It was the summer of 2013. I’d just graduated college. I had no job, so I had to move back in with my parents. As the only daughter of immigrant Asian parents, I was held to unreasonable standards in terms of my personal life. I was never taught about safe sex, contraceptives. I never saw an ob-gyn in my life. These were considered taboo… even unnecessary… to my family. Years ago, I had tried to speak to my mother about using tampons instead of pads and was hit across the face and dragged out of the local Costco. I was lectured about how using tampons were a sign of a slut and that couldn’t be a part of our family.

So when I realized I was 8 weeks pregnant after I had moved back to my home, I instantly felt dead inside. I knew who the father was, but I didn’t want to reach out to him. Adoption was out of the question. I couldn’t speak to my parents about it, because I knew I would be cut off financially and more than likely kicked out of my home before I had secured a job. I had no income. How was I supposed to start interviewing for a job that I would have to leave in a few months for maternity? No company would hire anyone in my situation.

So I made the decision to reach out to my local Planned Parenthood. They walked me through the process. They told me of the other options but ultimately stressed the fact that this was my decision and no one could tell me to do otherwise.

Three and a half years later, I am finally speaking up. I have only told a few of my closest friends, but I will never tell my family. As I watch our government slowly tearing apart a woman’s choice, I know it’s important to tell my story. It was not an easy choice. It isn’t like I wanted to do this. But due to my state’s more liberal policies, I had the ability to choose. Without that, I can’t say with certainty where I’d be in life. Thank you, to Planned Parenthood, for being there when I needed you the most.