I had just turned 18 a month ago, I was 8 days or so late. When I was only 6 days late, I didn’t think much of it since I felt completely normal. I wrote in my journal about how much I craved motherhood, and how grateful I was for my future children. I had no idea how much my life would change. Two days later, my then boyfriend and I decided to go get a pregnancy test. I took the test in my boyfriend’s bathroom, we were both in a rush and our plan was for me to take the test, kiss each other goodbye, then go off to our part time summer jobs. When I saw the + sign, I was at a loss for words. I had no thoughts, I looked to my boyfriend for guidance in how to react but he was just as frozen as I was. Immediately, I went into his older sister’s room. He called her name and I put the test in front of her eyes. Her instant reaction was to grab my hand and bring me into the bathroom alone with her. The first thing she told me was that I would be okay with getting the abortion, that her friends had got them and I could get an appointment as soon as the upcoming Monday. She presented it to me like there was no other option than abortion. So did my friends. So did my therapist. They all (including his sister) knew my relationship with that boy was more than toxic, it was overwhelmingly unstable and no one wanted me to be stuck with him because of this baby….which they were all right. He ended up screaming at me and throwing a glass candle at me days after the abortion, when I was bleeding. My mom, later, told me she would have kicked me out if I had the baby. My boyfriend was the only person who weighed out all options with me, but we both agreed abortion was what had to happen. We cried for days. He laid on my stomach and told our little one how much we loved them and how sorry we were. We got a special teddy bear for me to have inside of the room with me, so that it could be our special bear. Our baby, him, and mine’s special bear. I took the pills. The pain of the contractions from my little baby that was just over five weeks old was agonizing, but the grief was worse. I cried every day, many, many times. I latched onto that bear for dear life. I cried at my job. I cried in his bed. I cried to his sisters. I cried to his mom. I didn’t stop crying. It’s only been three months, not even three yet, and I haven’t stopped crying. I named my baby Parker, the name just felt special and it felt so right. I got a tattoo for Parker, my angel baby in the sky, a pisces constellation tattoo since they would have been a pisces. I wake up in the middle of the night, swearing I hear Parker cry. If I had known how overwhelmingly unbearable this pain would feel, I don’t know if I could’ve done it. I miss my baby every single day, and I just hope one day I stop crying and missing him so much.