I had begun dating again. A nice guy, with a son the same age as my daughter. Six wonderful months. We weren’t stupid, we knew to be careful. We faithfully used condoms…always. One night, one broke. Once. We didn’t give it a second thought.
We ended up parting ways, on not so good terms. Three weeks later, I found out that I was pregnant.
I thought about contacting him, but I knew it wouldn’t change the decision I’d already made in my mind. We wouldn’t get married and magically live happily ever after. I would be on my own, trying to juggle two children (one with special needs).
I made the call. The closest clinic was 4 hours away. It would be 2 weeks until my appointment. I needed to come up with the money, get a babysitter and find a hotel room. There was a 24 hour waiting period after the first visit.
My daughter’s grandma went with me. She was supportive and non-judgemetal. The day of the procedure, the clinic was packed. It was 8 hours of waiting. I spoke to some of the other women that were there. Everyone had their own story and reason for why they had chosen this path.
I judge no one. People make the best decision, with what they have at that very moment. I have no regrets.