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I was 17 when I got pregnant … month after my 16th birthday, actually. I had only been dating the birth father for a few weeks, but I had known him for a few years prior to our relationship. He was very into himself and his goals. Children were nowhere in his life plan. When I told him I was pregnant, I barely got out my sentence before the cut me off and I never heard from him again.

I lived in silent pain, swearing that I could be a good mother and go to college plus have a full time job and still have time to be with my friends. At 8 months pregnant I decided that I couldn't do all the things I wanted to. My Godparents were visiting from California and had expressed great interest in adopting my child, although they knew I had not even considered the option. I went to them and asked them to adopt my son. I didn't even consult my mother on the issue. I felt it was the right thing to do. I never had a second thought about it; never second-guessed my decision. I knew in my heart that it was the right thing to do.

We have an open adoption and I see Zachary at least once a year. With them in California it's a little harder to visit as often as we would like to. We mail pictures and tell stories. We feel we have an extra special family due to all the love we have surrounding this little boy. I still have no regrets and love him as much as I always have.

Zachary turned 5 in July and as I watched him at his birthday party when he was home I could only smile. Nothing I have ever done in my life has made me as happy as this. I gave something to someone they couldn't have otherwise had. I gave my Godparents a child, and I gave my child a wonderful life.