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Survivor's Guilt
The following is an uncensored, entirely graphic explanation of my life.

When I was in the eighth grade, I had been dating a girl for almost a year. I had that middle school “oh this is love” mindset. It is a naive, childish, and ignorant mindset that I fear for the new generation of children.

I didn’t know what sex was or was not. This may be the fault of an overbearing mother that cut me off from all forms of information that even touched upon the word sex. This may be the fault of ineffective sex education from my school.  Maybe it did not go far enough, or it was taught too early in my life to have been taken seriously.

Sure, I knew where babies come from. But did I know exactly how I was making one? Absolutely not! I was ignorant, I was childish, and I was mistaken.

She told me she was pregnant, and the thoughts ran through my head. They were all the ones that you expect, such as “What am I going to do? My mom is going to kill me. Get rid of it. Get it f_ing out.”

I even hit the denial phase. “I never had sex with her.”  At the time, I was so against sex before marriage. I had let myself down. I googled on how you could get pregnant without sticking your penis into a vagina.  It’s possible, but not likely.

My memory was bad. I didn’t know what sex felt like. I’d never done it before! I thought for sure that I had never physically had intercourse with this girl. I said to her, to myself, “No, I didn’t have sex with you. It’s not mine.”  I made excuses for hours in the same way that any 8th grader would.

She told me she had an abortion. And at that moment, I felt relieved. “Good,” I said.  I didn’t have to take responsibility for my actions. It wasn’t until so many years later when I was older and more educated that I realized exactly what had happened.  

She got pregnant. It was by me. That was my child. I still don’t remember if we had intercourse, but that was irrelevant. I had gotten her pregnant. That was as much my responsibility as it was hers.

Each day, I’m haunted by the same thoughts and regrets. I deal with these day by day. I royally f__d up.  I made a massive mistake. And I never had to pay for it. A child paid for my mistake. And that is not fair.

Why is it that we live in a society where we tell women to be afraid, that having a baby is going to ruin everything? It certainly doesn’t have to.  All of the wonderful teen moms that I have met prove this to me. The teen moms make something out of nothing, and they give everything they have and sacrifice for their children. That’s incredible to me.  Women are not some kind of weak beings that are incapable of solving problems. Abortion tells us that they are.

That was my child. I know exactly what it was I did. My child paid for my mistake with its life.

I regret that I did not take responsibility, that my obliviousness caused the death of my child.  There wasn’t a way I could have stopped her other than preventing the situation in the first place. That hurts.  I am the one alone who must deal with that day by day.

Abortion ruined my relationships. It took me many years before I figured out my problem and addressed it. That hurt me; that changed me. That made me a cold, vile person. That ruined my ability to love.  Five years later, I still find myself learning how to love.

Abortion ruined my emotions. Abortion took my life and told me that I failed. I was angry. I was cold, and I took it out on myself with knives and lighters and pins and suffered through depression and self-harm. Why? Because of the abortion.

How much pain could I have prevented if I had realized what had happened immediately? Much of it. The naive and childish disbelief left me empty and in denial for the next five years. It hurt, but I didn’t realize why.

As Father’s Day passes this year, I thank my father and my heavenly Father for the love they gave me. I send my love towards heaven to the being I made, and the one that God made, and that died because of my sins.

Would my life have been different with a child? Hell, yes.

Would I have taken that over anything? Yes.

It’s about time we asked people to learn the meaning of responsibility. We need to stop pushing children under the rug and out through a tube.  We need to stop hiding the reality of the risks you take when you participate in sexual activities.

If anyone knows what taking responsibility means, it’s me. I’ve been through the worst kind of irresponsible situation. I f___d up and it cost a life.

Survivor’s guilt.

So, ask me why a man is talking about abortion. Ask me why a man is talking about a woman’s reproductive system. Why?

Because it hurts. It harms. I will fight against abortion, because this happened to me.


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