I have had two abortions, one at 24 and the other at 26. Both times I was using contraception, the first time condoms, the second the contraceptive patch. Both times I fell pregnant with the same man who was my long term boyfriend and who also could've probably provided for me and a baby financially. So, why did I have an abortion not just once, but twice? Well I just didn't feel ready. Mentally or emotionally I wasn't prepared to give a child what I thought it needed, and I suspected my partner wasn't either. I felt certain of my decision the first time. The second time, not knowing if perhaps this would be my last chance to have a child, some doubt did creep in, but after about two days of serious consideration I knew that those factors did not override my feelings of not being mentally ready to take on such a massive commitment.

The first time I opted for what is called a 'medical' abortion, believing it was a less invasive procedure. Living in the UK, abortions are actually free but there is a waiting list and it can take up to a few weeks. If you want the termination done as soon as possible then you have to pay for it, so that's what I did the first time. On arriving at the clinic I wasn't particularly nervous as I thought the whole process would be easy, just popping a pill and feeling some discomfort and perhaps experience some bleeding. How wrong I was! There were some protesters outside with quite graphic posters chanting nasty messages at us as we went in. It really pissed me off to think that people could be so judgmental and self-righteous.

I took the pill, was advised to take some paracetamol, go home and let things take their course. After a few hours, a sudden crashing wave of cramps rushed through me and I felt what I can honestly only describe as the worst pain I've ever experienced. Then followed hours on the loo feeling like I'd pass out from how cold I felt and intense vomiting and diarrhea, screaming at my partner that I thought I might be dying. After a call to the clinic and being assured that I was just having a strong reaction to the pill but that I would be ok, I had no choice but to just ride out the excruciating pain until I was so exhausted I fell asleep. The experience traumatized me due to the physical pain I went through, but other than that I have no regrets.

With my second abortion, I chose to have the surgical option. All I remember is lying down in the theatre room one second and the next waking up in a wheelchair being pushed to a recovery room. Apart from feeling a little groggy I felt absolutely fine. I was taken to sit in a room of about 8 other girls until the anesthetic wore off. Some were crying which was disconcerting but I personally knew I'd made the right decision. Fast forward 5 years and I'm pregnant for the third time with the same man, but this time it was planned and we are both happy. I can honestly say neither me nor my partner ever felt moments of regret since the terminations. In fact there have been quite a few moments that have proved to me we made the right decision both times.

Now that I'm nearly 9 months gone I believe that in my twenties, neither I nor my relationship with my now fiancé was strong enough to withstand the emotional toll that pregnancy brings with it, let alone the responsibility of what having a child involves. I also think having those abortions has made this experience all the more special this time round and something I know we are both now completely ready to undertake.

This year I am the age my mother was when she had me. For some reason that feels significant. As I write this and my eyes unexpectedly well up, I realize that I have not reflected on my abortion since I had it, except to remind my partner what a shit feminist he can be.

I was never good at remembering when my period was due - I have a string of stained pants to prove it. But the month it happened I remember repeating to myself ‘it should’ve arrived by now surely?’ Maybe the moon’s orbit was out of sink or my cycle had twinned with my menopausal mother’s? As I held the test in my wet hand, wishing away the blue lines, I knew it was not a mistake. I had known already somehow. My body had already started to change, subtle but perceptible changes.

My partner was there when I came out of the toilet and hugged me as I curled up in bed. He told me repeatedly that he’d stand by my decision whatever it was. There was no doubt in my mind – I was getting an abortion. Okay, he said, opening his laptop, this is where you need to go. You’ve been here before, I said. Yes, he replied.

I was so angry and disappointed at him. Yes, I’d been careless too but it felt so wrong that after fathering a life once he had not taken more care for it to never happen again. Now, for the second time he was on the precipice of fatherhood yet he felt no emotional connection to the life we had both created. He felt a lot for me and was there for me, yes, but not for his child to be. He didn’t feel the fear, the life, the loss of another abortion. The inequality of it felt stark.

Between my initial appointment with the doctor and booking the procedure, a week passed. At the time, my relationship with my own mother was strained and I was in the process of taking difficult steps away from what she expected of me. I was trying to plough through the thorns and the fear to become my own person. I remember that for that week, my secret motherhood felt powerful and liberating, giving me the strength to stand up on my own two feet.

I was 7 weeks pregnant and decided to go for the surgical procedure, as it sounded like the most full proof. I remember it being described to me as a vacuum cleaner. Having watched too many documentaries about the 1 in so-many-people who despite anesthetics, feel and hear everything, I was terrified. I had nightmarish visions of the surgeons laughing at me and putting my body into ridiculous positions whilst I was asleep. I felt uncomfortable about leaving my unconscious body to them. I remember the face of the grey-haired aesthetician peering at me as I passed out. All I remember is waking up sobbing uncontrollably - apparently a side effect of anesthetics.

My decision to have an abortion didn’t feel difficult. I was disappointed in my partner and myself for not being more careful but I didn’t have to fight off guilt and my conscience was clear. Waking up to myself bawling uncontrollably was a shock. It felt like my subconscious was letting go of all the unsaid and unformed feelings for the life that had been inside me.

When we finally left, we were met outside by a lone-protestor with a placard. He was there to intimidate people like me on the way in and scar our consciences on the way out.

But we won’t be deterred, because we haven’t done anything wrong.

That’s what makes this space so important. It is a space where we are not alone, and will not be silenced or shamed for exercising our right to our womb.