I don't know where to start with this story. I would just like to say that condoms are not as helpful as one might think.

I got pregnant in the beginning of March right when I left a year and a half long treatment for anorexia. I don't say that to get sympathy, but only to say that my recovery is fresh and was very fresh still, being pregnant was not in the best interest of my health or well-being. The man who I slept with was also a drug dealer, which complicated matters of my safety and the baby's safety.

Within two hours of finding out I was pregnant, I already had a date scheduled for my abortion. I moved quickly, panicked and almost in a daze. My whole life had done a 180 in a matter of minutes. I was scared, ashamed, I felt guilty and foolish. I made a grown up decision and I needed to deal with the consequences.

Two weeks later, my mom, my best friend and I went to the clinic early in the morning to prep for the procedure. After doing the ultrasound we realized I was not far along enough for the surgical procedure and would have to do the medical one instead. Meaning that I would have a forced miscarriage in my home rather than in the clinic.

I was shocked and terrified. I didn't plan on having to do this, all the processing I had done with my therapist did not prepare me for what I actually went through. We had about a 15 minute class on how to insert the pills and what to expect. Sheets were given out and the medicine was passed out in a very cold, matter-of-fact way. There was no sympathy, compassion or understanding from the staff... just shipping us out of there with a little information and a lot of fear.

What I experienced that night can only be described as hell. The cramps were worse than I knew were possible-- I was sweating, sobbing, and screaming. My mom had no idea what to do, all I wanted was a morphine drip to stop the pain. Three hours later I passed the pregnancy in the toilet. I looked down and there it was.

At the time, I didn't think it really affected me. But now I have crippling depression, overwhelming anxiety and a fear of the nighttime. I can't fall asleep without crying, hyperventilating and reliving my whole experience again.

I know I made the right choice, but why does it have to be so hard to get over?