My story starts 15 years ago. I was 17 years old and found myself pregnant. My mother attempted to make me have an abortion.( I got there and couldn't do it. That day was the first time that I felt her move.) I was so scared at the thought of being a Mom and my family was having a fit because the baby was bi-racial (my grandfather was a very racist man). So to prevent my child (daughter) from growing up in a family that would treat her differently, I listened to my mother, and chose adoption. My little girl was adopted by a wonderful family and is happy today. About 6 months after the adoption, my grandfather found out that I had given her up and he would not speak to me. For almost a year he didn't have anything to do with me or even speak to me. When he finally did speak to me, all he could say was that he couldn't believe that I would give his grandchild to strangers. This hurt me to the core. Things were never the same between us after that. The year that he died, I moved home to take care of him (he had cancer). After a lot of soul-searching and talking those last few months, everything was forgiven between both of us. I thank God that I had those last few months with him.