I hadn’t gotten my period for a month and I had felt low-grade nausea for weeks—I just knew. I was pregnant and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I didn’t feel comfortable telling my partner about it and I delayed taking a pregnancy test to find out for sure. Because here’s the thing: I was not feeling how I thought I would feel about being unexpectedly pregnant.

I had always thought that if I accidentally got pregnant, I would just get an abortion and that would be that. It seemed so logical. I have always been pro-choice and extremely thankful that I live in a time and place where I can get a safe, legal abortion from Planned Parenthood. I wasn’t at all prepared for the fact that I might want to have a baby if I became pregnant 

I put off truly finding out if I was pregnant for as long as I could, because I just didn’t want to face the possibility of an abortion. When I finally did go to my local family health clinic to address my constant nausea, I was told exactly what I already knew: I was pregnant.

When the doctor told me I was pregnant, I remember him asking me if this was “good news”—that question nearly stopped my heart.  My mind went blank. I had no idea how to answer that question. All I knew was I needed some time alone to think, so I mechanically answered, “yes.” I answered yes because I was in the sterile exam room that was covered by Medicaid health insurance, and I didn’t feel emotionally safe to explain how I really felt, which I still didn’t really understand anyway.

When I left the clinic, I sat in my car in silence and stillness. Then the emotions came flooding in. I couldn’t believe that I felt so much deep, indescribable love for this little being growing inside of me. It was so…scary. Even now I struggle to describe how it felt. It was love, though, a very specific kind of love. A kind of love I had never felt before and haven’t felt since. 

I had no idea what to make of it. And the thought of having to try to communicate all that I was feeling to my partner terrified me. I couldn’t drive home right away, so I called up one of my best girlfriends. She held space for me, told me how much she loved me, and reassured me that no matter what I decided to do, she would be there for me. She gave me just enough courage to drive home and face the uncomfortable situation ahead: telling my partner. 

My partner thought I was joking at first when I told him I was pregnant, but when he quickly realized I wasn’t, his face and energy made it very clear that he was absolutely not ready to be a father. In that moment, my heart broke in a way I cannot describe. I still can’t find a way to put that feeling into words.

He told me it wasn’t the right time. It wasn’t the right time because he hadn’t met my parents yet. It wasn’t the right time because we were living on different sides of the country. It wasn’t the right time because we had only been dating for about six months, neither of us really had a job, it was the summer of 2020, and everything in our lives seemed to be extremely unstable.   

Everything he said made perfect sense, and yet none of it seemed to matter to me at all. My heart wanted to continue the pregnancy, and that confused both of us. In fact, the one time we had discussed what we would do if I were to become accidentally pregnant, I had actually been the one adamant that abortion would be the right move.

My partner told me that ultimately it was my choice what to do and he would support me either way. I wish I could say that comforted me, but it didn’t. The only thing that would have comforted me was hearing that my partner wanted to continue the pregnancy, too. The only way I could feel right about continuing my pregnancy was if I knew both of us were ready. We both deserved that, and so did little being growing inside of me.   

In that moment, as painful as it was, I knew the most loving thing I could do for this baby was not have it.  I wish I could say knowing this made the days leading up to my abortion easier, but it didn’t. There was not a single day I felt at peace with my decision. I went back and forth about whether I could go through with getting an abortion. I knew it was going to hurt like nothing had ever hurt before. I knew this, because the love I was feeling for this little being was more than anything I had ever felt before. 

On a Friday afternoon, my partner dropped me off at Planned Parenthood. Since it was COVID, only the person getting the procedure was allowed in the clinic. For some reason, I was happy about this. I think it was because I knew my partner and I felt differently about the abortion. For him it was a relief, and for me it was the deepest of losses. I knew I needed a safe space to process my experience.

I walked into Planned Parenthood, looked around, and immediately felt safe. While I filled out some paperwork in the waiting room, I read something that stuck with me to this day: “most women feel relieved after an abortion, though some women feel distressing emotions such as regret and depression (just as some women feel these emotions after having a baby). If you feel these emotions, please reach out to the services available to you.” Even in something as mundane and routine as medical paperwork, Planned Parenthood made me feel seen, understood, and supported.

