It’s Day One, and Counting.
How does this even happen? This is the stuff crazy writers like to make up for their novel, not something that actually happens! Today is day one, day one of going into a life without my baby. You know when you get pregnant at 17, you are not even sure if you want the kid. You guiltily wish to take that reckless decision back, so your life would be returned to you. Then-- then, you find out you're having twins. And you know you want to keep them, but you still heavily wish this part of your life was coming much later. And then at the age of nineteen, you watch as your ten month old baby boy gets ripped from his crib, and teared apart, limb for limb as a zombie, a freaking zombie, eats him. She eats him. I don't even want to call her a she, she is an it, a horrible, horrific, it. Those long nights of pregnancy, with those silent, guilty wishes... I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it...... I would have just let myself die too. How can I go through life after seeing my baby brutally killed, and eaten, right in front of my face? Seeing his blood innocent little body brutally destroyed. This little life my body created, who trusted my in the midst of his innocence cried as he realized something horrible was happening to him. And I wouldn't be able to go on if it weren't for her. She is the baby I so swiftly ran to in the midst of her brother's death, how I had to leave my baby boy in his final moments because I also have a baby girl. She lays down next to me in the hidden shelter I found us, and she smiles in her sleep. She is so oblivious to the horrors going around her. I wonder if it's even worth keeping her alive. But then I think, I have to try. I have to try to get her through this and bring her to the other side of it into a world she can thrive in. I have to have hope for her. While I have done nothing but cry on this day one of living my life without my baby, I am writing this so that if I leave this world while it's still in shambles, someone can pick up where I left off, because I have more than one baby, and she is the hope for this world, and this world is the hope for her.
Call me Fet. (revised)
Hello, you can call me fet.
That's what my friends would call me,
If we'd ever met
Let me start off with jealousy
The envy of what you can't get,
Which is all I can feel.
I try, and try, but can't seem to forget.
You have laughter, and you shed tears,
Things they thought I would never contain.
You feel excitement, and you have fears,
Two more, they thought I didn’t claim.
You are loved, if only by one.
I wasn’t “enough” to earn theirs.
They did something that can't be undone.
They made a mistake
So I was their punishment
They couldn't stand more time with me,
So they gave no acknowledgment
That I. Am. Human.
Before I was even a thought,
The “choice” was made.
Having sex was the blade.
Do you know what fet is short for?
And that's the only characteristic
They think I possess.
All these things the thought and think.
Have we not learned from history?
Were not blacks thought as non-human too?
Did you not see my little fingers and little toes?
Did you not hear the heartbeat whose sound always grows?
Did you not know, when my skulled was crushed,
My screams of terror were abruptly hushed?
“Shhh!” Wickedness loudly screeched,
He told me that they had already been reached.
That they had played into his hands,
And now, out of all the lands,
I am in heaven,
But this world's gone to hell.
When Do I Get it Back?
It was my name,
I didn’t give it to you to use.
It was something that belonged to me!
My name was mine, but you took it way.
You used it over and over until I finally said
It stays with you, ya know?
You can’t just throw it away, not really.
It is your companion for the rest of your life.
It says this person is just the same as this word.
It says this word means this person.
And that person is me.
I had learned to ignore you.
I didn’t know much else to do.
I was just a kid, just a child,
Starting to find my way.
And then, as I took my first baby step into this big world,
You took my name.
You took the thing that has been with me since birth.
The thing that I thought would be more familiar than a blanket or an imaginary friend.
The thing that came with me on this journey,
Something that would stay the same.
But Oh was I wrong.
My name is something others use
It is something that others abuse.
And I sat there in my desk, afraid of it’s use.
Because I found out rather quickly,
That when I stepped through the middle school doors,
People didn’t like me,
They didn’t want me to “be myself” as I was told all my life.
I learned people would hurt you,
Just so they could have a few fleeting chuckles.
Just because you happened to be there.
And I sat there in my desk, afraid of my names use.
But this fear was mild,
For the teacher was teaching.
There was no chance to talk unless you decided you were willing to get in trouble.
And most didn’t decide that, so I was in the clear for the next 10 minutes or so.
But then, there was a knock at the door.
Mrs. H had to go outside the door she said.
She will back in a minute she said.
Behave she said.
But unless my definition is different than hers, that direction was not followed.
Silence lacked the air, well until you broke it.
My name. My name is all that was said.
From across the room you called my name.
And as my body tensed up, I kept my back to you.
My name. Again, it was said.
It was said through the silence across the room for all the class to hear.
My name was then repeated by all my classmate, with their eyes focused on me.
