My abortion story
I didn’t make this decision lightly. I didn’t wake up one day and feel sure. I sat with it. I cried through it. I questioned myself more than I’ve ever questioned anything in my life.
In February of 2025, I left my fiancé after I found out he had cheated on me. My life already felt like it had been turned upside down. I was grieving a future I thought I had, trying to rebuild myself, and learning how to feel stable again.
Then, in May, I found out I was pregnant — by my boyfriend.
Everyone talks about how you’re supposed to feel in that moment. Happy. Excited. Overwhelmed in a good way.
But that wasn’t my reality. I had always imagined finding out I was pregnant in a completely different chapter of my life. I dreamed about telling my spouse in a cute, meaningful way — after finishing college, after being settled, after being financially secure. I imagined it happening when life felt safe and steady.
That’s not how reality hit me.
I saw the two pink lines on a pregnancy test in the bathroom of my new job. I remember just standing there, staring at it. I was absolutely terrified and completely shocked.
I immediately started crying. I felt sick to my stomach. My hands were shaking.
Everything I had just started to rebuild suddenly felt fragile again.
I thought about my life. My relationship. My mental health. My stability. My future.
For an entire week, I went back and forth in my head about what I should do. Every day felt like a new decision. One moment I thought I could handle it. The next moment I felt completely overwhelmed. I kept asking myself what was fair, what was responsible, and what I could realistically carry emotionally.
I thought about what I could truly give a child — not just love, but safety, consistency, and emotional presence. And I had to be honest with myself about where I actually was in my life, not where I wished I was.
The hardest part wasn’t the procedure. The hardest part was the weight of the decision.
I didn’t feel reckless. I felt responsible.
There were moments I felt relief. There were moments I felt deep sadness. There were moments I felt guilty for feeling relieved.
All of those feelings existed at the same time.
What people don’t talk about enough is how isolating this experience can be. Even when you have people around you, it still feels deeply personal. It still feels heavy. It still stays with you.
I don’t regret making the decision that was best for me and my life at that moment. But I also allow myself to grieve the version of my life I had once imagined.
Both can be true.
My abortion was not a lack of love. It was an act of honesty with myself.
And I deserve compassion for that.