My story (Very long)

(Edit: I thought this was very long because of how much emotion I put into it. It's not really long. :p ) On August 20th, 2012 I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy named Dawson. Five months into being pregnant, I was in such a state of denial. I didn't have any appointments with doctors, ultrasound, etc., (don't lecture me about this, I knew it was stupid of me) but in my heart, I knew I was (mother's instinct of course). I was only 19 years old. When my mother and stepdad found out, they considered I put the child up for adoption using an agency that he used to adopt his daughter. I thought it was a very good idea. A couple of weeks into talking with this social worker, a friend of mine(let's call her P) messaged me and told me that she and her boyfriend were talking about adoption for five years, she herself cannot carry a child, and that she would be honored to raise my child. At this point it's June, right after I graduate from high school, and I'm ecstatic. I thought this was an even better idea and my boyfriend agreed. (we did the adoption process through surrogate court and it's an open adoption. He's also gonna find out he's adopted when he's older) Almost everyone I knew was happy about the whole thing... except my mother and brothers. (my grandmother wasn't too happy at first either, but she met him and absolutely fell in love) Fast forward to August 20th, my water broke at around 5 in the morning. P picked me up and drove me an hour to the hospital(my boyfriend didn't have a car, he was waiting for the car for his own reasons, don't ask), as I was in my room, my mother was insulting me, P, my father, and that she wasn't going to see me(not going into details). I was absolutely infuriated, but then relieved to know there are far more people who are supportive of my boyfriend and I's decision. I gave birth to my son at 11:59pm. Months prior to giving birth, I was constantly depressed and upset that I wouldn't be able to raise my own son. After the staff cleaned him up, my boyfriend and I were given the chance to hold him. He did, and he looked so proud. I however, couldn't. It was hard to even think about it, to even look at him. My son and P stayed in one room while I stayed in a different room. A nurse who worked there told me that her and the whole staff thought that me and my boyfriend were absolutely admirable for the decision we've made together and that we were the strongest couple in the hospital that week. We've seen him a few times since then, and he's grown up so big so quick (already fits in 18 month clothes!). He looks so happy, and I'm happy because of it. But my heart still aches, and I'm always upset with the fact that he won't ever call me 'mommy'. I'm also scared that when he finds out he's adopted, he's going to hate me and his father. I'm just hoping for the best right now and I need someone who went through the same thing to give me some comforting words or something..