In the back of his mother’s red VW bug, we were snug in love. Soon after, I did not need a plug.

It was 1979. I was sweet sixteen, a high school junior. I was pregnant. He was in the navy. I did not want to be his waitress wife. I wanted to be the first in my family to go to college. So, first we told his family. We knew they would not kill him. Then, we all told my family. We all decided that I would have an abortion, though he said he would marry me. His parents promised my parents he would-but I wanted to go to college. I knew I could not be a good enough mother or he a good enough father. I did not even want him for my husband. He was relieved. I knew giving birth and relinquishing the baby for adoption would be too much of an emotional investment. I knew it would certainly derail me.

Within a week my mom and I went together; first to the hospital for a scheduled abortion with general anesthetic. But the cost was prohibitive. My mother called our insurance company, their response was clear: “No! Abortion services are absolutely not covered under any policy.” The kind doctor gave my mother an address for an abortion clinic that took “walk-ins.” We went there that afternoon. We had no time to delay. I was with another teen girl and two women who had enough children already, thank you. After a brief informational meeting we were taken to individual examining rooms. I disrobed. I was cold. In came a doctor and two nurses. One nurse was there to hold my hand and the other to help with the abortion procedure. They told me what they were doing and why. They warned me of pain and pressure. I cried, to my utter surprise, I cried. The nurse holding my hand teared-up too. It was cold, it was sad, it was necessary. After the abortion our group of women reconvened in a recovery room furnished with lounge chairs and blankets. I reclined for a few moments and then went into the restroom to vomit. It was just me again, ready to go to college.

After graduating from college, earning my masters degree becoming a national board certified science teacher, marrying my husband (we met in college) who earned his Ph.D. and became a college professor, facing infertility we adopted our beautiful daughter (for the record the infertility was NOT a consequence of the abortion). Sometimes I regret not having the baby and not pursuing an adoptive family thirty years ago, but I know I would have become a different person. I made the right decision then. I have created an utterly proud, happy life with no regrets. No regrets.