It was 1985. I was 21. My slightly older boyfriend wanted “real” (unprotected) sex. I wanted to wait and get a prescription for the pill, but hey, the contraceptive sponge was just out, why not try that? What could go wrong?

I missed a period. A week later I phoned Planned Parenthood to ask them what to do next.

The day I went to Planned Parenthood for a pregnancy test was the day my roommate told me she was also having sex with my boyfriend. There was no doubt in my mind, I did not want this child. The boyfriend’s only question was, “Who’s going to pay for the abortion?” He was in a band and didn’t have that kind of money.

Who indeed?

I did. I had always kept a bank account for emergencies.

I dumped him, had the abortion, moved out in that order, and have never regretted any of those decisions.

At the time it cost 200 dollars at Planned Parenthood. No anesthesia, but a sympathetic doctor and another wonderful Planned Parenthood worker who stayed with me and held my hand the entire 6 minutes it took for the abortion.