I’m writing this for my own closure.

I found this site before I aborted my baby. I read a couple of things on here, but I didn’t want to read a lot. I knew what I had to do and it was to get rid of this baby in my stomach. I was in denial for so long. I didn’t want to believe I was pregnant. I always had this small feeling in my head that hell, I could never get pregnant. My boyfriend and I have been dating for almost a year, we never had protected sex. I was on birth control for a couple of months but stopped for a really dumb reason. I never had a ride to go up to Planned Parenthood to refill my BC. My last period was November 6th. When December came rolling around and I still had no period, I started to go out of control. I thought maybe the more pills I ate, the more alcohol I consumed, the less likely I would be pregnant. I was immature. I don’t know why I thought I could just kill something that was meant to be growing inside me. My boyfriend and I both knew I was pregnant. We talked about it sometimes, but it was never a major concern. Until the beginning of January. I stopped drinking on December 30th. I started to feel love for this child. I started eating healthy and stopped smoking. I was constantly researching about FAS, it was constantly crossing my mind what a beautiful baby we could have had. But I messed up. I poisoned the most precious thing ever given to me. I did not believe in God until this baby started affecting me. The first 3 months of being pregnant are the most important, and those were the months I did the most damage. I did drugs, I drank. I ate barely enough to support my own body, let alone a growing baby. I started staying in my house, hating myself more and more every day. I’ve always self-injured, but it started to spiral out of control. I would hurt myself. I wanted to keep this baby, but it wouldn’t have been healthy. I know if I had stepped up and taken responsibility for this child, my boyfriend and I would be happily planning for our baby to come into this world.

Now all I do is write notes to my little baby. I believe she was a girl, you know, motherly instinct. I pray for her night after night. I cry every day, wishing that a healthy baby was still in my belly. When I do have kids, I wish they would be half as wonderful as my little girl would have been.