After what seemed like no time at all, a staff member with a kind and grounding voice called my name. Every part of my body and heart wanted to stay in that waiting room, but somehow—maybe because I felt so supported by the Planned Parenthood staff—I got up and walked to the procedure room. I had opted for the surgical abortion because I knew I needed to just get it done as quickly as possible.

My abortion at Planned Parenthood was simple and painless. And it was compassionate, nonjudgmental, and supportive—the best medical experience I have ever had. My doctor guided me through everything she was doing and continued to check in with me along the way. I was given sedatives and painkillers that made me feel physically comfortable and at ease. In about 10 minutes, the procedure was over. Both my doctor and nurse told me I did a good job during the procedure, which meant so much to me, since deciding to get an abortion was not an easy decision for me to make.   

When my partner came to pick me up from the clinic, I felt so at peace with my decision because I had so cared for at Planned Parenthood. But as the days went on, sadness began to creep back in. I fell into a depression, because I did not follow Planned Parenthood’s advice to reach out for emotional support. I didn’t reach out to anybody because I felt like there was something wrong with me for still feeling sad about making a decision I knew was the right one for me.

I didn’t want to talk about my abortion because I felt guilty for feeling so sad about it. I am passionately pro-choice and even in the moments when I wanted to continue my pregnancy, I knew getting an abortion was the right choice. I was worried sharing the emotional rollercoaster of my abortion experience would be misunderstood and misused by anti-abortion supporters to fuel their anti-abortion beliefs. I thought sharing that I felt so sad after getting my abortion could get in the way of other people getting the reproductive healthcare that they needed, and I could not allow that to happen.

Plus, whenever I would share my abortion story with someone, I never knew what type of response I would get. Sometimes the people who I thought would be most supportive just didn’t know how to be. Someone I considered one of my closest friends at the time had told me, “You obviously regret it,” which could not have been further from the truth. I knew that getting an abortion was the right choice, I was just really sad about it. My partner, in his relief, often told me to let the past be in the past and just move on. As much as I wanted to move on, I couldn’t.

It felt like the safest way to navigate my abortion experience was to pretend I was okay. But I was not okay. I wasn’t okay for about a year and a half. It wasn’t until I went to therapy and began sitting in the whole truth of my abortion story that healing could begin. I learned to honor the complexity of my experience, accept it without comparing it to the experiences of others, and release the definition of the “right way” to feel about my abortion from my mind.

Speaking with a supportive therapist empowered me to feel more comfortable with my abortion experience, regardless of how others might react to it. I even felt called to start sharing my experience. I began to understand one of the reasons I felt so alone and ashamed was because I didn’t know anybody who was going through what I was going through. I decided to use my podcast platform, Yoga IRL with Daniela Kent, to speak candidly about my abortion.

Though I was nervous to broadcast my abortion experience on the internet, I knew it was the right thing to do—just like I knew getting my abortion was the right thing to do. I recorded a podcast episode called My Loving Abortion Story, and within days of releasing the episode, listeners began reaching out. Some listeners told me their abortion experience was similar to mine and thanked me for being brave enough to share. Other listeners shared they were very touched by my story, even though abortion is not something they had personal experience with. Some listeners told me the episode moved to them to donate to Planned Parenthood.

Receiving all these responses was powerfully healing, and I learned that the more I own my story in its fullness and complexity, the easier the continued healing becomes. It’s been three years since my abortion, and I have come to see that part of my healing is being okay with still feeling sad about it. Because loving is about doing what’s right, and sometimes what’s right hurts.

Healing is about honoring that getting an abortion was the most heartbreaking choice I ever had to make, and it was also the most loving choice I have ever made. Healing is about integrating my abortion experience and continuing to live my life fully, which has shown up as leaving a relationship that wasn’t healthy for me or my partner, researching abortion stigma reduction communication as graduate student, and maybe most importantly, remaining committed to continuing a dialogue about abortion.

It has taken me a long time to get here, but I can now honestly say that I am grateful for my abortion experience. It taught me that even when love is hard, it is always the right choice.    

Hello, I’m Daniela

I’m am LA-based yoga nerd and Experienced Registered Yoga Teacher (E-RYT-500) who specializes in private instruction, injury prevention and management, and optimizing athletic performance. When I’m not re-reading Patañjali’s Yogasūtra on the beach, you can find me conducting qualitative reproductive justice research as a PhD student at the USC Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism, belting out Shakira at karaoke night, or loudly cheering on the Chargers and Lakers.