By my mid-twenties, I had been dating a man for several years. I had been on the pill for five years, but I still got pregnant.

Our relationship was rocky at that point because he had recently been diagnosed with bipolar disorder but refused any medication or help. That meant he kept having manic episodes where he engaged in all kinds of destructive behaviors like quitting his jobs, getting involved with get-rich-quick schemes, bringing home new “friends” he had brought into these schemes, and disappearing for days at a time. I was working as a low-paid assistant at a school and needed a better job, so I was applying to grad schools and hoping to leave both my boyfriend and the area.

Ultimately, I decided to have an abortion, knowing I could not raise a baby as a single mother living on the pittance I made. It wouldn’t have been fair to the child or to myself. Between the time it takes to care for an infant and the difficult financial situation I would have found myself in, I would not have been able to go to grad school. I also know it would have destroyed my relationship with several of my immediate family members and, in my mid-twenties, I was not ready for that kind of confrontation or rejection.

It was not an easy decision, but I have never regretted it. Fortunately my insurance covered all but a $100 copay, which my mom gave me.