A/N: This story came to me while I was reading a research paper on some of the effects of abortion. This is a strong topic, I know. Please keep in mind that this story is purely a work of fiction. It was written because I personally donít believe in abortion.
They say there are angels among us; angels that watch over and protect us. Those who have passed on from this life; and those who have always been angelic, never to know how it feels to live a mortal life. They are selfless, always protecting. Their number one goal is to keep bad things from happening to us.
What happens when the angels are helpless? When there is absolutely nothing they can do to keep a life from ending?
My life seems so empty to me. It amazes me how one life, so small, could leave such a void in my heart. This particular life I speak of, I never even knew. That would be my baby.
I miss all the late night feedings, singing lullabies, counting those tiny fingers and toes. I miss hearing the gibberish that is otherwise known as Ďbaby talk.í And I miss seeing the exuberant life in that childís eyes.
I miss everything about being a mother, and yet I never was one. I was never able to experience even one of those motherly joys. All because I let my boyfriend talk me into having an abortion.
ďWe went too far,Ē he had said to me. ďWe said we wouldnít, but we did. You know what our families will say--now we only have the one choice.Ē
To this very day, I resent him so deeply for all he said. But I was scared, so I listened to him. I went through with it. I had my baby killed. I really didnít think of it that way; I was only seeking the solution to my problem. No, it wasnít until it was too late that I realized what I had done. I couldnít see it, but my baby had still been a living being. And I had killed it.
Anger and sorrow overtook me, and I couldnít bear to even look at my boyfriend. So I left him. Because of what he did and how he acted, I donít feel bad about that decision. Why couldnít he have just dealt with the problem and tried to be a good father? Or he could have left me to deal with it alone. But I donít know how I would have dealt with it had he not been there. Would I have done the same thing anyway?
Everywhere I go I see mothers with their children. I canít help it, but Iím envious of them. I want my child back. I want to reverse every decision I made concerning that matter. But I canít. Thatís the funny thing about life, about abortion. There is no second chance. The hurt and emptiness inside me is so overwhelming. There are some days I simply donít want to get out of bed, knowing that I wonít hear any little giggles, or there wonít be any toothless grins awaiting me as I enter the babyís room.
Thereís nothing, simply nothing. No expectations of the future for that child. No hoping he or she would win at the school science fair. There will be no chance of my child being on the cheerleading squad, or basketball team. No noisy sleepovers; and no rowdy friends whoíve come over just to hang out.
Why did I have to do it?
What if that child had someday been able to invent a cure for a disease? Or even simply save someoneís life--one life, it would have made a difference to someone. Anything at all, no life is useless; he or she would have had a purpose, a reason to live.
Why did I feel the need to end that childís life before it even began?
I have such a longing to hold that baby in my arms. As I suppose any mother would if her baby had died. But I feel even worse because the reason that baby died is my fault. I signed the papers consenting that it was okay. I gave the doctor permission. Only one person is responsible, and that person is myself.
I try to find strength through prayer, but I donít understand how He could still love me after what Iíve done. Iím so ashamed. I know He does love me, but how can I have peace with that when I donít even love myself? I hate myself for what Iíve done. I know I shouldnít, because everyone makes mistakesóalbeit this was a very big mistakeóand Jesus loves me anyway.
Forgiveness is the key, right? Thatís what Iíve always been taught while growing up. God will always forgive you, but you canít feel it, you wonít be able to let it in until you forgive yourself. I know He has forgiven me. But before peace comes is the hard part; forgiving myself. Thatís something I just canít do; the pain is too strong. However, I put up a front for all who see me. They all think Iím doing fine. Well, those who knew about it. Anyone else would think nothing happened, I try so hard not to break down and show my emotions to my friends and family. But since Iíve also been taught that through God, all things are possible, I think Iíll give the forgiveness thing a try.
I stood out on the veranda and slowly knelt. I could feel the tears coming. And then, for the very first time since this all happened, I said a prayer. Not just a quick prayer, but a heartfelt, ĎGod, I need your help,í prayer. I begged and pleaded for the forgiveness, even though I knew it was already freely given. Then I asked Him to help me through the emptiness, and the pain and hurt.
With His help I know Iíll be alright. It will take me a while though; I donít expect an overnight miracle. I loved that baby, even if I didnít think about everything until it was too late. And love can hurt when torn away, or in this case when thrown away. But God will help me to fill the void. Through time, and of course, faith and prayer, life will have meaning again. Actually, it already has regained itís meaning, simply because Iíve put God back into it. Now I have to work at rebuilding. So I can truly be happy, and not just as a front.
Iím still ashamed of what Iíve done, though. We have angels to protect us. And sometimes God even makes those angels real for us. Such as the precious angels He gives us. Those angels are sent to us for love. I am so sorry. I didnít accept my angel. I returned it to Heaven.
Tears still find their way into my eyes, but they no longer hold quite so much anguish. There was one last thing I felt I must say.
ďIím so sorry for giving back to You, my little angel.Ē