I posted this on one of my other blogs. Thought it might be an encouragement to someone.
When I was 17, I considered having an abortion.
I wasn’t so much scared of being pregnant as prideful of the reputation I feared I’d lost. I’d had my “first time” and didn’t want the world to know. I “wasn’t THAT kind of girl”. I told no one, except one quiet friend, what I suspected. And I knew her heart ached for me.
As it turned out, it wasn’t a decision I would have to make. I wasn’t pregnant, and I would be able to muddle my way through my senior year with other crises to deal with.
The young man in question learned later of my suspicions, and I remember him taking my hand and squeezing it, and asking me, why had I not told him at the time? He looked like the wind was knocked out of him, and he told me gently, painfully (with his voice breaking…
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