And finally, out of disparity,
I turned my back and said “What?”-- already knowing nothing good was in store.
And then without words, an action was done towards me.
Something I don’t even want to write.
Although no noise came from you, it was so loud the whole class heard it crystal clear.
And then the roar of laughter, as i turn away.
And the tears that threatened to pour down my face.
But they didn’t.
The teacher came back,
And class resumed,
So the tears had to wait
As the world didn’t even notice my pain.
It’s just a phase.
That is what I’ve heard.
It passes, this phase of cruelty.
Maybe for them it does,
But for me,
It took away my name,
It took away the comfort of it.
It will haunted me for eternity,
It’s the day I realized It isn’t good enough
To just be me.
But then what’s left?
I thought it was enough.
Why can’t I be enough?
Where is my name?
When Do I get it Back?
I sit here, staring at my hands. I’m staring at my hands because they just happen to be in my line of sight. I sit here, staring at my hands and I see five, kind of short fingers on each of my hands. Those fingers are curved to form a top of a circle. I outstretch my short fingers and they start to shake. They move back and forth, ever so slightly. They repeat their motions until the shaking frustrates me so much I have to make a fist.
I think back to my high school years. I was anxiety filled, depressed, and an extrovert. I wanted to do everything, but always to scared to. The feeling of wanting to sing a solo in the choir concert, or talk to everyone I had something to say to, but I wouldn’t. To me however, it felt as though I couldn’t.
I remember shaking a lot in high school. Episodes of my anxiety would often leave me shaky. It would make my muscles feel like all the strength they once possessed, was suddenly drained. I hated that. Just like I hate it now. I hate the feeling of one of my few advantages against the harms of the world getting taken away from me ever so suddenly.
I had finally changed. I had finally let go of everything that was weighing me down. Cancer does that to you.
I remember sitting in the doctor's office waiting for my test results. It was cold in the room they put me in. My mom fidgeted with her hands every five seconds. She kept repeating “The tests were just a precaution, honey. Everythings going to be fine.”
I wouldn’t look her in the face. I just blankly stared at the ground before me. It was white, with little specks of green and blue scattering each tile. The thoughts that roamed through my head were; “Green speck, blue speck, green speck, green speck again, that one looks like the moon.” My eyes aimlessly followed the specks, slowly, looking at them careful enough to recreate each one. I was looking at a blue speck when a loud screech broke my concentration.
It was the door opening. The doctor walked in with an emotionless look on his face. As my head lifted, he looked at me, but quickly looked to my mother. “I’m sorry, but the test revealed…” Thats all I really needed to hear. I knew what he was going to say after that. I went back to looking at the floor, but thoughts kept interrupting my focus. Not so much thoughts, but one thought, over and over and over again.
“If I die… my life would be pathetic and worthless.”
Those ten words would replay through my mind… It was something I could not control. Slowly each word would be articulated in depths of my soul. Over the time of the doctor explaining, in depth, all the explanations associated with telling someone they have cancer, the sentence would break apart into sections. “Pathetic” would echo against my skull until it was so exhausted, I would move on to “worthless”, then “If I die”, and “If I die” turned into “I’m going to die.” Which had me conclude my deep thoughts into ringing the phrase “my life”. I didn’t want “my life” to end like it would. I needed to finally let go of all the baggage weighing me down. I could no longer let my extreme, impractical fears move me through my life like I was their puppet. With the little time I thought I had left, I had to do something with it, and my anxiety and my depression was going to hold me back. So as the doctor was continuing his cancer speech I looked up, and started to listen.
Ever since then I tried to embrace the extrovert I always was. Talking to people, doing things. I focused on the things that would give me joy, things that would make people say at the funeral I thought was short to come; “She had a short life, but she was always so confident and happy.” And honestly, my epiphany helped me achieve that goal. Well, until now.
Suddenly all of my anxieties that were buried away in the attic of my head came spilling out. Was he using me the whole time? Did he ever care about me? I was so stupid. I was so stupid to think anyone would have any interest in this broken piece of crap they call Faith.
My chest started to tighten as each memory I once felt were precious moments, replayed through my head like scenes from a horror movie. One after the other, then back to the one, and back to the other. My muscles continue to weaken. I’m gasping for air to gain some comfort. However no comfort is gained by the air that does nothing but leave me gasping once again.
I finally start to relax as I focus on my breathing. Inhale, exhale, inhale, hold it, exhale. As a form of calamity sets in I started to think back to what happened.
I Don’t Want It
Supply and Demand.
Things that determine worth.
If supply goes up
Then the price goes down.
That's just how it goes.
People just give it away now a days.
