It was two months after I turned 18. I found out I was pregnant. I had my baby girl exactly a month (to the day) before my birthday.

By 37 weeks I was ready to stop being pregnant. I was still not ready for Baby, but simply miserable and swollen. My 38-week appointment found out I was very sick and had to be induced the next night. After 15 hours of magnesium sulfate, Cytotec and Pitocin, made it to 1 centimeter dilated and no effacement.

They only had to suggest Cesarean section once before I agreed. My mother and husband were all for the section, although now I know it's going to be hard for me to try for a vaginal birth with my next children.

At 12:54 p.m., my daughter was pulled from my abdomen, weighing 8 pounds, 6 1/4 ounces, 20.5 inches long (short considering I'm 5 feet, 9 inches and my husband is 6 feet, 3 inches).

I don't remember seeing her the first time, just a bundle of blankets. Then recovering alone and finally breastfeeding for 5 months. Couldn't birth my baby, couldn't breastfeed for the year I wanted. I feel broken, but I love my daughter like no other.

My husband and I are planning a VBAC when I get pregnant again.