I’m 22. I’ve been pregnant 4 times. i only had two of them. I’ve lived through things people love to have opinions about, but don’t actually understand.
My first child I went through severe postpartum psychosis. It was terrifying. It didn’t feel like myself. And for her safety, I made the hardest decision I’ve ever made and let her go. That’s not something you just “move on” from. That stays with you. My second, I kept. And I didn’t go through that again. But that fear? It never fully left.
Last year in April, I had an abortion. I got on birth control after. It felt like something I handled, something I moved forward from. Then this year—April again—I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t cry. I just stared at the test. I showed my husband. And everything hit all at once but also… nothing did. I just felt stuck.
I went back and forth between adoption and abortion. My first instinct was abortion. But I felt this heavy sadness, this pressure. We had just gotten an eviction notice. I started looking into adoption and found myself being pulled toward it—not because it felt right, but because it felt like survival. Like maybe this baby could fix something for us.
And that didn’t sit right with me. I could not handle another pregnancy. Another C-section. The risk of postpartum depression… or worse, psychosis again. I know what that looks like. I know how real and dangerous it is. And I could not bring another child into that uncertainty and then the next day something else happened that broke me a little. I told my mom in confidence while i was crying. And she told my husband’s father. he told me he wanted me to keep it. kept telling me to keep it even prayed over me that i would keep it. Even though I’m the one living in this body. Even though I’m the one who would go through the pregnancy, the surgery, the risk. Even though I am already struggling to take care of the child I have. Everyone had an opinion. But none of them had to live my reality.
I ordered the pills. And I took them. My husband supported me through all of it no pressure, no judgment, just love. And I need to say this clearly: I do not regret my abortion. That doesn’t mean it was easy. That doesn’t mean there weren’t emotions, or moments that felt heavy. But I made the decision that was right for me, for my body, for my mental health, and for the reality of my life. But I chose what was right for me—my body, my mental health, and my life as it actually is, not how other people think it should be.
Please don’t let other people make this decision for you. Not family. Not pressure. Not fear. Especially if deep down, you already know your answer. Postpartum psychosis is real. It is serious. And I will never ignore that reality again.