Three years, two months, nine days

Two months into mine and my husband's relationship we found out we were pregnant. Too bad I was 17, in high school, and just got together with Mike, my husband (then boyfriend of course). Too bad I was too scared of what was actually going on to really think about what I was doing and how it would affect me down the line. My sister started getting pregnant when she was 16 and finally had a kid when she was 18. Either way she was a teen mom and a total disappointment to my mom. At this point in my life, I had 4 nieces and nephews and was totally in love with kids! It was also too bad that I wasn't even living with my mom back then. She had just gotten back together with her husband who abused me; emotionally and physically. Instead of being with my one and only parent that I actually knew at the time, I stayed with a family friend so that I wouldn't be abused anymore. Too bad the family friend and her husband had spent the past couple of years lecturing me about boys and what they really want and on top of it did not approve of my choice of boyfriend. So as you can see, naturally, my pregnancy would have been a bigger disappointment than if I would have flunked school and not been the great kid that I was until that moment.  It had been a huge mistake when we concieved and I honestly had no idea that I was pregnant. Then one day, I got the "flu" and strep throat at the same time which, made me vomit and pass out in the hall way at my house... and then realized that I missed my period. Mike bought me a pregnancy test and brought it to me at the house I was staying at. Lucky for us, no one was home but us. I went to the bathroom, studied the instructions on the box and went to town. I left it in the bathroom when I was done and waited for the results. Of course I was too scared to check the results so I stalled but I was soon forced to check it because some one had come home.Either way, it didn't change the results. It was positive. I refused to believe I was pregnant. I had all the signs, sure... morning sickness, cravings,  frequent bathroom visits to pee, etc. but when I saw the results, the first thing out of my mouth was "I peed on it wrong". Mike dismissed my stupidity and told me that he was ready to wear his war helmet and tell the parents and famiy friends. I thought he was just being nice and saying what he thought I wanted to hear so I did what I thought he wanted. I told him not to get his war helmet and that we would figure something out. After a couple of weeks and still no belief on my side that I was pregnant, I started to feel it. I don't know if its possible or if I was just going crazy but I was starting to understand. Mike told me shortly after that, when I was arguing with him about me being pregnant, how you can't really pee on it wrong and I was really pregnant.  We went to the Health Department and got a pregnancy test and made it official. I was pregnant and I had a few options. Giving it up was not one of them... no way could I do that. So it was either have it or have an abortion. When the lady told me I was pregnant, she said based on when I thought my last period was I was 8 weeks pregnant. I did what I thought Mike wanted and told him that I was getting an abortion. Didn't all guys want their girlfriends (or girls they got pregnant, for that matter) to give them that out?? Especially if you'd barely been together?? It only made sense. I stalled again and waited for about two weeks to make an appointment with Planned Parenthood to have an abortion. Meanwhile, I was eating millions and millions of pounds of pickles and smelling horrible smells, feeling my stomach grow and change and feel what was inside turning my life upside down while trying not to tell many people. At this point, I think only one person knew because I told them. Finally, December 3, I skipped school and was escorted to Planned Parenthood by Mike. We signed in, got checked out and when I had my ultrasound, the doctor told me that the Health Department lady was wrong... I was really 12 weeks along and barely able to get an abortion. What was supposed to have been a couple hours in Planned Parenthood turned into all day. I had to take a pill to pretty much kill the baby and then take valium before the operation and then get it taken it. Somewhere in the middle, Mike and I sat in the car and calculated when it had happened... September 10th was the day that we conceived. I don't remember much of the operation but I do remember that it was the worst cramping of my life and I do remember crying and I do remember how horrible I felt. After the operation, I sat in this little area where they give you snacks and try to get your blood pressure back up and make sure you are ok before they send you packing. It would have been fine if I wasn't sitting next to a girl who would not stop talking about how it was her second abortion and that she already had one kid and couldn't take any more. At this point, I realized I made the wrong decision. When I was finally ok to leave, Mike took me back to his house (after a brief stop at a store so I could get heating pads) and laid down with me while I cried my eyes out until I couldn't feel anymore. I'm not sure when he told me that he wished I hadn't had the abortion... I think it was on the way home from Planned Parenthood. When I went back to school, I acted like nothing had happened. My friends that I didn't tell soon began to ask questions and figure out what was wrong with me... they guessed right finally and told me that they knew I was pregnant. Apparently, it isn't hard to tell someone is pregnant when they smell things you don't, get sick often in the mornings, and gain weight. And of course, devour the hell out of pickles. My best friends told me what I wanted to hear... that it was the best choice I could have made and that everything was ok. I found out eventually that pretty much all of them lied to me... they were totally against abortion (as I was before it happened) but felt the need to say it behind my back instead of to me. For the next couple of years, I cried on the day that I was due and the day that I had the abortion. It was a stress on my relationship because it was very often that I would randomly cry at night and tell Mike that he hated me and that he was too good for me and my dumb decisions. I had begun depo shots every three months from Planned Parenthood, which was always hard to go into, by the way. Two years ago, I made the decision to get off of depo. I knew it would take a little while to get pregnant again but my husband and I wanted it so I was going to leave it to fate. After months and months of no protection and no pregnancy, I started to wonder. I looked online and read a lot about depo and how it can take awhile for you to get your period back and get pregnant again. About a year ago, I stopped getting my period and thought I was pregnant. I took a test almost every week to see if it was positive. Everytime it was negative. A couple months later, I took a test again and it showed nothing at all, no positive, no negative, nothing. I thought it was just faulty and tried another one. Same thing. I tried another one. Same thing. And again and again and again. Finally, I made an appointment with a gynecologist and tried to figure out what was going on. My doctor told me that it sounded like I had PCOS... I got a second opinion and she also said PCOS. I feel so much like this is what I get. This is what I deserve for the choice that I made. I hope and pray everyday and every time I feel different at all that I am pregnant or will be. I am terrified of never getting pregnant again. I am sick of other people getting pregnant and I am sick of people asking me when we will have our kids. I am even more sick of people who are getting pregnant and getting abortions. I am such a hypocrite but I hate people telling me that they want to have abortions... I want to scream and yell and tell them to give me the chance that they were given. Our plan right now is to take Metformin and other drugs that aren't too severe for now to see if we can make it happen naturally. Then a year or two down the line, take it up a notch and so on and so forth until we get to the point where we have to adopt. This is the last thing that I want to do. I know its a great thing to do but I would die to see what our kids would look like and what they would become. Its been almost a year since I started Metformin and its given me my period back but has not gotten me pregnant yet. I keep trying to tell myself not to think about it or worry but I can't help it. I keep myself up at night thinking about it and beating myself up that I'm not trying harder. My baby would have been born June 20... Father's day, the day of my high school graduation and the week my grandparents, who still considered me innocent, would have traveled 3000 miles to visit. So, baby of mine, you would be three years, two months, and nine days old today if I would have thought about my decision before I did it and would have talked to Mike before hand instead of doing what I thought he wanted. I miss you and I hope you are ok, regardless of what I did to you. I did feel you, I did love you, I do love you and I will forever, unfortunately for me.