We Had an Abortion. It Wasn’t My Body, but It Was My Baby.

When I was 19, I got a friend pregnant. In the summer, a friend and I had spent an evening together. A few weeks later she told me she was pregnant, and it was mine.I “wasn’t ready for a baby.” I had hopes and dreams ahead of me, and having a child seemed like the end of all those dreams.Neither of us expected it, and neither of us felt ready to raise a child together. We were not in love and thought it would be better to go our separate ways with a clean slate.

So we aborted our child.We gathered $400 from a friend and went to a clinic that prescribed us a pill. We drove to someone’s empty home where we would spend the night. I got her a glass of water to take the pill. I held her hand while she cramped and cried. I was there as we ended the life of our unborn child.When our procedure was over, I felt relief. I felt free to begin life again and make smarter choices. I could get a fresh start, and in many ways I did.But some choices leave scars. Ultimately, our abortion was one of those choices.

In the years since our decision, I’ve often reflected on what happened that summer. It has changed me.

I had been part of creating a life.

And then I had been part of ending that life.

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