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It was three days before my 20th birthday, and I was spending the day with my boyfriend. He really was something. He wasn't the most attractive. When I first started hanging out with him I had zero intentions of dating him, but he was persistent. Beyond funny, he just made me feel like a better person when we were together. I really thought he was it; he was the one. I don't think could have been any more wrong. So anyways, my mom called me complaining about my room being messy and told me if I didn't come home and clean up then I would find my things in the yard. So I left my boyfriend’s house and, sure enough, when I pulled up I saw all my clothes laying in the yard. I went inside and picked up my things and my mom came out of her room yelling at me. We fought and long story short, she kicked me out. So at this point I'm staying with my boyfriend, along with his family. I already felt like a burden, but I was beyond emotional. Like uncontrollably emotional. By the time my birthday came around my dad said they wanted to take my boyfriend and me out to dinner. So we went. It was nice, and I even made a joke about beating teen pregnancy. I still wasn't on good terms with my parents, so I was still staying with my boyfriend. Tension grew, and I got sick. I smoothed things over with my parents and then next thing I know, I'm being dumped. I drove to Athens to stay with a friend the next day and really to go out and get my mind off things. The next week I was beyond sick. I knew it wasn't just a hangover. I went to school that Wednesday and told my friend. We went and bought a test. I took it in an Arby's bathroom on Howell Mill Rd of all places. I just knew it was going to be negative, and I was going to go on with my life and forget my ex. Well, it wasn't negative. My heart sank. I'd never felt such a heavy weight on my chest before. I came out of the bathroom crying and shaking. I couldn't even form words to tell my friend what the test said, but she obviously knew. I called that afternoon to make a doctors appointment to confirm everything before I was going to tell my ex. Monday came around, April 20th, which was ironic because it was his off day, and I knew exactly what he would be doing when I called him to tell him we needed to talk. I went to my appointment and they did an ultrasound. I heard the heartbeat and everything. It even looked like a baby already. I called him. He didn't answer, so I left a message and he called right back. He knew immediately before I even said anything. I went to his house, and we talked. I was firm when I said I was going to keep it—whether he was going to be around or not. But he insisted I sleep on it and we talk again the next day. So I did. Even before I went to his house that night, I still had my mind made up. He cried in front of me. He was 6'4, a GROWN man, crying about how his life and my life were about to be ruined. He told me I wouldn't be able to finish school, my parents would condemn me, my friends would abandon me, and he and I would have no shot at working things out if we tried to raise a child while we did it. He talked me into getting an abortion. I've never cried that much in my life. I called and made the appointment. I spent the night with him the night before. We woke up super early, and his mom was making us coffee in the kitchen. She even told me to keep the prenatal vitamins my doctor gave me because they would make my hair grow. We drove downtown, Piedmont Ave, that I pass on my way to school every morning now. I slept in his lap after I filled out paper work and he paid for everything. They finally called me back, and I was in a waiting room with other women—some who had been there multiple times and others who were just as scared as I was. I told myself I didn't care. It wasn't even a baby yet, right? After I woke up, I've never been in as much pain as I was that day. He took me to dinner at a place where his friend worked but made me take the bandage off from where the IV was so that no one would ask questions. I stayed with him that night and the next. Then he went on a trip to Florida and slowly stopped answering my phone calls or returning my texts. People started to talk, and it got around back to me that he had told our friends what we did. When I asked him about it, he never even replied to me. Zero contact. A couple weeks after that I saw him out in public. He came up to me and acted like nothing had ever happened. Like I was just some girl he knew from high school or something. I didn't even know who he was. Not only did I lose my child, but I lost more than that. I felt like I'd lost myself. It's the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last thing I think of before I go to bed. It haunts me 24/7. Not a day goes by that it doesn't cross my mind. I'm not by any means a bible thumper or anything of that sort. If you're considering having an abortion, please, please, please reconsider. I would never want another human being to bear the weight and guilt that I feel on a daily basis from making the decision I made. Please don't let anyone talk you into it either. It's YOUR body and your child. No one makes that decision for you, no matter what reasons they try giving you. Talk to someone; there ARE other options.

Age: 20
Location: Atlanta, GA
Date: July 2, 2015