December 31 1994

I’ve struggled with whether or not to write about this for a while now. For years, really. I think it’s finally time.

On December 31 ,1994 I had an abortion. I was 19 and pregnant with my fiancé’s baby. (He would become my husband then late husband.)

Though some would say it’s not important why I was pregnant, I think it’s very pertinent to what it going on right now with Roe v Wade. I became pregnant because we didn’t use birth control. That’s it. End of story. I was, as I said, 19, in college and didn’t want a kid.

At the time, I lived on a college campus in the Midwest. The town didn’t like that women had the right to choice in Illinois, and there was only one place to have an abortion. The clinic always had protestors.

I found out I was pregnant while visiting my family for Christmas. They still lived in San Francisco, CA. Where abortions were done in a fucking HOSPITAL. And there were no protestors. None. Not a fucking one. AS IT FUCKING SHOULD BE.

The experience was emotionally painful for a lot of reasons, but that’s not why we are here today.

I am telling my story because I am one of the many, many women you don’t want to have rights. And I’m not one of the “special cases”. I wasn’t raped, this wasn’t incest, this was two young adults being stupid and getting pregnant.

All people should have the right to safe and legal abortion. I don’t care what the reason for it is. You and I deserve to be safe and deserve to have the right to control what happens to our own bodies.

The end.

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