You won't know what you would choose until you've lived it.

I was an avid reader of Dear Abby growing up. I liked learning what the "right" action or response was to life's myriad problems (and I liked sitting in judgement on the folks who wrote in). At the ripe old age of 10, I'd solidified three deep convictions: that 4 years was right amount of time to be dating before engaged, that if it's not one's business, one shouldn't get involved (even if one really wants to), and that, push come to shove, I would never have an abortion because it wasn't the responsible and moral thing to do.

Well, one of three ain't bad.

Fast forward a couple of decades and here I am, six years married (engaged after a scandalously short single year of dating), still trying really badly to keep my nose out of other people's business, and I've had an abortion. I was in my senior year of college when one of my eggs got fertilized. It was autumn and the air was crisp. The fertilizer was someone I had met at country swing dance and had been casually dating for about a month. He was someone I knew wouldn't be my ride or die partner, but he was gentlemanly and country and I enjoyed spending time with him.

The morning I realized that the sex I'd had had been unprotected was about four days after the act. That morning I went with my friend to the laundromat. Her washer was broken. As she sorted her lights from darks, I told her about what was on my mind and possibly in my uterus. She gathered up her unwashed clothes and walked me to the drug store where I bought and consumed a day after pill and pregnancy tests. After reading the instructions and calculating when I could take my first pregnancy test, I was left with a long stretch of waiting time and my own mind. Interestingly, I never made a firm decision about what I would do once I got word either way. Mostly I buried the possibility. When I peed on that first stick, to me it didn't look like there was a line. I showed it to my roommate and she shook her head in an "I'm sorry" kind of way. I asked if there was any possibility that there wasn't a line. I got another "I'm sorry" shake.

Though I hadn't made a conscious decision, I found myself placing the test on the counter and walking over to my phone. I called Planned Parenthood and got information on my options for an abortion. I scheduled a date.

I asked the fellow I was seeing to meet me. I told him I was pregnant. He didn't say anything for several minutes. I tried to give him time. I informed him that I wasn't going to continue the pregnancy. Again, he said nothing. I heard from him once over text after that, asking a very weak "Are you ok?" He didn't offer to help pay for the abortion ($800), question my decision, or offer any kind of emotional support. I learned later that he married within the year.

It feels good to write about. It's not a huge part of my life, it is just a part of my life. If I hadn't chosen an abortion, I'd have a kid going into 3rd grade and I would love that kid wholeheartedly. Because I'm not a monster. And because I couldn't have placed my baby for adoption; how many women do you think could carry, bear, and meet a baby that is theirs and then place it for adoption? Less than you'd like to think. And those that have - you better believe that twists something inside of them that will remain twisted throughout their life (be it in a small or significant way).

I would have an eight-year-old. And I wouldn't have a masters degree in a field I love. I wouldn't have my perfect-for-me husband and my two young children (who have two parents ready and able to love and raise them exactly how they want to without undue financial or social/emotional hardship). I would have a very different life. And that was a life I didn't choose. I chose this one, way back when.

What I want you to hear is that every time I think of that fork in my life, I am filled to the top of my soul with gratitude, love, and joy in making that choice for myself and my eventual family. I didn't settle. I chose.

And Abby, it was the right choice for me.