I was 18 years old and in a mentally abusive relationship with a boy I had been on and off with for 2 years. 4 days after graduating from high school we had unprotected sex and 5 weeks later that little stick showed up with those two little lines.

My story is really a story of beginnings. I had just met the most amazing man. The man of my dreams. We were 2 peas in a pod. In fact, I liked him so much I didn't have sex with him for weeks. Well lo and behold the first time out of the gates and apparently we got knocked up.

When I was 22, I got involved with an older man who was separated from his wife (living separately as well). Within 2 months, he asked me to marry him, be the mother of his children, and wanted us to live together so we got an apartment just over the border in New Hampshire.

I am 67, and very grateful that my reproductive years coincided with availability of birth control and legal abortion. My husband and I tried to have a baby in our early 30's. Instead we had two miscarriages. I was fortunate that I could have D&C's in a hospital to safely clean out the remains of the miscarriages.

My mother died after a long illness in 1970, my father in 1974, when I was 30. I had been suffering from clinical depression even before that.