This Saturday marks four weeks since I broke off a five year relationship with my boyfriend, who I had hoped to spend the rest of my life with, and asked him to move out.

I am in more emotional pain than I could ever imagine, but it has prompted me to finally share my abortion stories, yes, stories. The first abortion I had was in 2011 when I was 23 after my boyfriend and I had been together for six months, broken up for two, then been back together for 4 months. It was summertime and I knew before I had even missed my period. I had been on an antibiotic that interfered with birth control, but we did not use any backups. I was not worried, because I had never had so much as a scare, and had been far more careless with my use of birth control in previous relationships. I was amazed that I was pregnant. I had determined at that point that I was possibly going to have issues conceiving in the future. Boy, was I wrong. Without any hesitation, I knew I would have an abortion. My boyfriend and I talked face to face. We were both calm, and were both quick to decide that we could not go through with this pregnancy. It saddened me only slightly, because I was very much in love with him, even though it was, and continued to be for five years, a toxic relationship. We didn’t live in the same town, I was still in school, we both had very limited incomes. It would have ended up being a child our parents had to support, and that is just not how I want to raise a child. I opted for a surgical abortion at a women’s health practice in town at 9 weeks because it seemed to be the quickest option with short recovery. Thank god I had a place in the town I lived in that routinely performed the service. It wasn’t cheap, but a lot cheaper than the lifelong commitment of having a child. The day came and went without complications, and I have no regrets.

Fast forward to Fall 2013, and once again before I even missed my period, I knew I was pregnant, again. I was on regular hormonal birth control and not using condoms. Still with the same boyfriend, now having been together 3 years, I once again knew we couldn’t have a baby. At this point I’d ultimately determined that all he had to do was look at me and boom! I was pregnant. It was sort of our running joke. However, here I was again, a “responsible” adult on birth control taken the same time every day in a long term committed relationship who was going to have her second abortion. I was angry at myself and at him that we were still not in the right place emotionally, physically, or financially to have a child. I was struggling with resurfaced addiction issues at the time, issues I was trying to hide as a full time working college graduate. It was a facade I knew I could only keep up for so long. This time, we gathered the money and went to Planned Parenthood for a medical abortion, or the abortion pill. I was too embarrassed to go back to the health practice I’d been to previously, even though based on everything I read, surgical seemed less painful than medical. We went in together, again, on a Friday, and I was given the first pill. I took the second on Saturday, and then went through a weekend of hell. I’d never been so sick in my life. By Monday, I was back to normal and the procedure was complete. I certainly would not want to go through that again. I am eternally grateful that I have not one, but two, facilities in my town that provide safe legal abortion services. My insurance did not cover it, and both procedures cost me close to $2000 total. Sitting here typing this after having finally ended that relationship, I am sad that in the future, he will not be the father of my children. But he isn’t the right person to the be the father to any children, and he has admitted this. I don’t regret my decision. I am glad we don’t have two children now who would be caught in our turmoil and would forever link me to him. I need him out of my life, and he finally is.