I was 19 when I thought that I was pregnant. I was confused. I couldn’t sleep. I could only think about the consequences.
When I saw that the pregnancy test was positive, I felt the world crumble around me. I was about to start university. My boyfriend at the time was very religious, which made things worse. I realized later that he was also abusive.
Fortunately, it was early enough for a medication abortion. However, the people who helped me didn’t seem to have medical knowledge. A pharmacy that sold the pills told me to insert two pills into my vagina. It caused a lot of pain, but no abortion.
Then I went to a clandestine clinic, and they told me to wait a few weeks so the fetus would be bigger and they would be able to take it out. That really scared me. I didn’t want to wait any longer—I was eight weeks pregnant.
I went back to the pharmacy to buy those pills again, and I did have an abortion this time. It felt like menstrual cramps. I was so relieved. It was as though I was getting my life back.
At the time, I only talked about the abortion with my boyfriend. The fact that he scorned me made me realize that the abortion was the best decision I could have made. When I broke up with him years later, he told my entire family that I’d had an abortion. I became severely depressed and cried all the time because of the things my sisters said to me. After 10 years, my family still judges me because of it.
When anti-abortion people talk about post-abortion depression, I really think the depression is due to what they make you feel. They blame you, they reject you, and they turn their backs on you.
When I was affected by the things they said, I talked about it with a friend. I knew she was a feminist. She always talked about women having choices.