In November of 2009, my boyfriend passed away suddenly due to cardiac arrest. He was 27 and I was 28. A month later, I found out that I was pregnant. My first thought was that I would have to terminate the pregnancy. Actually, my first through three billion thoughts was that I had to get an abortion. I remember laughing hysterically, thinking, “How could it get any worse? I’m going to have to get an abortion.”

I never wanted kids. I was never a kid or baby person and the last thing I wanted was to give birth to a child I couldn’t care for. The thought of doing it alone seemed impossible – physically, emotionally and financially. A friend of mine referred me to Pregnancy Center North (PCN) because I had absolutely no idea what to do.

In my 28 years of life, I had never encountered what happens after you see the positive test result. I spent the first 3 days of knowing I was pregnant devastatingly ill from morning sickness and grief. On the third day I went to PCN. I walked in expecting information on terminating the pregnancy, or possibly having the procedure right then. I did not consider keeping the baby, or even giving it up for adoption. I was so sad, scared and confused that I don’t really remember much from my visit except receiving encouragement to keep the baby. I felt that telling anyone that I was pregnant would lead to negative reactions. It shocked me that I wasn’t told how irresponsible I had been, or that I was going to ruin both of our lives if I actually went through with the pregnancy, especially since I felt like I had done something wrong, something for which I should have been ashamed.

They gave me a little pin of tiny baby feet, which I still have. I kept the pin in my car throughout my pregnancy, next to my boyfriend’s prayer card from his funeral. I couldn’t stop thinking about the size of the little thing growing inside of me. How could I kill something that already had feet? And tiny little toes. I left still set on having an abortion, but my visit to PCN planted a seed that maybe termination wasn’t my only option.

I watched the movie Juno that night and fell asleep thinking that even if I couldn’t take care of the child, I could still go through with the pregnancy and give him up for adoption. Even at that time I knew I was carrying a boy. I woke up the next morning feeling better physically and came to the conclusion that my body was completely and utterly against terminating the pregnancy. It was only out of fear that I wanted an abortion, and because of the stigma of single mothers and fatherless children, which was and always will be in the back of my mind.

I tried to warm to the idea of adoption, but it seemed like such a cruel thing to do to my boyfriend’s family. How could I make them watch me waddle around, knowing that the last part of their son, brother, or nephew was in there and would be turned over to complete strangers? I also, deep down, didn’t want to give up what I knew was my own flesh and blood, and my boyfriend’s baby.

In the end, I chose to keep him. It took a total of seven days for me to decide to keep him. He has been a constant source of inspiration and motivation for me. No matter how down I have felt or feel, Tommy is always there. There is no “I can’t do it,” or “I’m not getting out of bed today.” He is so sweet and happy. He started crawling at five months old and by six months he could climb all the way up the stairs on his own. At nine months he was walking AND running. By one year old, he could say over 20 words. He is now two years old and has a vocabulary of over 400 words. His doctor told me that he is going to make us all famous someday. He is gifted emotionally, physically and vocally. He is advanced in everything – except potty training!

If I had walked into PCN and been handed an abortion on the spot, I would have made the biggest mistake of my life. He is such a blessing, and I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. He has helped to heal a lot of broken hearts and I am grateful every day that I chose to follow my heart.