I made the right decision. I love my nephew, and I want my future child to be just as wanted and adored by adults who can properly care for him.
I’m sorry that my school did not provide sexual education. I’m sorry that I trusted someone who did not deserve my trust. I am not sorry that I had an abortion.
