I had just finished my junior year in high school and broken up with my first serious boyfriend of two years when I began to date Adam. Only one year my senior, he was mature, smart, and good-looking. Although I liked him, I was still hurting from my failed relationship a month prior, and decided to throw myself into the arms of Adam.

Two months into our relationship, and many unprotected sex sessions later, Adam suspected I was pregnant. To put his mind at rest, I took a test on the morning of September 22nd, 2009. I was pregnant. I immediately called Adam to let him know what was happening, and the other end of the call was silent. He was away on a business trip, so I couldn't talk to him thoroughly. I was left alone with my thoughts swirling in my head of what the hell am I going to do.

I had always said I didn't want to have an abortion, and that giving the baby for adoption would be heart-breaking, so I assumed I would keep the baby, like it wasn't even a decision to be made. As soon as it happened to me, I had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. I had just started my senior year of high school, living at home with my mom and sister, and didn't get along with Adam's family. I didn't talk with my mom about the situation because two years earlier when my sister got pregnant at 18, my mom made her situation more stressful.

When Adam came home, we talked about this situation a lot. I was five weeks pregnant at the time, so I knew I had, at most, seven weeks to decided what I wanted to do, because I didn't want a dangerous abortion. Any time I told Adam I wanted to keep the baby, he would cry, claiming her had just graduated high school and wasn't prepared. We both agreed that we wouldn't put the baby up for adoption because we both knew it would extremely difficult, and weren't able to handle that situation.

Because my due date was May 27th, 2010, the same day as my high school graduation, I knew continuing the pregnancy would leave room for much ridicule. I would have to walk through my high school pregnant, either have a nursing baby at the time of graduation, or be full term, and for the last month of school, where my important exams are, I would have a new born baby. I would have to put my dreams of becoming a journalist on hold to mother the baby. I would put an even greater financial strain on my single, working, and middle-low class mother, and I would have to maintain a romantic, or at least civil, relationship with Adam, my boyfriend of only two months.

For future reference, I never knew for sure, but I felt that the baby was a boy, and I wanted to name him Braxton, Bee for short.

I remember one night in particular when I was about 10 weeks pregnant, and I was beginning to show. I walked to my car and actually felt pregnant. I drove all the way home in tears. I sat in my car alone and crying, not wanting to go inside my house. I was holding my stomach, and I promised that I would never let anything bad happen to Braxton. I would never let anyone hurt him. Nothing would ever happen to him; I would make sure of it. I vowed to keep him, raise him myself, and be the best mom an 18 year old (at the time he was due) could possibly be.

A few days later, I made an appointment for a consultation for an abortion.

I brought my friend with me, Kate. I had known her for 15 years, since we were two, and have been best friends ever since. We drove there together, and I was taken in for a blood test and an ultrasound. The woman, who was very masculine with short hair, glasses, and a very un-curvy body, tried to point the screen away from me, but I looked anyways. There, on that little screen, was my baby boy. He was laying on his back, legs up in the air on the right side, and he was moving his arm back and forth, as if he were waving at me. I was told I was almost 12 weeks pregnant, and I booked an abortion for a week later, on November 6th, 2009.

When leaving the doctor's office, Kate turns to me and the first thing she says is, "So. Your doctor: lesbian or not a lesbian?" Kate: my comic relief.

Adam didn't even bother to book the day of work for the abortion. He was able to come with me to the abortion, but couldn't stay for my recovery. I knew as soon as I took the pills in the morning that I was given to begin to process, that there was no turning back. I took them slowly, but I took them. Adam drove me to the appointment in the morning for 9am. He wasn't allowed in the room with me, so I had to go alone. I undressed, and was put in the chair. I was alone in the room with one nurse, and she was so wonderful. She rubbed a heating pad on my lower stomach while the procedure was happening. I tried to distract myself with music, but the speakers were falling out of my ears, so I could hear the loud sound. I kept my eyes closed until I thought it was over, and when I opened my eyes, I saw a large container filled with a red substance. I shut them quickly.

In recovery, I was happy that another girl was crying and in need of attention because I just wanted to be left alone. Adam drove me home, and then left me there alone. I think I cried, but I mostly slept. In the evening, my best friends since we were little, Kate, Olivia, and Lisa came over with my favorite ice cream and "I love you" balloons. I felt relieved when they came over. We went out for Chinese food up the street, and then watched Agent Cody Banks on TV. When they went home, Adam came over. The day was finally done.

The next year was a roller coaster.

I broke up with Adam after fighting with him constantly about the baby. I began dating a 23-year old, who I am still dating. I went on vacation to Hawaii with my family. I graduated high school. I got a new job. My 23-year old boyfriend moved in with me and my family. I started college. I grew up.

On November 6th, 2010, the one year anniversary, I had what I called "Bee Day". Bee Day is a day in which I celebrate the memory of my child. I honor him with doing something new every year on this day, because I gave him up so I could have a better life. This year, I got a tattoo that says, Happy "Bee" Day. / *The Chiron symbol for recovery* / 11 . 06 . 09.

I still cry for Braxton. I have never gone through something so hard in my short 18 years. I wish I could explain my reasoning to him. But I was being completely honest with myself. A year and a half later, I can honestly say I regret my decision with everything I am. I regret giving up my baby. I regret letting Adam dictate my decision. I regret my life without Bee.

If I could have anything, I would go back to before Adam, and try to rebuild my relationship with my first serious boyfriend, before it got complicated. But even better, I would rather have my baby, without any Adam involved, so I could keep my promise that I made to Braxton that one night in my car. In a way, I kept it, because this way, nothing bad could ever happen to him.

Nothing will ever happen to him.