At about thirteen I was diagnosed as a type 1 diabetic.
(It has been over fifteen years since that diagnosis and I still have not achieved “good control”)
I started smoking sometime later that year.
At about seventeen I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism.
Within two years I would be diagnosed with a number of other health problems.
Hormones are not an option, neither are IUDs.
Since I was a child I have always wanted to raise children.
Since my diagnosis as a diabetic, I knew I would eventually adopt rather than have my own children.
Pregnancy is difficult for diabetics.
It is risky; it must be well planned; it must be monitored carefully.
With good control, it is possible to have a healthy baby.
Knowing all that: diabetes is hereditary.
I cannot live with the idea of putting my child through what I go through on a daily basis.
That is all without considering the effects of hypothyroidism, or my other health problems, on pregnancy.
When I was 23 a condom broke; he hadn’t ejaculated, we thought nothing of it.
It was fourth of July my cycle had ended two weeks before; he hadn’t ejaculated, we thought nothing of it.
We had just started dating, though we remained together another four years.
Then my period didn’t start.
I made an appointment at Planned Parenthood.
I explained to the receptionist the time frame and my health concerns.
I had a trans-vaginal ultrasound, confirming the pregnancy was less than 8 weeks, and took the pills.
I’m nearly thirty now; around Christmas time I was ten days late.
I only knew the clinic was there from seeing protesters outside.
I called the clinic to make an appointment for three days later.
Twenty minutes after I got off the phone with the receptionist I started bleeding.
I had a miscarriage.
I still cannot find a doctor willing to perform a tubal ligation.
I “will change my mind”, so I keep being told.
Choice is important, at all steps.
Constantly being told I will one day change my mind about a decision I have firmly believed in, for well over half of my life, is degrading.