At 17, I learned that I was pregnant by my long-term boyfriend. He was my first love. In return, I knew that I was his. Once being told that the conception had been confirmed, my boyfriend immediately stepped up to the plate. Although the decision was mine to make, he very much wanted to carry the pregnancy through. He was already doing great in college and playing football as I was preparing for my freshman year. We both told our parents and received support from everyone except his father. I later learned that I was carrying twins.
At 28, I met a Naval Chief and believed I had found love again. Albeit an on/off relationship (you know how fickle military men can be), we made it work. Unfortunately, I learned that he was married.
I aborted my babies out of my own ridiculous selfishness. Afraid of the unknown, I didn't want to ruin my life. But the irony of it all is that I did anyway.
Both clinic experiences were life shaping. The staff was about as stoic as a swamp. I was well informed, yet disenfranchised by the number of women that was there to do the same as I. Immediately following the procedure I slipped into a state of depression, both times. The long-term effects have been insurmountable. There is not a day that passes where I don't think about the shape of their faces, or how much the fetuses resembled the both of us, even in my womb. Yes, I'm devastated and empty as a result of my poor (versus pro) choices. #thepoorestchoicesever
However, I can find some healing in breaking my silence as well as in hope that someone reads this and chooses life. #babiesrblessings