My Dearest Child,
Ten years ago yesterday, I carried you beneath my heart.
Ten years ago today,
I stopped the beating of your heart.
I, your Mother, the one who gave you life
also gave you death.
It's been a decade and still my blood runs cold
and I catch my breath whenever I hear the word
abortion.
There's an emptiness inside of me that cannot be filled,
a chill that has never quite been warmed,
a grief that will never end.
To me, you will forever remain an unfinished song,
a flower that has never bloomed,
a sunrise clouded by rain.
Even during your last moments of life,
I wondered, "Is my baby a boy or a girl?"
The question ran through my mind again and again
as I tried to block out the sickening sounds
of you being suctioned from my womb
and my life.
(medical equipment sounds)
I seemed to have a burning need to know
whether I would have a son or daughter,
yet somehow I couldn't bear to ask such an indelicate question of the doctor
who stood smiling above me.
Instead, I simply nodded in defeat and sadness
as the man in white padded my trembling hand and said,
"Now, aren't you glad it's over?"
As I lay there,
drowning in my own blood, tears, and sweat
I could hear the nurses chattering about co-workers, new cars, and clothes.
(women talking)
To these people,
the extermination of your life was simply a job.
"Making a living by destroying the living."
To those gathered in that sunny room in Philadelphia 10 years ago,
it was just another day.
To me, it was the darkest day I had ever known.
The Abortion; the most heartwrenching, terrible experience
I have ever suffered through in my 18 years.
Certainly the most painful experience suffered by you in your 3 short months.
It has taken me all these years to get over it.
Now as my eyes fill with tears,
I realize this is something I will never get over.
That fateful April day.
Even in my distraught state of mind,
I knew that there were other choices.
I was simply to scared to consider the alternative.
Still a child myself,
I wasn't ready to be a mother.
What I didn't realize was that I already was a mother.
You became my child at the moment of conception.
My love for you began when your life began
and although your life ended, that love has never died.
Your silent screams have awoken me from sleep many times over the years
and I have lain in the dark and mourned the loss of the baby I killed.
There have even been times when I have contemplated
ending my own life as I have ended yours.
It's been 10 years and I still haven't forgiven myself.
Have you forgiven me?
Has God forgiven me for destroying a being created by Him?
I've had many nightmares over the years.
Scenes of a tiny fetus in a trash bag haunt my subconscious.
I've awakened in a cold sweat
again feeling the excruciating pain of that long ago day.
I recall the intense physical pain of the abortion,
but those 10 minutes of hurt were nothing compared to
the 10 years of pain I've lived with since.
For years my heart has ached to write you this letter,
but whenever I attempted to put my feelings into words, I. . .
Perhaps this letter was meant to be written in order to help others
to avoid the agony I experienced.
If this letter prevents even one abortion,
it will have served a purpose.
But Baby, my purpose in sending this letter to you
is to let you know that I love you.
Whoever you are.
And I'm sorry.
Love, Mommy