Choosing abortion allowed me to choose my life

In 2004, when I was 18, my doctor confirmed that I was pregnant.

I had been living with my boyfriend, in Coquitlam, B.C., for some time, but I had neither planned for, nor wanted, a pregnancy. I didn’t tell him. He was four years my senior and our relationship was rocky at best. I knew if I told him, he would pressure me to keep the baby. That wasn’t what I wanted, so I booked an appointment to end the pregnancy.

I had my abortion at approximately 10 weeks. The procedure was straightforward albeit nerve-racking. I don’t remember much of what went on or how I felt because it was, in my experience, uneventful.

My boyfriend and I broke up for unrelated reasons shortly after my abortion — which I never told him about. I packed my bags and started fresh in New Brunswick shortly thereafter.

In 2011, I fell head over heels for Prince Not-So-Charming. A few days into the umpteenth reunion of what was an undeniably toxic on and off relationship, I was feeling unusually tired and had an inkling I might be pregnant. I took a pregnancy test, and unsurprisingly, it was positive.

We were both shocked but decided to embrace our growing family. We wasted no time taking classes, choosing names and shopping baby aisles. We heard the heartbeat. After the first ultrasound we shared the images with family and friends the minute we arrived home. It was an exciting time — until it wasn’t.

I don’t remember the specifics leading up to our breakup, I just remember that suddenly he wanted me gone. I was devastated. I scrambled to pack up what I could fit in a suitcase and caught a bus home to my family in B.C. 

I had no job, no education, no home of my own and was now without the father of my baby. I had struggled with depression for several years and I knew how poorly I would cope with the stress of being a single mother. I was unable to provide myself or my child with a good life at that time. 

I knew that as the pregnancy developed, and once I saw the baby after birth, I would struggle to give the baby up, therefore adoption was not a suitable choice for me. 

So, for the second time in my life, I chose abortion.

The days leading up to my second abortion were heart wrenching. I felt so guilty for what I was about to do, and even more guilty because I wanted to do it. The two-day procedure, performed at 17 weeks, was physically painful and emotionally exhausting. When it was over, I felt relieved.

As Roe v. Wade is overturned, the number of unsafe abortions in America will dramatically increase. How privileged I am to have access to safe abortion easily and free of cost. How privileged I am to be able to generously provide for myself as opposed to most likely becoming stuck in a cycle of poverty and abuse. How privileged I am to have the right to choose.

Choosing abortion was never solely about not wanting a child; the choices were about me and my rights: I have the right to good physical and mental health, to an education, to healthy relationships and to gainful employment. I have the right to autonomy.

I am not ashamed of my abortions. I don’t feel guilty, sad, or any other unfavourable type of way. Choosing abortion saved me. It gave me the space to grow emotionally, to explore and become my true self. It allowed me to choose my life.