It’s been a long time since both of my abortions and I’ve healed immensely in that time and I’m now a parent by choice, so sometimes I look back on the younger me who had those abortions as though that was a different life, but only because that’s how much healing and distance has come since.

My first abortion was extremely traumatic. I was eighteen, and raped while in a relationship, which caused a breakup, and I discovered I was pregnant at 20 weeks. The procedure took two days, but getting to a point where I felt baseline normal took well over six months. I’d so wished I had someone who loved me and I trusted who could hold my hand through it.

Three years later, I got pregnant while on spring break with my then-boyfriend. When the test came up positive, he ghosted before that was a phrase. While I was getting my abortion, he was in Atlantic City. It drove home just how right that choice was, but the abandonment hurt anyway.

The loneliness and abandonment were emotional themes of my abortions, but so too was the palpable, inalienable relief after each, the relief of the knowledge that I was free to become who I’ve become today.