I had an abortion almost 4 years ago. I was in a committed, monogamous relationship with my partner. I had a decent job, I was going to school, and I was 22 years old. I lived in a one bedroom apartment and didn’t have much money, but overall I was happy. Unfortunately, I was included in the small percentage of women who’s IUD fails them.

I always knew if I got pregnant I would have an abortion, I didn’t want kids, and I especially did not want them at 22. I had so many plans, with my whole future ahead of me. My partner was in agreement, always had been in agreement.

 

I cannot convey how scared and anxious I became when that test read ‘positive.’ I cried, and cried, and paced around my room. I cried not necessarily because I was pregnant, but I was afraid I would have to keep it. I had this overwhelming fear I would be stuck with something I didn’t want, for the next 18 years. Something that would change every aspect of my life, which I was still planning out.

 

My doctor made me look at the ultrasound when I made my appointment for confirmation. Seeing that blob on the screen made me sick. All I wanted was it to get out of me. I felt like my body had been taken over by a parasite.

 

I had my IUD removed, as being pregnant with one is extremely dangerous, and was referred to a clinic. I made an appointment to go with my partner, who was supportive and offered to be there the whole way.

 

The clinic itself was wonderful. The employees were direct, but compassionate. The only downside was the line of protesters outside.

I was given the series of abortion pills. One I took at my visit, and the next I would take the following day. I made arrangements with work, and for my partner to be there with me.

 

It was so painful I threw up, and I stayed on the toilet most of the time, but my partner stayed with me and held my hand. I think it took an hour before I passed it, and heard a “kerplunk.” I knew it was gone, and I felt a sense of peace. All my worrying and anxiety was gone, I had my future back. I climbed in my bed and fell asleep.

 

Four years later I don’t feel guilty, I don’t feel bad. I did what was best for me and that fetus at the time. I stayed with the track I wanted for my life, and I’m doing well. I cannot even imagine having a baby. The only time I feel bad is when loved ones talk bad about women who had abortions. Sometimes I fear if they knew, they wouldn’t respect or love me anymore. Really, they should be the ones who feel bad about being so hateful, and callous, to not even think there might be a woman in the room who had an abortion. I am still afraid to let them know I had one.