This story is published at Shout Your Abortion.

I’m 40 yrs old now and I’ve had two abortions.

The first time I was 19 years old, living with my first serious boyfriend in our own apartment. I was pretty immature, and thought that couldn’t happen to me.

When I got the positive pregnancy test, I cried my eyes out for days. I was afraid to tell my boyfriend and quickly thought about how I would be able to make this pregnancy work.

I realized I couldn’t. I couldn’t afford a baby, I had no baby sitters, I had to work to pay rent and had no time off or medical benefits.

I didn’t think I wanted to marry the person I was with and I really felt too immature to raise a child. I wanted to travel and go back to school. I decided to get an abortion.

My boyfriend drove me to a clinic that is actually famous for being terrible. My experience there was ok.

I was sat down with a room full of girls. We watched a video about the procedure and we were given a pill to help us relax.

We made nervous small talk in the waiting room until one by one we were called into the operating room. I opted to be put to sleep.

The doctor came in and introduced himself and asked me about myself. I felt safe. They put me to sleep. When I woke up I was groggy. I went home and went to sleep, glad it was over.

The second one was harder because I was married with two kids and, on paper, could handle another baby, but my youngest was only 10 months old and I knew I wasn’t ready, emotionally or financially.

My husband took it hard but was supportive of my decision. He always wanted a big family, as did I, just not this soon after my youngest had been born.

The clinic I went to was nice and new and clean but that didn’t distract me from the protestors out front calling me names.

A chaperone escorted me into the building and I was met with a genuine and nice staff.

This time though, I cried in the waiting room. I cried through the explanation of the procedure. I cried to the counselor and wondered why I wasn’t capable of handling two babies.

I felt sad, inadequate and lonely. I cried so much, they decided to push my procedure back, to one of the last appointments that day.

I came to terms with it. I went through with it and afterwards, felt relief.

The decision had been made and I had to make it for the entire family. I believe in quality of life, not just quantity of life. I don’t regret either one.