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You're late. At first you figure it's just nerves. After all,
you took precautions. I mean, you were always careful, except
maybe that one time...
So you buy one of those home pregnancy tests. You sneak it into
the house and spend one crazy, long night reading the instructions
over and over again. The next morning, your entire being becomes
fixated upon that unmistakable, red POSITIVE circle sitting at
the bottom of a plastic tube.
For the first time in your life, you understand the full meaning
of the word "panic". Your heart drops into a deep, dark
place you had no idea existed in your body, but you know it's
not moving until you get yourself out of this mess.
The crazy thing is that while your world is falling apart, some
neighbor down the street took that same test and also got a positive.
Only she's running down the hall to tell her husband the good
news. But life's sort of funny that way.
Okay girls, I know how you're feeling - believe me, 'cause I've
been there. Now, we're not going to talk about Pro Life vs. Pro
Choice-- this is not about that. This is about taking control
of a difficult situation by surrounding yourself with the people
who love and care about you the most and getting some good, solid
guidance.
Your first step may be to contact a school counselor or empathetic
teacher. You'll probably need someone to help you approach your
parents. Now you're thinking, "Liz, there's no way I can
tell my parents". As rough as this may seem, believe me,
it can be done.
I'd like to share something with you. Several years ago I was
staring at my positive result at the bottom of a cup. If only
I had known then what I know now, but I was just too full of myself
to ask for assistance from the right people. I decided to do things
my way...
Back then, I figured that "Pro Life" meant no life
left for me and whoever coined the phrase "Pro Choice"
had a sick sense of humor. I mean wasn't it my need to be free
and make my own choices that got me into this mess? Believe me,
there was nothing free about being a pregnant teen. And feeling
that there was no way out other than abortion wasn't much of a
choice.
I couldn't bear the secret alone, so I told my best friend and
of course, I also
told the father. But I guess this news was just too hot for them
to handle, 'cause by the time I got to
school, all eyes were on me (or maybe it was just my imagination).
My "trusted" friend volunteered to contact the local
abortion clinics. Meanwhile the other "responsible"
party figured he could raise at least most of the cash. After
all, he was the father.
As the days went by, the panic and fear only became worse. I
couldn't sleep. I looked like hell and my body sort of floated
through space, like I was no longer grounded and I didn't know
where I was headed. And I kept saying over and over to myself,
"What have I done? What have I done?"
Then my day at the clinic arrived. He came with me and so did
my "friend", who had by now told the whole continent.
The counselors were nice enough. They calmly informed me of the
procedure and risks. They answered questions and for one selfless
minute I thought to ask, "will the baby - er... fetus, embryo
or whatever - feel pain?". But that fleeting thought was
overtaken by fears for myself and instead I asked ,"Will
this hurt a lot?"
A few hours later, I lay at home no longer pregnant and the relief
that I thought I'd feel took the form of reflective depression
mixed with anxiety, 'cause I had to keep hiding all bathroom evidence
from my mother.
Aside from a phone call, I didn't hear from him much. But that's
okay, 'cause I didn't want to repeat this episode again. But believe
it or not, two weeks down the road when I was feeling lonely,
hurt and vulnerable, he showed up at the door. You see, he had
that urge and I was fair game once again. But things were never
the same between us.
Hey, don't get me wrong, it's not like I didn't survive all of
this. It's just that, well... take it from me, there are some
things in life that you never forget.
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