I was 18 years old. A college student graduating three semesters early, already with a solid plan to attend a prestigious graduate school. My relationship was far from perfect; it was founded upon lies and manipulation. My boyfriend was immature, and seemingly uninvolved. I had never wanted anything more than to one day be a mother.


When I saw the two pink lines, I was not scared. I was anxious, shocked, but never scared. I was humble enough to accept that I could not raise a child at that time, but confident enough to believe that I could go through with an Open Adoption. Paperwork was created and families were interviewed all in a span of 12 weeks. But then my physical health came into question- my body just was unable to go through the trauma of birth at that time. It was selfish, but I just wanted my own future.


I tried to keep a smile on the entire time I was at the clinic, just to let the other individuals know that it was going to be okay. Afterwards, I felt so numb. I do not remember a thing, thanks to sedation. Then the grief came, and it hit me like a truck. I mourned the baby that I could have had. I mourned the experience of labor and delivery; tremendous pain, but so worth it in the end. I mourned what could have been, and I think that I always will. I was able to do a fetal sex blood test before- the fetus was a girl. Willow. Growth and beauty despite difficult conditions. June, after the month that I lost her. Everything that I do will be for her, and I cannot wait for the day in which I am able to welcome my own children into this world. But for now, I sit and wonder what could have been. I love you to the moon and to Saturn, my Willow June ❤️