I remember sitting on the BD's bed as he was downstairs talking to his parents about what had just happened at the clinic. I could hear the anger in there voices even though they were so far away. What were they saying? I don't know. I will never know. They never really talked much to me after that day. I was in the bedroom alone for hours. I couldn't go home. Tensions were high there as well and things needed to "cool down". I had never felt so alone and so unwanted by the people that were so close to me then. I wanted to be angry too. I wanted to cry just as much as anyone else did. But I couldn't. There was a life inside of me that I needed to take care of and protect. I sat numb on the bed. Sitting indian style I held my tiny bump of a stomach. At that point I could already feel tiny little flutters of her kicking, or maybe even punching me. It was one of the most surreal sensations I had ever felt. To know I was carrying a life that depended on me to survive was an overwhelming feeling. It was hard to swallow that I had just walked out of an abortion clinic. I almost robbed this poor innocent child's chance at life. How could I have done that? I don't think I would have been able to live with myself if I followed through with the abortion. Now that my child had a chance at living then I knew that I had to give it the best life possible. That means that I would have to be able to provide for it financially, emotionally, and physically. I was 22 years old at the time I found out I was pregnant. People tell me all the time that 22 is "not that young" or they had children "when I was a lot younger than you". Those people can seriously, and excuse my French, f*** off. You were not me nor will you ever be me. You have no idea what was even going on in my life prior to finding out I was pregnant. I was in no state of mind to even take care of myself nor take care of a child. Mentally, I was checked out. I was into the party scene. Going out, getting drunk, getting high, not returning homes for days, that was what my life consisted of. I struggled just to keep $10 in my account. I wasted my money on foolish things and I would never get that money back and I would be left with nothing to take care of my child. Depending on other people or even government aid would be something I would be ashamed of. I would never and could never ask people for help like that. This was my problem, not anyone else's. I didn't want to admit it but deep down, inside, I knew that adoption was the best option for me, for us. I knew that we could not keep it. We were not meant to be parents for this child. And even though it was a hard pill to swallow, I knew it was the right thing to do. The BD wanted to keep it. And to be honest, I don't think he wanted to keep the child because he loved it. He wanted to keep it out of selfishness. I remember I had mentioned that I thought it was a boy and from that moment on the BD became so protective of him and how dare "I give up his son". He had so much pride that he couldn't put aside for more than two seconds. All he did was think about himself and his feelings. Nothing else mattered to him. It led to so many arguments, too many too mention, but as the mother and the person carrying the child, it was ultimately my decision and my decision was made.