I wasn't seventeen when I got pregnant, but I was young and unmarried. Far from preaching abstinence only, my parents had gone out of their way to inform me at a very young age about "How babies are Made," including getting me a classic childrens' sex-ed book of that name in kindergarten. At family gatherings, my mother still fondly recalls the time I asked my father if he had "given a sperm to Mary". Mary was my half-sister's mother.
When I was fourteen, my father and I had a frank conversation in our purple station wagon about homosexuality. It went sort of like this: My dad: Hey, just so you know, if you're a lesbian, that would be okay. Me: Thanks. I don't think I am. But if that changes, I'll let you know. Basically, my parents were cool, liberal and open.
About ten years later, all that preparation, all that practice using the scientific names for genitalia, all flew out the window one deeply romantic night with my boyfriend. And suddenly....drumroll....I was pregnant.
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