at 19, i found myself pregnant, after a drunk night where i was positive my 27 year old boyfriend of 3 months had assured me he was wearing a condom. he was not. at first i denied reality. things like this didn’t happen to girls like me.

middle class, private high school, good college. i didn’t live at home at the time, and my parents seemed to be headed for divorce, so i decided it was best not to tell them. my mom would be supportive but my dad would be unbearable. i told my boyfriend, the alcoholic bad boy, who would invite the local drug dealer over to his place. the boyfriend would sit and do coke by himself, while i’d have a beer with the drug dealer and talk him through his problems with his stripper wife. i hadn’t pictured having kids with this man. this was not someone who was capable of being a good father and at 19, while i knew enough to know that i also knew that i could not be a good mother. in a strange twist on the story, the boyfriend wanted to have the baby. he was hoping a child would save him from himself and that is not a fair weight to put on any person’s shoulders. i declined, and while he did drive me to and from the clinic for the abortion, he would not give me even half of the $350. he called me a murderer and many other horrible names. he seemed to enjoy the pain i went through after. despite the emotional and verbal abuse i went through with him, i never regretted my decision. it was hard, but i look at the two kids i have now, in my healthy marriage with the man i love and know that i did the most responsible thing i could’ve given those circumstances.