It was the 1970’s and I was 16. I didn’t even know I was pregnant for a long time – despite being an educated, supposedly intelligent young women. I had no difficulty getting my GP to refer me to hospital for a termination – but once there, I was treated very poorly; brutally dry-shaved and told to shut-up, I didn’t deserve to be treated well. As I came round from the operation, I heard a woman crying ‘I want my baby, I want my baby’. I was in a normal gynaecological ward, full of women having miscarriages or other ops. As I woke up properly, I realised the woman crying for her baby was me. The nurse told me to shut up as I was upsetting everyone else.