Two abortions, one year

I’ve always been pro-choice but never thought having an abortion would be my own choice. After 17 years and 5 children (2 adopted), my marriage ended. I started dating. When I found myself pregnant just 5 months into a new relationship I immediately knew what I needed to do.  While I didn’t share news of my pregnancy or decision to end it with many, I did tell my teenage daughters, hoping that my own honesty would give space for theirs should they ever need it. The procedure itself was none of the fuss I’d expected, and afterward my only feeling was relief. A year later, still in the same relationship, I got pregnant again. This time felt more shameful… I didn’t tell my daughters… My abortion was yesterday. I saw my second oldest off to college today. I am solid in my decision that my three youngest children deserve all the energy I can muster now, that my arms are too tired to hold a baby. Part of me wants to be very quiet and forget this, make sure it never happens again, and part of me wants to carve this story into stone, because it’s mine, it’s yours, it’s all of ours. How much more easily could we tell our stories if we all told our stories?