We loved each other instantly and I knew he was the one. We moved around exploring new cities and countries together for two years before deciding to return home. We bought our first home and I anticipated getting married soon and starting a family. 

After a year of settling back in, he started staying out late, partying, and doing drugs with old friends. Ultimately, he let me know he was unhappy and had been cheating on me. He left with her and never spoke to me again. Just a couple of months later, they became pregnant. I was devastated and it hurts to think about even now. 

I went to the gynecologist to get tested for STDs. We discovered my IUD did not set in correctly from years ago and needed to be removed. It was almost as painful to remove as it was to insert. At the time I thought, “Well, I’m not having sex with anyone, so there’s no need to torment myself with another one of those for now.” 

I tried to move on and spent every weekend at the bars. I drank a lot and started sleeping with people. It felt good to feel desired and not so lonely for those fleeting moments. After being off birth control for just 1.5 months out of the past 12 years of my life, I decided I should probably get back on it. I took a negative pregnancy test as a prerequisite to start Nexplanon. 

A little over a month later my breasts were in excruciating pain. I couldn’t sleep without wearing a bra. I made an appointment with my gynecologist to see if everything was okay. Without hesitation or the slightest of worries, she told me it was just a side effect of the Nexplanon. She gave me a breast examination and told me to take over the counter pain relievers. I went on with my life. 

I stopped hooking up with people and started to just focus on me. I read self-help books, worked out, and started to get more comfortable being on my own. One night months later, I had a sharp pain in my lower back. I texted my roommate to see if she was awake because I knew something wasn’t right and wanted someone to know in case of an emergency. The next day I felt fine again and told my co-worker about it. She persuaded me to see a doctor right away to rule out an infection. I felt silly going but I ended up heading to urgent care after work that day. I told them I thought might have a kidney infection or even a UTI — I’d never had one before and didn’t know what that felt like. They asked if there was any chance I could be pregnant, to which I responded no, I’ve been on birth control since I was 17 and I haven’t had sex in months. They gave me the usual response that it was protocol to do a pregnancy test, so I peed in the cup for them. Moments later, they delivered the news that they believed I was about 20 weeks pregnant. 

I was in complete shock and began to cry, frantically racking my brain, blacking out as they were talking to me. How many months is that? Who could the dad be? It’s not my ex is it? What the fuck — there is a baby inside of me? I’ve been drinking so much. This baby can’t be healthy. What am I going to do. Is abortion even an option at this point? I don’t want to have a baby this way. It’s not time. The next day I got a call from a nurse to schedule a visit to the hospital for an ultrasound. She asked for information on my pharmacy so I could get started on taking prenatal vitamins right away. No mention of my options just an assumption that I’m having this baby. I chose to go to the hospital alone. When I got there, again, no mention of my options just an assumption that I’m having this baby. During the ultrasound, I looked away from the screen and cried quietly. I could feel the nurse judging me in her mannerisms and the tone of her voice. Do you want to know the sex? No. Do you want to keep the images? No. How far along are you? I don’t know, I just found out yesterday. I can sense that she thinks I’m careless and ignorant when she confirms I’m 20 weeks and a few days. I have shame building up inside and want to defend myself telling her the whole story, but it’s long, she didn’t ask, and I don’t think she cares. 

Next, I see the doctor. Finally, this angel of a man asks, has anyone talked to you about what options you have? No, I say, with both frustration and relief. He lists the options and I immediately respond that I’d like to get an abortion but wasn’t sure if it was possible, now trying to justify my choice with the backstory. In this case, he listens but it doesn’t matter why to him. It’s simply my choice. He comforts me, sharing that he knows this is a tough place to be (Idaho) when it comes to making that decision, but it’s totally safe, and he’s personally performed many abortions at my stage of pregnancy when he worked for Planned Parenthood. He leaves the room to make some calls. 

I was too far along to go to the clinic 1.5 hours away and only had a few days to get to the one 4 hours away. If I waited any longer than that, I’d need to go to one 6.5 hours away. I called and made the appointment as soon as I got home. I learned that I would need to be there for two days and wouldn’t be able to drive myself for 24 hours after the procedure, so it would be important to bring someone along. 

My mom had been waiting and waiting to become a grandma. I could see the pain in her eyes when I told her about my decision. She asked me to please not tell anyone in the family. Despite her feelings, she wanted to take me. I couldn’t imagine that going well. I would be comforting her, making sure she was okay, and reassuring her that this is what I wanted. 

