I always tried to make myself the easygoing guy, anyone could talk to, always smiling and capable of blending into the different groups around me. I wanted connection — friends, a girlfriend, people to see the “me” I didn’t think anyone did. Three high schools later, she finally saw me. I continued on in the relationship despite signs to turn around. We were together for two years. Finally out of high school and free to start our lives. Young and trying to figure life out, we talked about marriage and quickly moved in together. We were playing house.

Two months into trade school, I got a text:
“I’m late. I might be pregnant.”

On my way home, I stopped and picked up a box of pregnancy tests and waited at home in a hurricane of emotion. I’d always wanted to be a dad, even if I had no idea how to be one.

THE TEST WAS POSITIVE . . .

We started calling and driving around, looking for a clinic to get a blood test to confirm the pregnancy. But an actual hurricane was coming through town, and everything was closed. We sat in my car, searching and calling for clinics, when she looked up and said, “I have an appointment for next week.” I asked, “For the test?”  She replied, “No. For an abortion.”

I WAS DEVASTATED.

We hadn’t talked about it. We hadn’t processed it, and suddenly it was decided.

I fell silent for a few minutes. I didn’t know what even to say. The only road forward I knew was: “Her body, her choice.” I thought being a good man meant supporting her decision. So, I kept quiet and took care of her. The following week I called out of work to take her to the appointment. But the next day, I had to go back to work as if nothing happened.

I felt my heart being ripped out of my chest, but I numbed it with justification that I wasn’t ready to be a dad.

Looking back now, I know I sinned, not by ending the life of our child with my own hands but by listening to the world’s wisdom and failing to protect that life. I didn’t speak up, I didn’t lead, I didn’t stand between my child and death. That haunts me.