It was 1979, the end of summer. I was living in a ski town and my boyfriend and I got pregnant. I was 19 soon to be 20. We both were in shock and he supported whatever choice I needed. My girlfriends surrounded me and drove me to the clinic. At that time it was very common. All my older friends, and my sister, had all been through it. It didn’t feel great but the relief was grand, knowing at that age I was incompetent of raising anyone other than myself, barely!
In 1991, living in L.A., I was pregnant again from another (supportive of choice) boyfriend who I inherently knew was not my life partner. To this day I’m grateful for Planned Parenthood, their financial sliding scale, and the care I received.
In 1994 I met my “Life Partner” on a movie set. We traveled and worked physically enduring hours and I vowed I would never terminate another pregnancy. When I did become pregnant for my 3d time, it was too early in the relationship and I knew we could not sustain that pressure of bringing a child into the mix. We had broad goals we wanted achieve together.
This termination was physically and psychically the most painful procedure, unlike the others. That relationship did sustain for 23 years. We climbed mountains, made documentaries, kite surfed the Caribbean for a decade, among other adventures.
I never became pregnant again. I never have raised a child, and have had brief moments of remorse, but have been clear and respectful of those choices I got to make.
