I had an abortion when I was 16 years old. My “partner” was a 18 year old university boy, before I got pregnant he sexually and mentally abused me. When I got pregnant he told all of his friends, and their friends told their friends, and my entire high school found out. He said he would only take me to my ultrasound if I paid him $50 (and buy lunch) and since I was 15 with no license, I had to. I called the doctors, made the appointments, was poked and prodded and questioned, all by myself. I was terrified, but I knew what I had to do.
I eventually got the courage to tell my Mom, who then told my Dad because I couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes and tell him that his baby girl was pregnant. Thankfully, my parents are the most loving, supportive, beautiful human beings, I laid between them crying while they reassured me, “We will get through this like we have everything else, as a family.”
My 65 year old Dad drove to the hospital at 4:00am on September 10th 2016, he sat beside my bed when I woke up drugged, crying, hyperventilating and asking “what happened to my baby” and rubbed my forehead until I stopped crying.
I didn’t want to get an abortion: I had to. I couldn’t let a piece of him and I enter this world.
To cope I resorted to drugs and alcohol, I nearly failed my grade twelve year, I became so detached from myself: I felt dirty. The guilt was consuming me, my shame was running my life. I couldn’t be around babies, a Huggies commercial would cause me to burst into tears.
After 2 years of denial and grieving, I am no longer ashamed for doing what I had to do to give myself the life I know I deserve. I am thankful for all of the strong, courageous women who came before me, the women who bravely shared their stories and made me feel like I wasn’t alone. I love you all. You are fucking amazing.
