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He said I was ovulating as he was inside me. That was the day our baby was conceived. This was something I always wanted—to be pregnant. But I told him I wanted to wait; let's have fun. He was drunk that day and just coming down from a high. We’d only known each other for two weeks, but he was my world for two weeks. I asked for space; that was the last time I saw him. Plan B never crossed my mind because I was sure I was going to keep it. I'm 31, have a decent job, my own place. No matter what, I was sure. Then it became too real and I couldn't handle it emotionally. I know hormones are intense, but some days I couldn't get out of my bed. Work was miserable. He was ignoring me and just turned his back on me. The thoughts of being a single parent scared me. My depression was overwhelming. I Googled abortion every day—checking the times of clinics. It was just so easy to get this over with. I tried to love this baby inside of me. The OBGYN said it was healthy. I went week after week hoping for bad news, but I kept getting good news. I cried through the fourth visit and told my doc I was considering abortion. She gave me the generic responses. I texted my best friend and called the baby “it.” This was my 3rd pregnancy. I had my 1st abortion when I was 18; my mother forced me. The 2nd was a miscarriage that my ex may have caused when he slammed me on the ground. This one was my choice. My time and my choice. The father was just absent and didn't care. No matter how many times I cried for his attention. This wasn't what I wanted. Not this way. I wanted a supportive man. Every morning I cried. Every night I cried; I could barely move. My misery was overwhelming. Every time I went to the bathroom, I hoped to see blood. I was almost 9 weeks—final week for the pill. I ran to the clinic; the nurse was very keen to dispense abortions, as if she was giving vitamins. I told her I was anemic. She checked my levels. I quickly thought, “If it's too low, it's not meant to be.” But my numbers were right. She swiped my card, and I popped the first pill. In and out in less than 20 minutes. The next day, I had my abortion at home, alone. Shaking, screaming it was done. I finally saw blood. I felt relief. For days I couldn't talk about it. I took my emotions and just tucked them away. I listened to a woman talk about her kid on TV and I broke. I cried for two hours, hyperventilating, alone—asking for forgiveness. Why wasn't I strong enough? I have tons of support and love. It just wasn't enough to survive three more weeks. My eyes still burn. I wasn't 100 percent sure about the abortion. Every day I was hoping my baby was dead. What woman has those thoughts? There was a heartbeat under my heart, but I just couldn't find the joy. I feel weak. I'm disappointed in myself. Some of the best rewards come from the toughest battles. I gave up. I couldn't bare to let anyone know how weak I was, so I just told them I miscarried. I can't say the truth. The joy I should have had. I’m usually stronger. I was depressed, pregnant, miserable and couldn't live another day that way. I should have fought back.

Age: 31
Location: New York, NY
Date: April 18, 2019