They just toss it to some random stranger if they can.
A three dollar drink can lead to it.
It's expected as the "norm" to have it.
It doesn't take much to get it.
I'm talking about sex.
So much talk about it.
So much shown about it.
So much heard about it.
From advertisements to music to movies.
Virgins are prudes
And sluts are praised.
But it's so backwards.
If sex is so easily attainable it's worth goes down.
It's not special anymore.
A wedding night is just an excuse to do it even more than you already have.
I have different reasons for staying a virgin until I say "I do."
But even if some slipped away.
I hope I'd stay the same.
It's supposed to be magical and special.
Something you don't give away like you're gonna lose it tomorrow.
Sex is not supposed to be as meaningless as a scoop of ice cream.
It's not a nice treat that you get on a Wednesday.
And if it is not with the only one I have completely committed to
And am completely in love with.
I don't want it.
I Am Me.
I am from two preschools, four elementary schools, one middle school, and two high schools.
I am from the houses (of town and not) and apartments that were laid for us.
I am from the nights my father worked,
Just to pay for me.
I’m from the conversations about my mother’s horrid life,
And the arguments the last two caused of it.
I am from the joy the little me used to have,
The freedom and confidence as she played and laughed.
I am from the shadows laid on the sidewalks path.
The middle I saw barely, for there were more important things.
I am from the lake who saw our great adventures
Unfold before her eyes.
From the numbers that became people, from this weird mind of mine.
With relationships, and arguments, they portrayed a life.
I am from the court, the field, the gym.
I’m from jammed fingers, late nights, and sore muscles.
It made me see some light.
I am from the echo of my name,
Bouncing off the walls,
I’m from the tears that followed as I walked down the halls.
I am from the silence thereafter, in the many years,
The quick glances and short answers, and avoidance of my peers.
I am from the moments so close to death,
That I never even died.
The chest pains, muscle weakness, and lack of oxygen painfully ending my life.
Beyond my choice, and beyond my will, death was standing there holding the knife.
I am from these moments so close to death that people call physical illusions,
That it felt so real, but I was actually gonna be okay.
But the fact was I was not okay, and I was not living, this death was more than just a sick day.
I am from the pen that used salt water ink,
And keys made of years gone by.
I am from the nasty words and nasty glances,
And a sister who didn’t give second chances.
But also, I am not from chance.
I am not from a glob of cells that just happened to make me.
I am not a mistake,
Or some evolution randomality.
And most importantly,
I’m from the One who made all things.
I am from late night prayers,
And hard hit sermons.
I’m from the joy of undeserving salvation.
Not the kind that fades and leads you back to the nearest gas station.
I am from the dripping blood of a purely perfect Lamb.
I’m from the nails beating into bone,
And glass whipped into flesh.
I’m from that crown of thorns,
That digged deep into His skull.
I am from the dripping blood of a purely perfect Lamb,
And I am Saved, and undeserving, and thankful.
I am from the One who made all things.
I am me.
My Gift from Above
It is mid morning, and you could feel the transition happening from summer to fall right in that moment. I love being outside. It transforms me somehow, takes me to a different time, a different place. And whenever the weather plays the right strings, time slows, and I just breathe. That is just how it is today. I just close my eyes and breathe. I feel the gentle hugs of wind turn into hair lifting embraces, and I love it. I feel moments like this are tiny gifts from The Creator, reminding me the world is still good, and most of all He is still, and always will be, good. It reminds me I’m still loved, and most of all, loved by the King of all the universe, who in just six days created everything that my human brain can store and more. And the sun he put in the sky on day four shines down on me, intertwining with the wind. The birds, created on day five, singing their lullabies to me as I take this moment in. The smells of the trees and the plants that were made on day three being uplifted into my airway. The feeling of warm and cold air chasing each other to make this wonderful atmosphere I feel tickle on my fingers. And I stand here, right here in this moment, and I imagine being carried away with this wind, my dress resembling light, flowing wings taking me higher and higher. I would be soaring, and twirling, and dancing in the clouds. My feet stepping and moving in a beautiful chaotic motion as I make my way through the sky. The wind ever so fast, rushing against my blushing cheeks. In this moment I am beautiful, which is unlike any other mundane moment. A smile on my face, and no worries in my head as I just be. Now, as I finally open my eyes, time begins again, the world is real now. I take a last glance at the moment behind me, trying to hold on to it before it leaves. However, without my permission it flies away into memories. Then the world starts pushing me forwards. God pulls me away from that blissful moment, not out of cruelty, but because of the work that needs to be done. He sends the world to bring me back as if He is gently guiding my shoulders. And I am thankful for my little gift of heaven, for this is a glance of what is to come.
