Lost Fatherhood
A Young Man's Story of Abortion
Story and art by Hector Gonzalez

When I was young, immigration took most of my family. In high school, my girlfriend's decision took the rest.

Growing up, I never had much of a family. I lived with my mother and my half sister in El Salvador until the age of six. After that, I met my father for the first time and he brought me to the United States. When I left El Salvador, I left all my relatives; I have not seen them since. My father and I never really got along, and when he got remarried, things between us got even worse. I wasn't a part of his family. By the time I was 15, everyone that I had ever called family, I had lost in some way or another.

In high school, I finally had a chance to build a family, one that would stay with me.

I met her in my junior year and was completely devoted. Our relationship lasted from April of my junior year all they way to June of my senior year. She was my high school sweetheart. We eventually started becoming sexually active. On a hot August night before my senior year, she asked me to come over to her house. It was close to 11:00 pm. I snuck out of my house, and I snuck into hers so that her parents wouldn't find out. We had sex that night without protection. We didn't have a condom and weren't too concerned about it.

We started our senior year shortly after that night. It started off as a good school year. About three weeks into my high school year, my girlfriend told me that her period was late and that her breasts felt hard. We went to the nearest pharmacy to get a pregnancy test and sure enough it was positive. After finding out the results, she put her head down on her kitchen table and started crying.

We went to Planned Parenthood to confirm it, and again the results were positive. We were both scared, but to her, the idea of having a child was not even a fathomable concept. I, on the other hand, would soon have a family member that would be mine, one that could never be taken away from me. I was 17.

I was attending a Christian church at the time. I brought up the subject to one of the youth leaders of my church and she gave me her word that she and the church would support the child and me. I was happy and excited.

When my girlfriend told me that her only option was abortion, I was torn. I did everything that I could to talk her out of it. But there was nothing that I could do to change her mind. What hurt me the most was that her biggest fear was not about motherhood, but telling her parents that she was pregnant. She was 18, so she could have an abortion without the consent of her parents. I had to accept her decision.

I believe a woman has to the right to decide whether or not she wants a fetus developing in her body, but my question is why the male doesn't have a voice in his possible fatherhood? To me, if the woman can abort a child without the consent of the father, and choose not to be a mother, then there should be nothing wrong with a father abandoning his children and choosing not to be a father. I returned with her to Planned Parenthood, and on that day I lost my right as a father to a being that I to helped create. She and I were still together for eight more months after the abortion. Throughout all that time, I would constantly have dreams of a baby girl. One that still stays with me is a dream about a baby girl who is in heaven, everything is white, the baby looks at me. I realize that she is my child. She gestures with her hand for me to come closer to her, but every step that I would took to get closer to her, the further away she went.

I hit a big stage of depression, and for a time, even felt suicidal. Eventually, I overcame my grief and went on with my life. I no longer talk to my ex-girlfriend for reasons that are not about her abortion, but I know that inside she is still hurt from aborting a child.

Every now and then I have conversations with people who tell me that when teenagers have children, their only option is abortion because they are not ready. I respond to them with my life as an example. My father was 15 and my mother was 16 when I was born, and although I have suffered many hardships growing up because of immature parents, I'm glad and thankful that my life was not denied.

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