In 2012 I was a senior in high school. My last homecoming, senior trip, prom and graduation were all around the corner. As a senior in high school that’s what should be on your mind. You should be focused on college applications and your last hoorah with your friends and classmates. At least that’s what I thought I would be focusing on. Instead I was deciding whether to carry or abort the baby I was currently carrying. I was trying to focus on getting through school with the all-day sickness, just so I could pass my senior year. Johnny and I have been dating for 2 years and I always thought eventually I would want kids. I knew I wanted them early but not this early. I use to think that everything happens for a reason or it’s part of god’s plan, but I just didn’t understand why this was happening now. I had a decision to make. I took everything into account. We were 17. We had financial support, no place to live, and no means of transportation. I had no emotional support. To me it felt like Johnny didn’t really care. He showed no emotion towards the subject. He said it was my choice to make and that he would be fine either way. Who says that? Who does that? It’s your baby and you don’t really care? I went to my last homecoming 11 weeks pregnant. In 2012 there was a recorded 699,202 abortions and 3.95 million births. My baby was one of those 699,202 babies aborted. October 13th. It was an awful experience. It was cold out and there were people outside of Planned Parenthood with posters and asking me to consider adoption, begging me not to do it. They were ruthless. I was ashamed. I sat on the waiting room floor for hours, while still puking my guts out. They gave me pills to take when I got there but they didn’t stay down. The room they took me to was cold and scary. I waited for a couple minutes. She took an ultra sound and asked if I wanted to see, but I couldn’t bear to. Then she shoved the vacuuming tube inside me and it made my stomach cramp. She turned it on and basically sucked out my insides. I felt empty. Like there was a huge hole in my stomach, in my heart. I felt like I just made the worst decision of my life. After I had gotten dressed the doctor came back in and gave me crackers, yea like that’s going to help. She told me about places I could go to or someone I could talk to. Before she stepped out she gave me a piece of paper. It was my baby, was. She had printed out a picture from the ultra sound. 12 weeks and 2 days. A little snoopy looking picture of what was my baby. I was sick again.

Two years later, 2014, I had another decision to make. Although it wasn’t a hard one. I didn’t care if I had emotional support, or financial support. All I cared about was that baby. The baby I wasn’t going to abort this time. No way and no how! In 2015 there was a recorded 906,000 abortions and 3,988,076 births. My baby was one of those 3,988,076 birthed.

Here we are now, 2017. Five years later. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret the decision I made. I realize now that I made it for all the wrong reasons. It could have worked out. It would have been hard, but it was my baby and I abandoned it. Being 17 I just didn’t really see any other option and I loathe the people who didn’t tell me otherwise. Who didn’t tell me that I was wrong. I hate them for not telling me what I have told me if I knew better. Abortion is a difficult decision and it’s especially hard when you don’t have any kind of support to help you deal with it afterwards. It can ruin your life if you don’t think it through. Or if you only care what others will think. I wish someone would have told me that on that cold October day.

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