when i was 16 i was sure i would be the last one to "hold out", to not do the "dirty". i remeber the chill in the air as i read the test. one word appeared. pregnant. how could that be? we had been so safe. i ran to the store and bought three more, all different brands because i need to know the truth. three test with the same word. pregnant. i could not kill the baby. it was a life and i had no right to kill it. i could not give the baby away because once i saw it, that would be a different story. i picked up the phone and dialed the fimailair numbers that were beganing to rub off. once his voice came on, i wept. and wept. my words were jibberish, sobs that he could not understand. when i finally sputtered the words out i heard the phone drop to the floor. he had a life ahead of him and now me and this little life form were going to ruin it. he picked up the phone and i noticed he was weeping to. he promised that he would be right over to "talk" but i turned him down. i was too sad. too mad. i wanted my mom to confort me but if i told her i would be dead. we meet up the following day and sat there and cried. he said he would never leave me and i said this was a mistake. he drove me to the doctor and waited outside in the car. when i got back, he was crying so i held him in my arms. we knew we would never be the same. he was there when i told my mom, he was there to get ice for me after she slapped me, he was there to give me a place to stay that night and thereforth. he was there when my water gushed out and took me to the hospital. he held my hand thru labor and even sang to me. but what suprised me the most is what a good dad he is. he treats logan with the love she needs. he told me today that even thru the pain he was glad he got me pregnant.