I was in a serious relationship. Then again how serious can you be at 15? I was a virgin, he wasn't. We decided to take it to the "next level" two months into our relationship. I was happy I had lost something so special to him (I still am). We started having sex regularly, sometimes protected, sometimes not.
Five months later, he and I were having a few drinks with our mutual friend at my house. I had become quite intoxicated and started talking about how I hadn't gotten my period in a while. Both of the guys shrugged it off. I decided to grab a pregnancy test that I had bought but never used, and go downstairs into the bathroom. Three minutes later my life was changed. I ran upstairs and handed my boyfriend the test.
Tears ran down my face as he looked at the test, but he never said a word. Minutes crept by. It took us a while to talk about it, and what we were going to do. He promised me he'd get a job and we'd take care of it. I was excited, I wanted a baby so bad. A day later I told my older sister... she had just had her baby, so of course she couldn't picture me doing anything but giving birth to my baby.
As a week or so went by, the reality set in. There's no way our baby could be supported like a child should. A 15 year old mother and a 16 year old father... What kind of life would that be? Another week went by and I told my mother. She asked why I couldn't tell my dad, I mean I was living with him. So why did I run to my mom who wasn't around? The first sentence that came out of my mom's mouth was "This wouldn't have happened, if I had stayed in your life." Maybe she was right... Maybe she was wrong.
August 17th, 2006: My sister took me into the clinic. We were greeted by a police officer guarding the front door who asked if we could confirm that we had an appointment. The minute I stepped in the door, a cold feeling came over me. I signed and dated all of the papers I had to. They had me come back two hours later when they had an opening for the procedure. This time my mom took me. My sister still couldn't bring herself to know that I was taking the life of my own child. The process is still too much hurt to explain. I walked out of the building crying harder than ever and bent over holding my stomach. It was surreal.
I returned to my own house after to further recover. My boyfriend had come over to stay the night a few days after. We cried... it became clear what we did. But there was a reason. I'm still not sure if I could do it over that I would take the same path. Less than a month after, I told my father. He understood and took it very well. My boyfriend and I aren't together anymore, but we still talk and share that bond.
The road has been rough ever since. Due to people's lack of control over comments they would make to me about my abortion, I had to withdraw from my high school and go to an alternative school. I'm currently trying to educate teenagers around me about the risks of unprotected sex and having to make the choice of what path to take if they do get pregnant. I guess this is my way of trying to turn a horrible negative into somewhat of a positive.