I don’t remember what symptom first caused me to take a pregnancy test, but when I saw the positive result on the stick, I remember not being surprised. Deep down I knew, I was about two or three weeks gone.
I was 16 and living on my own. I'd been going through a tough time, not getting along with my family. I'd been to-ing and fro-ing between my family home and girls' shelters before moving into my own bedsit.
I was in grade 11 and working part-time to support myself.
After I told my 15-year-old boyfriend I was pregnant, we didn’t speak of it again. I think we kind of went into denial. I told no one else other than my best friend. I remember she had already left school and was working as a trainee in a pharmacy. I didn’t know how to tell her so I just picked up a parenting magazine and went up to the counter.
She looked at me with a confused look on her face until it dawned on her. I was the one that was going to be a parent.
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Six months passed and the whole time I'd been working, going to school and riding my motorbike. I hid it from everyone.
I was terrified. I felt alone and didn’t know how to cope with the reality of it all.
I don’t know what scared me the most: that people might try to force me into a termination or that I might face the judgement of others.