I was 16 years old, from a poor family, and was with this older guy… 21 years old, from a middle-class family. We had been talking (nothing sexual) since I was 14 years old.

At 16 we had sex for the very first time. I hadn’t missed a period, but I knew I felt weird. I had learnt enough about my body in school to know that something was off.

I told my boyfriend, and he suggested that I did a pregnancy test. Sure enough, it was positive. We had mixed reactions because we were both Christians and he had just started Med school abroad.
We spoke about it for 2 days until he invited me back to his house where he lived with his sister. The sister did not ask questions, she just started instructing me on what to do… so pretty much she had already made an appointment for me at their family doctor. I did not object. I went with her and did the procedure without even thinking.

This was July 03rd of 2003, and my Valedictory service was set to July 4th. Not only had I just had an abortion before I even had time to digest that I was pregnant, but I had to go back to my mother’s house, pretend to be fine, hide my antibiotics, and attend my school leaving exercise the following day.
It was hard for me because I really loved this guy. Fast forward many years later… we broke up, and I still haven’t told my mother that I ever got pregnant. I deeply regret this decision because I feel it was never even mine. I have since married and conceived but it haunts me every time I hear an abortion story.