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The day I found out was pregnant I was filled with emotions—good and bad, excitement and anger. All those emotions left me confused about what I should do. At first I was sure of my decision to terminate the pregnancy. I didn’t want to get attached and think of the future with my baby. I was still hurting and angry about the event that resulted in the pregnancy, being raped. I was forced into this marriage; I had no choice. Not a soul helped, even after I begged and cried for help. I was left abandoned and betrayed by the people I held close to my heart. My parents gave me two choices. Either keep the baby, and stay with the man I did not want to be with, or terminate the pregnancy and have a divorce.

When I had the abortion, my dad still said I couldn’t get a divorce—though I was in the U.S. and he was in the Middle East. I was angry. I had so much hatred towards my parents. Why and how can they watch me go through all of this and not have wanted to help their baby? I blamed God. I asked and cried for help, day in and day out. I fell into deep depression, wondering why. Why me? I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to go to work; I wanted to hurt myself. I questioned the person I am. How could I kill something that is a part of me? How did I let myself do that?

I’ve never been pregnant before and never gave birth, but I have been in the delivery room with my sister. Of course I didn’t feel my sister’s pain when she was giving birth, but it felt like the same experience. I was having contractions, I was induced, and the doctor was sticking this tool inside me to suction my baby out. Half way though the procedure I wanted her to stop, but it was too late to take back my choice. It was so painful, both emotionally and physically. I couldn’t stop the tears.

I regret my choice, still to this day—although I am not ready for a child. I just turned 19 in July 2015. I feel guilty; I find myself thinking about what could have been. Who would my baby have been? I wanted to witness my baby grow up; I wanted to witness first steps and first words. I still wonder if it was a boy or a girl, if he/she would have had my features or looked nothing like me. I also wonder, “What if I kept the baby and didn’t want anything to do with it because of the rape?” What if I saw the man that raped me every time I looked into the baby’s eyes? What if I didn’t want to hold the baby? What if I hated the baby?

I suffer for the decision I’ve made every day. Every time I see a baby or a little kid walking with his mommy. Every time I hear my niece and nephews call for their mom, my mind wanders off into this fantasy that maybe in the afterlife I’ll get to meet my baby and explain myself and my reasons behind my decision, how sorry I am that they had to suffer for something they didn’t have a choice in. It’s so hard to move on with my life, and I don’t think I ever will. Growing up I loved kids, I even loved babies when I was a baby. I knew when I grew up I’d have a bunch of them, and would love each and every one of them. Now I don’t know how I’d even bring myself to it. How can I conceive or think about having another child when I killed my very first child, my blood, my baby? I can’t, and I don’t think this guilt will ever go away.

If I could tell another woman my opinion on abortion it would be this. If you don’t have controlling parents or someone in your life that would make it hard for you, go with adoption instead. It’s hard regardless of what choice you make, but at least you can give a gift to someone who will love the child. And maybe think about an open adoption so you can still stay in contact with the child if you ever wanted to. Maybe this will come off as hypocritical to some, because I didn’t make that choice, but I couldn’t have made that choice because of my parents. My heart is with every woman going through something like this.

Age: 19
Location: Seattle, WA
Date: September 20, 2015