I was married with two beautiful young children. My marriage was tragically ended when my husband burned down our house and himself.

I was 23 and I had just broken up with my jealous and controlling boyfriend. A couple weeks later I found out I was pregnant. I had no idea what to do, I told my ex boyfriend who told me there was no way it was his because I was clearly sleeping around and cheating on him.

Its not a memory I used to be able to share, but I have realized how necessary it is to accept who one is. I was 15, and my boyfriend was 16. I was raised in a strict Christian household, to the degree that sex and even more, contraception, was not a conversation in our household.

I received a safe and legal abortion when an unplanned pregnancy followed not long after the birth of my second child. Because I was treated with respect and care, and because the choice to end the pregnancy fit with my life plan and my core values, the event was not traumatic.

I was seventeen when I found out I was pregnant to a boy (also seventeen) who I had been dating for a little over a month. I barely graduated highschool, and had serious depression, anxiety, bulimia.

My boyfriend at the time took advantage of me, did not listen to me, and a month later I started craving blueberries (of all things!).