I was trying to do the right thing. I didn't want to be a burden to my family.  I didn't want to be a burden to the state. I wanted to be responsible. I was told by the Women's Feminist Center in Chico, California, referred to me by Planned Parenthood in the Los Angeles area, that they had counseling. I had told the receptionist at the Women's Feminist Center that I didn't know what I wanted to do. They lured me in with the strong assurance that they had counseling. 

There is so much more to this story! I actually need/want to write a book about my life story in this regard. My child died the day before Father's Day in 1978.  My own dad died this year, thirty-three years from the day that his grandson or granddaughter died the day before Father's Day in 1978. The day my father died was in the same year that my son or my daughter would be thirty-three years of age. My dad's heart stopped. My dad was as strong as an ox.  He was built like steel. Yes, he was eighty-seven years of age, but he wanted to live.  He was just beginning. He was just beginning to tell his story.  My dad died on the third weekend in January during the March for Life Campaigns in both Washington D.C. and San Francisco.