It was Friday morning, first period, and I was in my science class, just like a typical kid in a typical high-school science room.
I just had this feeling that something was going on inside me. A few weeks later, I took a home pregnancy test, and it showed a very faint pink line.
I yelled for my mom, and later that day, we were at the doctor's office.
I tried to eat well, although I also used being pregnant as an excuse to treat myself to lots of fast food. My pregnancy was considered high risk because I was only 15, but it turned out to be pretty easy. He's stayed out of the picture, and since we aren't really on good terms, I think it's best that way. He can wave bye-bye, clap his hands, and point at what he wants. I love buying him stuff: I get a 25 percent discount from the toy store I work in. Tyler's a good little boy most of the time, but like any toddler, he has his moments.
He's starting to pick out his clothes by opening the drawer and pulling out a shirt. When he cries in public, I really cringe, because I feel under a lot of pressure to be a perfect mom.
So good in fact that there appear to be no eyewitnesses to any of these crimes.