I was 23 years old. I never thought this is how I would end up. I had dreams of living in New York and being successful. I never even imagined that I would get pregnant by someone I was merely dating and be left.
It was in September. I was late. Everything felt fine, just vaguely off. I took two tests and realized. As I called the father, he had no reaction. He said, "Ok." He didn't ask how I was, what I was going to do, or what part he played. The Saturday came and I went to the clinic. It was a gritty office with rickety elevators and a cold Russian staff.
It was my turn. I went in. I saw the ultrasound. That's when I realized that it was real. This was a child. This was growing inside of me and it wasn't such an abstraction. I was very early in term and had to get a shot.
The next week was the worst week of my life. I couldn't look at children. I couldn't look at pregnant women. My eyes were glazed over at all times and I couldn't focus. The pain was excruciating.
I don't have regrets in life, but this event made me question myself and the way I was living. I was reckless and I got punished for it. It has now been nine months. It's strange to think that right now my life would be completely different. I would have a child, an infant, a baby. Ultimately I think I made the right decision, but I will always wonder.