What Tips the Domino
Situations rise. Complications occur. There seems to only be one thinkable option left--abortion. There are teenagers who ran into sex too carelessly, adults who are not ready for the commitment, parents who don’t know how to raise a special needs child, women who are faced with choosing between their lives or their child's, and girls who have been assaulted. Those are the causes or reasons one might choose the gruesome termination of a newly conceived life, but what about after the fact? What happens after the doctor goes in and starts the procedure that legally ends a beating heart? What are the effects of abortion? People like to believe there are a lot of grey areas in life, things that just can’t be pinned down. However most of the time the things associated with grey areas are clearly black or white. Effects of abortion is one of them. It’s not a pleasant thing, but the hope is life eventually goes back to how it previously was. However, the results usually don’t support that hope.
There are obvious effects that people may expect. For example, the woman in question will no longer be pregnant. However, effects of abortion are more complicated than that simple answer, and span much wider than to just the mother. The fetus, or baby, is affected. Some may assume they are about to read a radical claim that a baby is murdered. This is not necessarily false. However, there are reliable sources on how an abortion affects the fetus. A future for that little beating heart is gone. Poof! Vanished. People don’t like to think of it like that. A rationale behind abortion according to Valerie Tarico / Salon at Alternet.org is; “I’m pro-abortion because I think morality is about the well-being of sentient beings.” (Tarico) The definition of sentient is “able to perceive or feel things.”(Google) Some people don’t believe they are taking a life because the fetus is not really human, it’s not a “sentient being”, it can’t perceive or feel things. However, When asked the question “Does the baby feel pain during an abortion?” Dr. Beverly McMillan, an obstetrician and gynecologist, and an expert on abortion said she does not deny the claim. She said “From six weeks the baby has sensation around its face and mouth. At seven weeks the baby can feel a needle stick and draw back. Even at that time if you put a little probe or instrument in the baby's hand it will curl up its hand around it, so it feels things.” (McMillan) According to that statement the “fetus” is already halfway there to becoming a sentiment being. What about the other half? The definition of perceive is “become aware or conscious of (something); come to realize or understand.” (Google) Dictionary synonyms include recognize and distinguish, all of which fetuses can do. In an article found on sciencemag.org “As a fetus grows inside a mother's belly, it can hear sounds from the outside world—and can understand them well enough to retain memories of them after birth, according to new research.” This displays that fetuses can perceive, they can recognize, they can distinguish, they can feel things. Therefore, according to pro-abortion writer Valerie Tarico / Salon, beings with those properties are sentient beings and morality has to do with the well-being of them. Which means we should be concerned with the effects of abortion since it not only ends their life, but ends it painfully as common abortions call for dismemberment, and in some procedures, partial birth and crushing of the skull. (pmaf.org) (americanpregnancy.org)
As already stated, the effects to the fetus are terminal. However, there are also physical effects to the mother that may include fatality. An abortion is not a procedure that just happens and the patient is immediately back to normal. According to AmericanPregnancy.org common side effects can last 2-4 weeks after the procedure. (AmericanPregnancy.org) These mild, common, side effects range from abdominal pain, cramping, vomiting, and bleeding. Less common, but more severe side effects are experienced in 1 in 100 first trimester abortions and 1 in 50 late term abortions. (AmericanPregnancy.org) These side effects include cervical and uterus problems, including cervical cancer. Those effects can complicate future wanted pregnancies by having increased chances of miscarriage and premature birth. Abortions can also lead to infertility. Also, infections such as sepsis, a potentially life threatening infection can occur. Sepsis is not the only way women die as a result from abortion procedures. Women who have abortions are four times as likely to die in the next year of their life, and 58 percent more likely to die during childbirth.(AfterAbortion.org) However, physical effects of abortion may be nothing compared to the psychological effects.
