Where to start...I had a normal childhood - no abuse, no special requirements. Just normal. Happy.
When I was fourteen I got asked out by an older boy. I was very excited and said yes. When I was fifteen I got pregnant. I nearly fainted while on my work experience at the hospital and asked my mum if we could do the test. I did the test on Friday morning and got the results that evening when my mum was waiting for me yelling at me that I wasn't bringing a bastard into her house.
By the following Thursday I wasn't pregnant any more. I'd been 16 and a half to 17 weeks gone. I'd felt the baby fluttering.
I'd allowed others (my parents, my boyfriend) to make the decision for me. They all wanted the same thing so I went along with it. They must be right.
My single biggest regret.
I didn't stand up for myself or my child. A lesson I learned the hard way. That's why, each time I found I was pregnant with my two boys, I fought everyone like hell for them.
Even if that meant that everyone stopped talking to me. My parents, my boyfriend, some friends.
Before you start thinking I was irresponsible and that having babies at 18/20 is stupid. I was taking the pill, all three times. After my third pregnancy I refused the pill and the doctor gave me a coil. Much better. Fourteen years pregnancy free so far.
