It’s May 9, 2005. Yesterday was Mother’s Day. My birthday is going to be today. I just know it is. Mama took me to the doctor’s office the other day and I heard the doctor say he’d do the procedure on Monday, May 9th. I didn’t hear him say his name, sometimes it’s kind of muffled here in the womb. I did hear Mama say that the name of the place we were was called the “Women’s Clinic.” It must be a nice place because they take care of women and their babies. I wonder why the doctor called it “the procedure,” though. I thought it was called “being born.”
My angel came and visited me yesterday. He said that it wouldn’t be long before I would be leaving here. He said that after the procedure, I would be going to the most beautiful place that anybody could ever imagine. He said that I would be surrounded by total love and indescribable happiness. I didn’t know that the world was really that beautiful. I’ve been able to hear and understand things for awhile now and some of the things I’ve heard make me think the world is not all that nice of a place.
I sure will be glad to get out of here. Mama takes drugs and drinks something called alcohol. It makes me feel sick. When I get big enough to talk, I’m gonna tell her that Jesus doesn’t like it when she takes drugs. She must not know that he died on the cross for her and he gets very sad when she does things like that. It makes me sad too. At night, when Mama is “partying” I hear a lot of men’s voices. I wonder if one of them is my Daddy. They’re not very nice. They do things to Mama that I don’t understand.
I’m skinny. I think I should be fatter. Mama doesn’t eat much. She says that when she’s high, she just doesn’t have any appetite. When I get out of here, I’m going to eat at my Father’s Table. I’m going to eat so much that I’ll be full for a week! I don’t know who he is, but my angel does. He’s the one that told me that. My angel holds my hand. Sometimes, like yesterday, his eyes are sad. Why? How can he be sad? I’m about to start on a wonderful adventure! I want to grow up and help people. Someday, maybe I’ll be a doctor too!
Mama’s getting in the car now. I guess we’re going to the Women’s Clinic so I can be born. I’m so excited! I wonder what she looks like. Can she possibly love me as much as I love her? I can’t wait to put my arms around you Mama, and lay my head on your shoulder. I’m looking forward so much to having you teach me to brush my hair. To read the Bible, bake cookies and cherry pies. I’m gonna get you to show me how to put on make up and we can both wear yellow dresses with big brightly colored bows. I bet I’m gonna look like you, Mama. Maybe people will think I’m your sister instead of your daughter. Won’t that be funny?
Be careful driving Mama! Are you wearing your seat belt? I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially on my birthday. I love you, Mama! I’ll be coming out to meet you soon! I’m gonna take such good care of you Mama. I won’t let anybody hurt you like I hear them doing from here inside you. Me and my angel will protect you. I’ve got so much to tell you! When I can talk, I’m gonna tell you about Jesus! He loves you, Mama! He loves you so much! He loves you even more than I do. That’s hard for me to understand, but that’s what my angel tells me.
Well, we’re here. Mama’s parking the car. Why don’t we get out, Mama? You’re just sitting there behind the wheel feeling kind of low. It’s my birthday, Mama! What are you going to name me? Did you bring my car seat? Where’s our relatives? Where’s Ma-maw and Pa-paw? Where’s daddy? Who is daddy? Does he love me too?
Here we go! We’re out of the car, and we’re walking up the steps to the Women’s Clinic.
Wait a minute, Mama! All of a sudden, I’m scared. I don’t know why, but I’m scared! Get back in the car, Mama! Get back in the car! We’ve got to get out of here! I feel angels! Bad angels. Not like my angel. These are demon angels, Mama. I think they want to hurt us. Please Mama! Get back in the car. Quick! We can go someplace else. Take us to a church. Jesus will be there. He lives there. He’ll help us Mama. He loves us.
Mama, No! Don’t let them take you into the procedure room! Let’s leave, let’s go home. I love you, Mama. Why are we lying on this table? Where are your clothes? What’s that man doing? Why is he putting on gloves? Is he the doctor? He’s supposed to take care of us. I can see his soul. I’m scared of it, Mama! It’s laughing at us and he smells like fire and burning flesh. He doesn’t love us, Mama. Please help me.
What’s that noise? What’s that metal thing he has in his hand? Make him go away, Mama, Make him leave us alone! Where’s my angel? Help! Mama! Help! Oh Mama, he jabbed me with that metal thing, it hurts, help me, Mama, help———————–
soo sad. How do we do this millions of times everyday.