Telling my story allows me to be free.

I was 23 when I decided to get an abortion. I had just gotten married in May 2016 and I discovered that I was pregnant in late July of that same year. I immediately panicked. One night, as my husband and I were laying down to go to bed, I asked him if I could have an abortion. That angered him even more than I could’ve imagined. I kept asking him. I would go to bed so angry each time that my husband denied me an abortion. At first, I asked if we could give the child up for adoption, but I didn’t even want to continue the pregnancy any further. Now, this was before I even realized that men and/or fathers did not have the right to say anything or stop a woman’s decision to terminate her pregnancy. I decided to just do it and NOT to tell my husband.

I asked my Nana (grandmother) to take me for a cervical biopsy. She didn’t know it was bad for the fetus, so she took me, without another question. I had to direct her away from the only two protesters on the other side when parking. I made sure that she didn’t see their signs. Instead, we were behind the anti-choice protesters.

I only paid $315 out of $1,500 because I could not come up with that amount of money on my own and in the short amount of time I had to make it in, which was a week and a half. I had financial help and they sent whatever I didn’t make to the clinic. I told my husband that I miscarried 5 days later and even waited in the parking lot of my OB/GYN. Then, had my Nana pick me after an hour went by. I told her that I had officially miscarried. She did end up asking me, “Did that biopsy have anything to do with this?” I just said, “No, I don’t believe that it did.” To this day, not a soul knows about my abortion. I used to be very religious and anti-choice and anti-abortion… until I panicked that day on July 26th, 2016 when I looked at that positive test. One day, I would like to tell my husband, but not now. I’m not ready. It’s my big secret and telling my story here allows me to be free.