The doctor pulled me out of my room to tell me that my stomach pain was a baby. At first, I didn't react. I just thanked her and walked back in... It was a dream to me. I was on Yaz and I took it every day... I was never expecting-- never thinking of the possibility-- that I was pregnant.

I told my boyfriend and discussed all of the options, even though we knew we couldn't parent the child. In the end, abortion was the right one for us. But it still didn't seem real yet... It wasn't until we both saw our baby on the ultrasound: five weeks and six days. We watched its heart beat for a bit and smiled. It was OUR baby. We were happy.

After seeing it, our decision became a little harder, despite us knowing it was right. We second guessed and grieved because we knew it's fate. I was scared to tell my mother at the time. I felt childish and stupid for not telling her, but I feared her reaction. She found out eventually when I was around seven weeks four days. I was called every name in the book and she hated me for my decision at first. But we called Planned Parenthood and set up an appointment for a medical abortion.

I had it done when I was eight weeks and three days along. I took first pill and spent the afternoon/night throwing up. I couldn't keep food or water down. And the next morning, I took the second and final pill without the anti-nausea medication or the codeine they provided me. I couldn't hold them down.

I went through severe cramps and vomiting for seven hours without pain medication, surviving through breathing techniques, squeezing my mother's hand (as much as she doesn't agree with abortion, she's still my mother and was there to support me. Thank you, mom. I love you.), and listening to her tell me I CAN do it and it'll end soon. We talked about my regrets and she sat through my apologies. Three hours later, my cramps pretty much stopped and I regained my ability to eat and drink. I was in the shower. And I passed my baby and saw it. They told me I could, but I probably wouldn't... But it fell onto my shower floor and I could just see the sac as what blood could run down the drain did. I had to pick it up and move it out of my shower. That memory will always be with me.

In an odd way, I'm on the fence about my feelings. One moment, I feel remorse and regret about the baby I could have had. And I wonder if maybe, just MAYBE, I could have had the strength to give my baby life, even if it wouldn't have been in mine. Maybe.. just MAYBE, I could have made myself strong enough to give it up for adoption. But I can't go back now... I'll never know if I could have.

And then, another moment, I feel okay and at peace. I know in my head that, although this wasn't the decision I necessarily wanted, it's the one that was best for the time and situation I'm in. I couldn't take care of this child financially or mentally. And I didn't have the strength or courage to give it up to another.

I constantly think about it. If it was going to be a boy or a girl... Who it'd look more like? What personality it would have? What would it have done with the life I would have given it?

In all my dreams, my baby was a beautiful baby boy. MY beautiful baby boy. I'll never forget you. You stole my heart the second I saw you. You're always on my mind.

RIP, James Anthony. <3