To be honest, I wasn’t positive who the father was. But I made my best logical guess. At first, I didn’t know if I would tell him, but something inside me told me that he was only person I wanted to be there. He was surprised to hear from me and actually thought I wanted to meet up to buy drugs from him. A little stab to the heart realizing how little he had paid attention to me—I was far from interested in dabbling with drugs, and we’d had plenty of those conversations. When I started crying, he still had no idea why I was there. He thought I was upset about something my ex did and was looking for a friend. When I finally gathered myself to tell him the situation and what I had decided to do, he quickly responded, “When are we going?” I was relieved he was so willing to take me, but he told me he didn’t have anything to offer when it came to sharing the cost. 

The gynecologist who overlooked my pregnancy symptoms found out I was pregnant and called me personally from her cell phone. I think she felt horribly guilty but also, I suspected she was trying to avoid a lawsuit. She asked if there was anything she could do. Financially, I was in a horrible place. I couldn’t afford my mortgage and bills on my own and although I’d found roommates, I had to borrow money up until that point to get by. I asked her if there were any grants or financial assistance for my situation—the cost for the abortion was $1,800 plus travel, food, hotel stay, and time away from work. She said she didn’t know of anything and I was disappointed she wasn’t more willing to look into it or offer assistance herself when her negligence could’ve saved me a lot of money, not to mention the emotional trauma that I’d endure for the rest of my life. I take full responsibility for the pregnancy. I didn’t use condoms, only the pull-out method. But I really wished she would’ve given me that protocol pregnancy test that we all never think we need when I came to her with my symptoms. And I guarantee she’s never skipped that step since — and neither will I. 

The days leading up to the abortion were difficult to live through and difficult to explain. I didn’t drink at all after I found out, it felt so wrong, even though I knew I was getting an abortion. One of the days was my best friend's birthday, another was Mother’s Day. 

The likely father of the child drove us to the clinic. This happened to be his 3rd abortion. Really? I thought. But at the same time, it put me at ease knowing one of us had been here before and knew what to expect even a little bit. He was kind and caring. He wasn’t sad or scared that I know of. It was nice to have someone there that I didn’t need to worry about. But I still felt alone. The same way I’d feel the morning after we would have sex back then. I barely knew him and he didn’t love me. When he told his mother about the situation, she said “Why would you go with her?” 

Abortions happen on specific days at Planned Parenthood and the protesters know which days those are. Both times I entered the building they all stood outside holding up signs and yelling at me. I looked down and avoided eye contact, holding back tears as best as I could. My whole life I had always thought if I were at my age and got pregnant, I would keep the baby. Now, every time I think about judging someone about a decision made or hear another judging, I remember this time in my life. You can think you know what you’d do all you want, but until it happens to you, don’t be so sure. 

The first day is an ultrasound appointment confirming how far along you are once again. You get something inserted into your vagina to soften your tissues to prepare for the surgery the following day. That night we got some dinner and went to see a movie just trying distract my mind for a little while. We slept in separate beds at first, but after a while of not being able to fall asleep, I asked him if he could just hold me. He did. In the morning he dropped me off at the clinic for the procedure. 

I was scared and tears were flowing as I tried to stay calm, and soon I was under anesthesia. When I woke up, I was brought into a room with other women whom I assumed just did the same thing. We all got juice boxes and a snack while we rested. When I got back to the waiting room, he was waiting there with a cooler of snacks he prepared. We got our things from the hotel and headed home. I made a nest of blankets in the back seat. I bled through my feminine pads and we had to make several stops to take care of it. 

We didn’t make it very far before he got pulled over for speeding. That’s when I discovered he was not allowed to drive in the state of Washington. I told the cop he had traveled with me to drive me home after a surgery I’d just had this morning, but he said if he drove again, he would be arrested. I called the clinic to find out when I would be okay to drive. They reiterated that 24 hours is preferred but if it’s an emergency to at least not drive sooner than 8 hours after the procedure. We made call after call on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Finally, we found a friend of a friend that lived close by that we’d never met and they graciously came to drive my car to the nearest public location, a mall. We tried to kill time shopping, eating, and waiting. We made it to 5 hours before I said fuck it, and drove myself home. 

I have never regretted my decision but it’s by no means easy to live with it. It feels as though I think about it every single day. At this very moment, 5 years later, I’m pregnant with a little boy. Every time I get an ultrasound or read about what’s happening this week in the development, I’m so excited but I’m also sad. I feel guilty about the first baby that grew inside of me that I didn’t get to nurture. I’m learning about all the stages she was going through while I fed her alcohol and slept with different men. Her dad was irresponsible, depressed, and addicted to drugs. She was made from pain, selfishness, and desperation while this one was made from love. And I’m sorry.