Why I Supported My Friend Through Her Abortion
And how I feel about my decision thirty years later
I was sitting in the high school library, completely engrossed in my biology textbook, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up and saw my friend Karen* wearing a pained expression. It was a mixture of shock, horror, and pure panic. She gripped my shoulder as if she was trying to steady herself.
“Karen, what is it?” I asked in a whisper. She had just celebrated her Sweet 16 so I thought she’d be on top of the world.
She sunk down in the seat beside me.
“Christy, I’m freaking out,” Karen said, her voice trembling. She shook her head. “This can’t be happening. It just can’t.”
I had never seen Karen so rattled. She was always such a chill girl — the epitome of the goofy friend who lived to put a smile on everyone else’s face.
I reached for her hand and squeezed it.
“It’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on,” I said.
“I’m… pregnant,” she said softly.
My eyes grew wide. As far as I’d known, she wasn’t sexually active.
“What? How? When?” I asked all in one breath.
