I was eighteen and new to the state and homeless, there was a bed I could sleep in as long as I was his girlfriend. His generosity didn’t stretch to condoms. I was clueless and naive and only realised I was pregnant when I starting vomiting 4-5 times a day.
He wanted me to go through with the pregnancy, and said he’d kick me out if I got a termination, but I knew couldn’t do that to myself or the potential child.
A friend came through for me, the cost was enormous but I knew if I wasn’t pregnant, I’d be able to pay her back, eventually. I called PP and went in for a scan. This was before the pill and they said I’d have to wait three weeks to have a surgical termination. Those were the worst, longest weeks of my life. I was so ill, and already weighing 102 lbs, I was 92 lbs by the end. After the termination, I was so relieved, I cried and the nurse felt sorry for me for all the wrong reasons. I threw up one more time in the clinic afterwards and then got my life together. Twenty years later, I had my first child.
