I had been raised by a strict Catholic mother who used to take me to the “March for Life,” and while I had long abandoned anti-choice politics because I didn’t feel I had any right to tell other women what to do, I had lingering Catholic guilt about my own choice. A friend suggested I ask myself immediately upon waking up in the morning before anybody else’s opinions could crowd in what I wanted to do. And when I did, my gut was crystal clear. I love children fiercely, shower my pregnant friends with genuine joy and excitement, and spoil their kids rotten every chance I get, but I have never doubted or regretted my abortion for a moment. I don’t want to be a mother, even if I could have been a good one at the time I found out I was pregnant. And I am grateful every day I went with what I knew was the right decision for me, not what anybody else told me was the right decision.