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Honey- I don't know how to start this letter. I love you and I know that you love me too, but I need you to understand how I am feeling. I know that I have been fighting with you a lot lately and I am sorry, its just that I am so mad at both you and myself. I wonder what would of happened if I said that I wanted to keep our baby...I know that you would of been supportive, but I didn't want to put you through that pressure, because I know what you wanted to do. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him -- a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an im- pressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too -- well dressed on a week-day. This was simply as- tounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close- buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on -- and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved -- but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: I know that you are still hurting...I just don't know why we don't talk about it. I need someone to talk to. I feel so alone at times. If I could do it all over again, I would probably tell you that I wanted to keep it. You will never know exactly how I feel, because you never carried our baby inside of you. Our baby was totally dependent on me...and I let it down. It was my final decision, and I know that I could of decided to keep it, but I didn't. I hate myself for it. I feel like now I have lost so many experiences...I will always wonder about my first baby, what she (I believe that our baby was a girl) would of looked like, what she could of became, and everything about her...I wonder where she is. "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. I know that you have been supportive and that you are trying to understand, but I need more. I need you to be willing to talk more. You always tell me that it is not my fault and that it was our best decision...that is not what I want to hear from you...I need you just to listen to me, tell me how you feel and hold me and let me cry in arms...just like you did when I found out that I was pg. Xg23UEAbUSrVLM0EP69NHaddk89xpiQ1P0cD0WW6ZeDr1Yy9WeCJ I love you, and I do not want this to ruin our relationship. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I need you to listen to me more...I need your help. I love you, Christy