I never appreciated the significance of a woman’s monthly period until my sophomore year of high school when my girlfriend, Kristen, missed hers for the first time. Two months previously, we fooled around in the passenger seat of her Isuzu I-Mark. It was my first time. During the act, I was concerned about pregnancy, but didn’t really give it much thought. My only real sex education was a special church service when I was 13 where the message was chastity. The facts about sex were backed up with Bible verses and fear tactics. My church was successful at scaring me, but realistically, there weren’t a lot of opportunities to have sex at age 13, so more than anything, it sparked a certain amount of curiosity. The other time I was taught about sex was at my high school in a Life Management class. We watched a video where a woman explained why we shouldn’t have sex until marriage. The crux of her argument was that contraception doesn’t work anyway. My parents had skittishly tried to give me the birds and the bees speech once or twice, but I was more entertained by their discomfort attempting to talk to me about it than I was informed. I’d heard sounds coming out of their bedroom dozens of times and had a pretty good idea what was going on. I just tried not to think about it.
“Have you ever missed your period before?” I asked Kristen, hoping there was some kind of irregularity.
“No. I always start on the same day."
“The same day? Are you sure? How do you know?”
Kristen showed me her calender and flipped back the months. She marked when she got her period and when she expected her next one on every single month.
“Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?”
“Yes. I’ve taken two, actually.”
“What were the results?”
“The store bought one was positive. The one I took at the clinic was negative.”
“That’s good, right?”
“The clinic told me the store bought tests are more accurate and the ones the clinic gives won’t show a positive until around three months.”
“So at three months, we’ll know for sure?”
“Ben. I’m pregnant. I haven’t had a period in two months and my pregnancy test results say I’m going to have a baby.”
I was in disbelief. I didn’t know what to do. I was 16 years old. I was a sophomore in high school. I was from a religious upbringing that frowned upon sex before marriage and viewed abortions as infant murder. I’d never had a job in my life. I didn’t even make allowance money.
This was even more awkward for Kristen. She was 19 years old and starting her first year of college soon. We both knew she was too old for me. We both knew we were just fooling around, but now we had some very serious issues to deal with. Were we going to have a baby and get married? Considering my age, would it even be legal? And how would we support our child? I was in high school and she worked at a bagel shop.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to have an abortion.”
“Aren’t they expensive?”
“$450.00"
“Do you have that much money?”
“I have some bonds my grandmother left me in her will. Will you walk with me to the bank? I’m going to cash them.”
We walked to the bank holding hands, but not speaking. It was as if the emotions we were experiencing had created a traffic jam and all we were experiencing on our walk was an eery absence of feeling. I wanted to be in love with Kristen. I wanted her to be in love with me. I wanted to be old enough to be responsible and take care of her, comfort her, do something, but I couldn’t even chip in on her abortion. I was worse than useless.
At the bank, we found out her bonds weren’t mature and if we cashed all of them early, she’d have exactly $400, so we still had to raise another $50. Since I had nothing of value, we ended up pawning her stereo and CD’s to get the rest of the money. She called the abortion clinic and scheduled an appointment. They made her wait a month so they could take one more test before performing the procedure. We had one month to think about it. One month to let it stew.
Over the next month, we did our best to keep this a secret. We spent every possible moment together. I didn’t have a car, so she’d pick me up after school every day and we’d sneak off somewhere private and make love without any fear of pregnancy. Our feelings grew from those of a casual fling to being in love. And as the month deadline drew near, we began to discuss whether or not we were making the right decision. Maybe we could work things out somehow? I could drop out of school and get a job at McDonald's or Taco Bell and try to work my way up. She was already working at a bagel shop and would just have to put her plans to start college in the fall on hold. We could trade off. One would work and the other would stay home with our baby.
We’d make plans about marriage and raising a family together and then we’d change our minds. Then we’d change them back. This went back and forth. Neither of us really knew what to do. It all seemed so surreal. Suddenly, the dreaded date was two days away and I still had no idea what I was going to do. When Kristen wasn’t around, I had no one I could talk to. I felt so isolated and ashamed. I was terrified my parents would find out and try to prevent me from seeing Kristen again. That night, I stayed up and prayed to God to give me an answer. I begged God to give me guidance. Suddenly, I felt a warm, calming sensation. Having a baby isn’t a bad thing. I thought to myself. Sure, things are going to be difficult, but we’re just going to have to find a way to make things work. Our families will be upset at first, but they’ll eventually embrace our child.
I stayed up all night thinking about how much I loved that woman. I thought about how sorry I was that I’d been no help. I thought about how God would smile on us in some way by doing the right thing and keeping our baby. Early in the morning, I called Kristen and didn’t get an answer. I left her several messages throughout the day wondering why she wasn’t answering the phone. She wasn’t at work and I couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d be. I waited all day by the phone practicing my speech about how much I loved her. How much I loved our baby. And how I would man up and find a way to take care of everything. I knew I was only 16, but it was time for me to grow up fast.
Finally around 4:30 PM, Kristen called me. She sounded awful. Really awful.
“I did it, Ben. I had the abortion.”
“What?!! I thought we still had another day.”
“I gave you the wrong day. I didn’t want you to be there. I’m sorry.”
“Are you OK?”
“I feel awful. They said it would feel like a heavy period, but it hurts really bad.”
“Ben, I’m really sorry. But we need to break up. This never should have happened. You’re a great guy and I know you’ll find the right woman some day, but I’m not her. I’m moving to Gainesville next week and just want to say goodbye.”
I don’t know if the abortion was the right thing to do. It certainly made our lives a lot less complicated. I don’t know if it was the wrong thing to do. I don’t believe me and Kristen are infant murderers. I just know that for one moment, I loved a woman and my unborn child more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life, but in the next instant, none of it was real.
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