I had just turned sixteen and was living with my maternal grandmother. My parents were getting a divorce and I was there to help with my mother's stress. She didn't need more stress, but I was about to give it to her.

I had met a boy at the mall, and he had come over and against my grandmother's permission I let him in, and he got me on the floor and he did the act. It all happened fast, like in three or four minutes, and he left.

I was left pregnant. I went home to my mom because my grandmother couldn't trust me. I was grounded and in this alternate school program for pregnant teenagers, and I never once, not for one minute or second, ever considered giving my baby up. The pressure on me came from everywhere, my teachers, the counselors, everyone except my mother.

The baby came home with me and I had to take care of the baby, that was my mom's condition. Like a puppy you bring home if you bring a baby home you take care of it. I breast fed, and after I worked out all the kinks I liked it, actually more than liked it, it was my quiet time with her.

In spite of the stress and the pressure and the work and all the stigma I still grew up and became a working adult. I am just different in that I am a 25 year old with an eight year old. And yes she calls me mommy in public and I love to hear it. I am her mommy.