I can hardly believe it, even as I type it; my little boy is 16 years old! I remember the day he was born with vivid detail. I was just 17 years old that day; naive, scared, excited, sad, confused, yet so sure of my decision. Months earlier my father and I had a meeting set up with an adoption agency. It was just an informal type meeting with birth mothers, adopted children and waiting families, all sharing their stories. That morning I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach, this feeling that I just couldn’t do it. I knew, I had known all along, that there was no way I would be able to hand over my child. As we walked to the car to leave I told my Dad my decision. He almost cried with relief. He told me he had known all along, too. He said that he could hardly imagine his daughter handing over her child. His child who, over the years brought in baby birds with broken wings, countless stray cats and strange looking dogs no one else would take.. That no matter how hard the circumstances, I would find a way. Somehow I did. That first day, holding my baby in my arms, with his soft, fuzzy blond hair, his perfect little fingers, his beautiful blue eyes, I knew we would be okay. We were going to make it. And even though its been a long, hard journey, it has been a beautiful one. I could not imagine my life any other way. What a blessing he is to me. I love you, Ty!