I was 23 when I had my abortion. My Fiance and I had been together for 6 years and had a beautiful 3 year old son. We had moved in together for the second time, after I spent 2 years at home with my parents because of financial reasons. We were living in our new place for about a year when I found out I was pregnant.

I was with the man I thought I would marry and we talked about having a child. I got pregnant, he shied away. I considered the possibility of being a single mother, but knew I wasn't in a position to do that financially or otherwise. There were protesters outside when I went to have my abortion.

I am 61 years old and had an abortion when I was a young woman. It was a legal abortion, performed in a clinic, and there were no complications.

I was 20 and part of a fundamentalist Christian group that worked with underprivileged children in New York City. If I had told any of the leaders, I would have been sent back to my church and family in shame. That had happened to another young woman I knew – she was thrown out of the program, and sent back home – while the young man got a stern lecture but no consequences.

I had two abortions in my early twenties. One pregnancy resulted from a long-term relationship and birth control fail; one resulted from a fling and a lack of birth control. In both cases, the decision was right for me. I was a single mother, barely making ends meet, and I needed all of my energy and all of my income just to support the son I already had.

On New Year's Eve 2013 I found out I was pregnant. I knew I needed an abortion. The next day I was hit with all the emotions. I pictured what my life could be if I had this child. For a month, I went back and forth not knowing what to do. I was a mess. I read pregnancy books, I googled pictures of what the fetus looked like each week.