Sex wasn’t talked about in our house. I was raised going to church every Sunday, saying grace before dinner, and praying before bed. The only times sex was brought up was when my parents were warning me not to do it. But mostly, it was just ignored.

I was 20 and in an on and off relationship for 4 years. At the time my drug addicted mother kicked me out and I just got my first apartment in a bad area of a town I was new to, far away from the place i grew up.

The first time, I was 18, a freshman in college, and should've known better. I was a smart girl. But my erratic (and oftentimes absent) periods made me think I was safe. When I found out I was pregnant, my sophomore boyfriend helped me find a clinic, paid for the procedure, and stayed with me.

Around 2001, when I was 27, I became pregnant. At the time, I was earning $5 an hour - a wage that barely kept me clothed, housed, and fed (in fact, I have no idea how I was able to be self-supporting on that amount). I had no health insurance and no family to help.

I grew up in a very emotionally unhealthy family, I didn't know about personal boundaries or that I could say no, stop.

I got pregnant shortly after my mother lost her grueling battle with ALS. It was a long, draining and emotional process that left me severely depressed and fragile.