A/N: This is the last chapter. I know it's shorter than I said it would be, but I'm going to immediately begin Carly's story, so it'll be up very soon. It'll be called Chaotic, so look for it. Thank you to all my readers!

Chapter 13

When May came, I was extremely anxious. This would be the month that Dylan would have his first birthday. It seemed so unreal. Melissa, Carly, and I were planning this party for him with a big Elmo cake and lots of presents for him.

As it got closer and closer to his birthday, he learned to say yet another word: “love”. When he was particularly content, he’d say: “Love, Mama,” or something like that. I assumed that it was his was of telling me that he loved me.

His hair had started to grow lighter and you could definitely see that it was dark red. It no longer looked brown.

When his birthday finally came, he was on a total sugar high. I took a bunch of pictures and he got a butt load of new toys, books, clothes, and some bottles, as he could now drink cows’ milk. No more expensive formula! Yay!

When summer came, my mother finally let me go do things. The first thing I did was go to Melissa’s beach party and absolutely nothing bad happened. Go me! I did get hit on by one of Jason’s friends though, and Jason saw and socked the guy in the mouth and continued avoiding me. How sweet.

When I turned sixteen, I threw a gigantic party on the beach with a huge bonfire. I met this great guy named Richard and we started going out. He didn’t seemed too bothered by Dylan. Apparently, his sister had also been a teen mom. She was now twenty-one and her kid was five and she was married and pregnant again.

I also got a job at a grocery store. Luckily, it had a huge playroom just for employees’ children. There were beds, toys, everything imaginable. The van would take me to the Infant Center to pick him up every day after school, and then take us to the store. I was a little upset that we didn’t get much bonding time together, but we adjusted.

Richard was very good with Dylan. He was always bringing him toys or something to play with while we made out on the couch. When we started having sex, I went on the pill in case he didn’t have any condoms or anything. I never forgot to take it, so I never got pregnant.

Jason and I never spoke to each other again. He had nothing to do with Dylan and I was fine with that. Richard was hanging around so much, though, that Dylan even called him “Daddy” once. I don’t think Richard minded so much, but I could see that it jolted him a bit.

I was glad that Dylan didn’t looked anything like Jason except for his eyes. He had my hair, dimples, chin, smile, and ears. I often wondered about how it would affect Dylan to grow up without a father. I never told these things to Carly, though, as she would start to worry about Dreama.

When Dylan was nearly two, he got the chicken pox and had to go into quarantine. With me. I’d never had chicken pox in my life, and now I did. Too keep his mind off itching, we played a bunch of games that involved using hands.

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As time went on, I still did the best I could to be a great mom to Dylan. Yes, sometimes I got frustrated, but it always went away when he looked at me straight in the eyes.,

It still amazed me to know that he was mine. My baby. My son. All mine. No one could take him from me.

When I turned eighteen, I went to a local university and lived in apartment with Dylan. I was studying to become a teacher for teen parents.

When I turned twenty, I married Richard and we went on a honeymoon to the Bahamas. He officially adopted Dylan and Dylan eventually started calling Richard ‘Dad’.

I was twenty-two when I had my first children with Richard: twin girls named Anna and Anne. Of course, it was hard to have three young children (though technically, Dylan wasn’t that young, as he was eight). Richard and I fought sometimes, but we still remembered that we were high school sweethearts and we loved each other to death.

Melissa didn’t marry until she was 25. Dylan and the girls always called Aunt Melly.

And my world keeps on turning and my children grow older and older. When I 25, I had my fourth and final child named Matthew. After that, I got my tubes tied.

I hoped that none of my children would ever become a teen parent like I did. If either Matt or Dylan did, I would probably force them to support that baby, because I know what it’s like to be a single parent.

End.