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I was 21 when I became pregnant with my first child. My boyfriend, whom I had been in a serious live-in relationship with for some time, was initially happy when I told him. I had every intention of keeping the baby, I quit doing destructive habits, joked about craving pickles. Then I noticed that he was withdrawing from me daily, a little at a time. I began to question my choice-was it wrong? If it was right, then why was he pulling away? I got out the phone book a few days later and made the call. He drove me there. There was a girl at the counter begging for an abortion and they told her, "You are five months along, it's too late!" I thought, five months? I wanted to run out of the room, but he was telling me it would be fine, even flirting with me. He seemed happy again. I was desperate not to lose him. I had the ultrasound; they told me he was eight weeks old. I know he was a boy. They didn't tell me, but I know.

The doctor's eyes were the coldest I have ever seen in a human being. Laying on the cot afterward, with dazed and sedated, crying girls and women all around me, I saw him walk past. He stopped and stared at me. I will never forget that stare; it was evil like I had never witnessed before.

At first, I was relieved. The problem was gone, right? The next night, I was taking a bath and felt something leave my body. I scooped it up, and it looked like a piece of flesh. I screamed. my boyfriend came in, and I showed it to him, shaking. "This can't be the baby, can it?" He shook his head and left the room. I didn't know what to do with it, I sat cradling it in my hand, crying. I sat there until the water left the tub. I said goodbye. I was never the same, and have not been the same since.

Later that night, my boyfriend forced himself on me. I realized that I had made a horrific mistake. I chose death when I could have chosen life.

I have had a series of problems with my female organs, from endometriosis to cysts. The physical pain is nothing, though, compared to the mental and spiritual hurt. I know they are a result of this "procedure." It is not my unwillingness to forgive myself, quite the opposite. It is my acknowledging the fact-the FACT of what I have done, not just to an unborn baby, but to myself. And my other children.

About a month later, I became pregnant again. I kept my second son, despite my boyfriend's reluctance. I also have a daughter with this man, who I am divorced from.

Every time I look at them, I see their brother. The one that they will never know.

I have four children, although only three of them are with me. You can not imagine the hurt that this inflicts, and it is lifelong. It doesn't go away, it only transforms itself. It never dies. Only the child does.

Age: 41
Location: Ohio
Date: July 19, 2012