I’m 21 this year. I’ve been with my boyfriend since JC1. I was 19 when I got pregnant. I chose to go for an abortion.
I never told him about the baby or the abortion. I knew he would have wanted me to keep it. He was that kind of guy who would have done the right thing and taken responsibility.
I wanted the baby too, but it was bad timing. He was in NS, due to start school in NUS, and I was already in NUS at the time.
I made the decision to abort even though every fiber of my being told me not to. I paid a taxi driver $80 for his time and to make sure that I got home safe after the procedure.
Every year, on the 14th of August, today, I feel guilt and sadness. The kind that feels overwhelming that I find it hard to get through my day.
Today, two years ago, was the day I got my abortion. I never knew my baby’s gender, but I chose Sam for the name itself was ambiguous.
I miss you so much, Sam, I’m so, so sorry. Not here, but loved and remembered all the same for the rest of my life.