Regret, anger, guilt, loneliness, low self esteem, insomnia, nightmares, suicidal thoughts, depression, and anxiety are all common emotional side effects after abortion. (AmericanPregnancy.org) A testimony about an abortion experience revealed these symptoms aren’t usually temporary. “ I felt like I couldn’t talk about it, and that I should just get over the feelings of regret and depression. I was sure it would go away soon. Weeks turned into months of regret. Months turned into years. It is the elephant in the room to this day.” (Elizabeth) There are a ton more testimonies about abortion years and decades after the abortion. People with depression feel empty. They are hopeless and feel helpless. (WebMD) People with anxiety have this feeling of dread and fear. They anticipate the worst and are prone to anxiety attacks. The anxiety attacks aren’t pleasant. For some their chest feels like it's getting squeezed to stop the oxygen from flowing in. Their heart race increases, stomach goes into knots, and they hyperventilate as their muscles become weaker. ((HelpGuide.org) Sleep is a time that is meant for your body to relax and rest. However, when you have insomnia or nightmares that is a luxury they cannot afford. Then there are suicidal thoughts. When someone comes to the point in their life when they feel they are so worthless, or are in so much pain that the only alternative is to stop their own beating heart, that is truly a horrible feeling. These emotional feelings do not only affect the mother. The fetus’ father also suffered a loss. A child that could have came into this world because they share the same flesh and bone but didn’t is still their child. It still hurts, as portrayed by a testimony of a father to an aborted baby. “I was just numbed by the procedure and hurting inside. I wanted so much to say something, anything, to make it stop. I hurt so bad inside, and I had nobody to talk to.” (Fred) It’s the woman’s choice, the woman’s body, the woman’s well being, yet the man was effected.
Maybe the man is effected because it wasn’t about the woman’s choice, or the woman’s body, or the woman’s well being. Maybe it was because it was about that baby,
that growing life inside of her that wasn’t just her’s, but his, and the world's. The effects of abortions can not even be number because the world does not know who it missed. What if that beating heart that just ceased to beat again was going to be the president who brought world peace? What if that “fetus” was going to be the scientist who made the breakthrough to discovering how to reverse global warming? What if that baby was going to grow up to be the love of your life, and the parent to your children? What if they were going to be that role model that made all the difference in a troubled youths life? The world will never really know the effects of abortion, because how can the world measure what it will never be able to find out? The world may have missed something, but the parents missed holding their child's hand, and kissing it’s newborn cheek. They missed first steps, the first day of school, and last day of being chauffeured. It is not just the biological parents. The choices are not abortion or keep the baby. If someone does not want to keep the child, they aren’t between a rock and a hard place. There are safe haven laws, and adoption centers with parents eagerly waiting for a child to call their own. Their hearts are broken as a child that could have been that missing piece to their family, ceased to exist. It’s not just the mother, it’s not just the fetus, it’s not just anyone who will feel the effects of abortion. It could be everyone.
Causes for abortion a numerous. However effects of abortions are countless. When the doctor goes in and begins that first step to having human life disappear, the effects are dominos waiting to fall afterwards. Its effects are way more expansive than just the fetus or just the mother. The effects are physically painful, and emotionally damaging. One after another, the dominoes fall. It will never be known on earth how many or how long. The decision to choose abortion is a huge one. It should not be taken lightly and all the information on alternatives and effects should be taken into consideration. That little glob of cells is not so little when the consequences and effects are pointed out. The ten little fingers and tiny little hands hold the effects of so many lives.
"Abortion." Doctors, Patient Care, Health Education, Medical Research. N.p., n.d. Web. 24 May 2016.
"After Abortion." After Abortion. N.p., n.d. Web. 24 May 2016.
"Anxiety Disorders and Anxiety Attacks." : Signs, Symptoms, and Treatment Options. N.p., n.d. Web. 24 May 2016.
"Babies Learn to Recognize Words in the Womb." Science. N.p., 2013. Web. 24 May 2016.
Elizabeth. "Silent No More Awareness Campaign: Living with the Consequences." Silent No More Awareness Campaign. N.p., n.d. Web. 24 May 2016.
Fred. "Silent No More Awareness Campaign: A Non-Person." Silent No More Awareness Campaign. N.p., n.d. Web. 24 May 2016.
"Possible Physical Side Effects After Abortion." American Pregnancy Association. N.p., 2012. Web. 24 May 2016. .
"Signs of Clinical Depression: Symptoms to Watch For." WebMD. WebMD, n.d. Web. 24 May 2016.
"Surgical Abortion Procedures: Types, Side Effects and Risks." American Pregnancy Association. N.p., 2012. Web. 24 May 2016. .
I Love You, Precious Baby
I will love you til the end of my days.
With each moment,
no matter how many there were,
That I pictured your beautiful face,
You brought some light into my dark world.
No matter how many children I have,
Or as many as I will,
You will just as much be my baby.
Even though there were tons of anticipated moments lost,
There will be multiple more to gain,
After my wait for my baby is over
And we are reunited once again.
I'll see you in heaven my darling,
Jesus will take care of you,
As he has taken care of me.
Hold his hand and hold it tight.
And listen to the sound of his voice,
For there is no other like it.
He is the creator, and you lay in his arms.
There is no better place for my baby to be.
I love you.