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 don’t 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 ‘baby talk.’ And I miss seeing the exuberant life in that child’s 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.
“We went too far,” he had said to me. “We said we wouldn’t, but we did. You know what our families will say--now we only have the one choice.”
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 didn’t think of it that way; I was only seeking the solution to my problem. No, it wasn’t until it was too late that I realized what I had done. I couldn’t see it, but my baby had still been a living being. And I had killed it.
Anger and sorrow overtook me, and I couldn’t bear to even look at my boyfriend. So I left him. Because of what he did and how he acted, I don’t feel bad about that decision. Why couldn’t 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 don’t 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 can’t help it, but I’m envious of them. I want my child back. I want to reverse every decision I made concerning that matter. But I can’t. That’s 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 don’t want to get out of bed, knowing that I won’t hear any little giggles, or there won’t be any toothless grins awaiting me as I enter the baby’s room.
There’s 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 who’ve 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 someone’s 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 child’s 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 don’t understand how He could still love me after what I’ve done. I’m so ashamed. I know He does love me, but how can I have peace with that when I don’t even love myself? I hate myself for what I’ve done. I know I shouldn’t, because everyone makes mistakes—albeit this was a very big mistake—and Jesus loves me anyway.
Forgiveness is the key, right? That’s what I’ve always been taught while growing up. God will always forgive you, but you can’t feel it, you won’t 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. That’s something I just can’t do; the pain is too strong. However, I put up a front for all who see me. They all think I’m 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 I’ve also been taught that through God, all things are possible, I think I’ll 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, ‘God, I need your help,’ 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 I’ll be alright. It will take me a while though; I don’t expect an overnight miracle. I loved that baby, even if I didn’t 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 it’s meaning, simply because I’ve put God back into it. Now I have to work at rebuilding. So I can truly be happy, and not just as a front.
I’m still ashamed of what I’ve 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 didn’t 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.
“I’m so sorry for giving back to You, my little angel.”
Read more articles by Rachel Lovell or search for articles on the same topic or others.
