I guess my story starts off like most do. I met a boy, fell in love, got pregnant, and had an abortion. That is the overly simplified version of events. It happened more or less like that, except the boy was an alcoholic and I was well on my way from recreational drug use to addiction.
I was 21 and we had been together for 7 months when I got pregnant. It was a lapse in pills and the arrogance that only comes from being 21, but it happened nonetheless. At first I was scared. I had to tell mom. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell my dad, mom had to do that. I will never forget the look of disappointment on his face. Then I had decisions to make. At first I wanted to keep it, but both my mom and my boyfriend told me that it was probably not the best idea. It took me a month and a half to come to the same conclusion. I had to get emergency Medi-Cal and because I was just over 13 weeks I had to go to a facility out of town. The staff there was amazing, but it felt like a conveyor belt. We all sat in this little room waiting for our name to be called. There were girls there that were having their 4th or 5th and talking casually and a few others like me that were there for the first time and looked like scared deer. When it was over I went home. I never cried. I never regretted. I never looked back. The life I have today is a direct result of that choice. I met my son’s father the week of what should have been my due date and that to me tells me I made the right choice.