when i was 21 i had my first abortion. i was madly in love with the guy, but he wasn't reliable and already had two kids he didn't support. i was unemployed and partying my nights away in my first apartment.

i was 17 and blinded by love. i had always thought i would remain a virgin until marriage but i fell in love my senior year of high school and all my plans and principles flew out the window.

i was a 19-year-old sophomore dating another 19-year-old sophomore. i had a birth-control pill prescription but screwed up using it and got pregnant. it was 1983, and we were in school in atlanta, ga.

there was a drugstore on the drag that my roommate and i used for everything, but no way i was getting a pregnancy test there. what if i saw a sorority sister or classmate?

i lost track of the abortions i had — at least five — but thank the goddess i could get safe, legal and affordable abortions when i needed them. i realize in retrospect that while i thought of myself as a strong woman in my 20s and early 30s, i was really a puppet to men who didn't value me as a person but just someone to get them laid.

my story is not the norm. it happened in december, 2013. i was thirty, engaged to be married, had a well-paying job and a lovely house with plenty of privacy in a nice neighborhood. for all intents and purposes, this time in my life should be when i have children. but that life is not what i want.