Pregnant at 16: Getting Pregnant After My First Time, and How Abortion Saved My Life

Author: Sofia Pantazi, July 7, 2025 | Source: Anonymous

At 50, Elisa Veeckens shares her powerful story—one of teenage passion, loss, survival, and a life-saving choice. For her, abortion was not the tragic end of something precious. It was the beginning of reclaiming her future.

The pro-choice March for Women’s Lives rally in Washington, D.C., 1992. Photo: Marcy Nighswander

Teenage Years

“In my teenage years, I was rebellious, full of dreams, driven by passion, and always in the mood for a good party. Born in 1975 and raised in a small, religious fishing town near Leiden, The Netherlands, I came of age in the 1980s: a time of wild freedom, rock music, and unspoken rules.

Like many teens, I dabbled in things I probably shouldn’t have: drugs, heavy drinking, sneaking out. My brothers loved a good party, and they’d often take me along. At first, I had to sneak out. But eventually, my parents gave in, especially my mother, who figured it was better if my brothers kept an eye on me.

My mother was deeply religious and couldn’t stand the fact that I had become “the wild daughter.” At the time, I didn’t care. I thought religion, or at least the church, was a handful of judgmental nonsense. Our town was suffocating. Full of taboo, gossip, and fear of standing out. The more pressure my mother applied, the more I rebelled.

I was a decent student. I loved arts and history, anything creative. I didn’t care much for sports, and math terrified me. No wonder my son hates math now; he got it from me. Even my mother, for all her preaching, couldn’t do numbers. But she could talk about the Lord like no other.”

Meeting the Boyfriend

“We went to the same school. He was a year older than me. Mixed-race, half black and half white. He was charming. His parents were lovely. He asked me out, and things just… started rolling.

He was my first kiss, my first boyfriend. I won’t share his real name, but for this article, let’s call him Charles. Even that name suits him, stylish, confident, always switching up his look. Each week came with a new outfit, a new vibe. I guess you could call it passion at first sight. Not love… no, not yet. Just that intense teenage hormone storm.

Unfortunately, the charm didn’t last long. He turned toxic. What started as a love story became a cycle of possessiveness, emotional pressure, and eventually, stalking.

But I suppose that’s part of the next chapter, isn’t it?”

The First Time

“It happened at his house. We didn’t plan it. I didn’t go there thinking, Today I’ll lose my virginity.

We were in his bedroom - small, messy, with Rolling Stones posters on the wall and clothes on the floor. A typical teenage boy’s space. We were kissing. He touched me in places I’d never been touched. It felt good. I was curious.

I honestly can’t remember if I was his first girlfriend. That part of my memory is buried so deep that maybe I don’t want to remember.

One thing led to another. He took off my bra - I had quite large breasts for my age, and I could tell he liked that. Then it happened. He was inside. We used a condom, but I wasn’t on the pill. And in the middle of that awkward, sweaty, confusing mess of hormones and inexperience… the condom broke.

I didn’t get my period afterwards.”

Abortion

“I never told my parents. They wouldn’t have understood. Based on how they were raised, I didn’t blame them - and I still don’t. I took a pregnancy test. Positive.

I biked to the nearest hospital to confirm it, and there it was: “We must tell you — you are pregnant.” My heart dropped to my knees.

That was the only time I ever slept with him. It was during vacation, and we weren’t seeing each other for a few weeks. Just that one night. One fatal night. Fatal attraction? Maybe.

I knew immediately: I need this to be gone.

I biked straight to my best friend’s house. Her mom was more modern, the kind of woman you could talk to about real things. She agreed to come with me for the abortion.Then I biked to my boyfriend’s house. I was terrified to tell him. He said he agreed with the decision — but refused to come with me. Too young, too scared.

So I went without him.”

Aftermath

“A few days after the abortion, I felt numb. Not from regret, but from shock. From how young I was, and how little I could comprehend what had just happened. I felt shame. Deep, heavy shame. But also, an overwhelming sense of relief. I didn’t talk about it to anyone. I didn’t need to. I just kept going.

My boyfriend and I broke up. I ended it. Things had become too toxic. He hadn’t gone through what I had. Instead of supporting me, he began stalking me. Following me. Not out of love or concern, but to throw blame.

He accused me of lying, of sleeping with other people. I hadn’t. One day, he followed me home. Yelled insults in the street. Showed up outside my bedroom window. My two brothers went out and warned him: Leave her alone, or else.

I never saw him again. He switched schools.”

Thoughts on Abortion: Why It Must Be Accessible to Everyone

“I’ve lived a whole life since then. I have children. I have peace. And I have no doubt, abortion saved my life.

I was 16. I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I wasn’t ready to raise a child, especially not with someone who turned abusive. I wasn’t irresponsible. I was simply young. Curious. Normal.

And when everything changed, I needed care, not judgment.

I’m forever grateful I had access to an abortion. And I believe, deeply and personally, that every girl, every woman, every person who becomes pregnant deserves that same right.

Abortion isn’t shameful. What’s shameful is denying someone a safe option and forcing them into a life they didn’t choose. I want girls who are 16 today, younger or older, to have what I had: a way out, a second chance, and the power to make their own decisions.

Not every story has to end in tragedy. Mine didn’t. Mine is a survival story. And I will never stop speaking up for the right to choose.”