It was a month after I tried to commit suicide that I was raped. While driving myself home after the rape, I could feel what he had left behind in me. the only idea that was going through my mind was how could I forget about it and go to work the next day.

I was 15 when I got pregnant. My boyfriend at the time and I weren't using any form of birth control -- he was just pulling out. The one time he didn't pull out was the time I got pregnant.

I was 19 and in college and I had to make the biggest decision of my life. To have a baby whose father was a drug user and a drinker. Who had already cheated on me and then dumped me.

I got pregnant a year and a half ago, when I was 22, and you know what, I wanted to have it. I wanted to have it but the “father” didn’t. He went through something of a four stage reaction.

I've had two abortions in my life, both with the same partner, my now-husband. Sometimes that feels ironic, and strangely lucky at the same time.

I was 19 when Emma was born. I had no doubt at that point that abortion was out of the question. Even when it was suggested by many people very close to me.