it was the end of winter break when i learned i was pregnant: my first winter break since transferring into an extremely competitive college. i’d spent four years toiling away at community college to transfer and i was reaping the rewards. my boyfriend of three years was only a semester from graduating and i wanted to marry him. when i told him nervously that i was pregnant he looked me in the eyes and said he didn’t want it, that he never, ever wanted children, and didn’t i know that already?

i looked into raising that baby on my own; i checked out family student housing and tried to figure out how much in student loans i could take out but i was already maxed out. plus i was due in september, right at the beginning of what was supposed to be my last year of college. i knew the “father” would never be present and that if i was to have this baby i’d have to do it completely alone. my children deserve to have a father, not a sperm donor, and they deserve to not live in poverty, which they most certainly would have if i’d carried that fetus to term. i had the abortion and moved out. old mutual friends tell me he’s a jobless alcoholic ten years later. thank g-d i escaped that nightmare.