My parents were splitting up, and my boyfriend of 2 years was breaking up with me. It was a rough summer. I dealt with the stress and my feelings by drinking and running around with a bunch of random kids; I wasn’t being careful, I was just trying to numb down the turmoil in my mind.
When I think back on that time, I think I was lucky to have just gotten pregnant—not HIV, no STDs, not raped or murdered or anything terrible. But I knew before I peed on the stick that I was pregnant. I felt “full” under my waistband in a weird way…
I didn’t know who the boy was; there are several people it might have been. But it was easier not to know, so I didn’t have anyone to tell besides my parents. They were so kind and supportive. The doctor made me wait till 13 weeks, which meant I had to start my senior year of high school pregnant. That was surreal. I felt like I was along for a ride in my own body… my own habitation of myself was shared with some strange other creature. I don’t ever think I thought of the pregnancy as a baby… I was just too young to really think of myself as a mother.
My mom made the arrangements, and we drove to the one and only clinic in my state. I was thankful that my parents had enough money to put me under General anesthesia for the procedure. There was a girl in recovery with me who’d been awake for hers and she was crying and shaking… I felt really sad for her, but for me I felt only relief. I felt that a burden had been lifted. The next month I was accepted to college, my first choice school, on early admission. My essay for the entrance application was a passionate explanation of the importance of reproductive rights, and pro choice advocacy. I am now a professor, with 3 kids. I know I wouldn’t have been able to get to where I am in life if I’d had to have a baby at 16. I continue to be grateful for my family who supported me, and for the chance to have an abortion when I wasn’t ready to have a baby.
