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• /abort73

I was 20, and life was perfect. I'd just come home from an amazing holiday—the first I'd ever paid for by myself. I'd been offered a place at university, I had a wonderful, loving, long-term boyfriend, I had a bright, brilliant future, and I could barely be happier.

Then I took the test and saw a little pink cross; the result took seconds. The moment I saw it, I fell in love—in love with my little miracle, my unborn angel. Suddenly nothing else mattered; I just loved my baby. I told my boyfriend, and he smiled. He just smiled and touched my tummy; suddenly a future I didn't know I wanted was right there in front of me, and I didn't want anything else any more. But then everything started to fall apart around me.

My boyfriend wouldn't talk about the baby after that. I worked out how many weeks I was (about 7 or 8 by this point), I read up on how our baby was as big a blue berry and how it had arms and hands and a heart beat twice as fast as mine. My jeans felt tight and feeling that hard lump in my tummy was the most amazing thing ever. But my boyfriend, my amazing baby’s daddy wouldn't talk about it. He'd ignore my texts, he'd change the subject, he wouldn't mention it when we talked, he wouldn't ask, he'd ignore the fact I was pregnant. He didn't care. He left me alone. Completely alone, I couldn't talk to anyone. I couldn't break my mum’s heart. I had no one.

Then he told me he didn't want the baby. He wasn't ready; he still had his life to lead, and this would end his life and mine. He told me he didn't love our baby—that if I kept it he'd stand by me but it would ruin him. I had been so happy, and now it felt like some one had ripped my heart out. I aborted my baby on the 26th June 2015.

I had every opportunity to stop it—to be strong and stand up for my angel—but I didn’t. I couldn’t; I just let it happen. As I lay there on that operating table while the doctor took my baby’s life, I didn't even think about what they were doing. I felt numb. I felt relieved when it was over, but the shame and disgust at what I had done were the worst feelings I had ever experienced. I can't describe the emotional pain I went through. Regret, hatred for myself, loss, and agony for my lost baby. The baby I didn't fight for.

I'd stood there in front of that clinic with a choice and I chose wrong. I'd felt trapped, like I had no choice but to murder my child. My choice was to condemn my boyfriend to a life he didn't want, a life he didn't choose, and a baby he'd resent for ever, or condemn me to a life of shame, a life of regret, pain, and disgust in my self. I condemned my baby to death because of my boyfriend’s selfish reasons and my stupidity. I lost something more precious than I could ever imagine, just because of my stupidity.

I would change places with my baby every single day, so that they were here in daddy’s arms where they belong. I saw the scan picture once, and I will never see my baby again. I have to live with that fact every single day. It’s not my boyfriend’s fault, it’s mine. I wasn't strong enough to fight for my baby. I will never forgive my self, my whole life long. Never let anyone else influence your decision. Be strong, and fight for your baby—because you will never forget, and you will never forgive yourself. You'll live with that shame forever, and your baby won't ever live at all. Life with your child is the most beautiful thing. Never give it up. Your baby is amazing and deserves a life.

Age: 20
Location: Warwick, England
Date: July 15, 2015