The year was 1978; the year I was created. Five years after the legalization of abortion in 1973, a major decision almost killed me.
Day 21:
The darkness surrounds me; it engulfs me. The only visible light is a dim, pinkish glow at the ceiling of my lonely room. An unbearable chill touches my skin leaving me cold and bare. The only warmth I feel is the rush of blood from my heart to the rest of my body. I like that word: heart. I can feel it pounding in my chest. It has been forming for so long, and now it is capable of keeping me warm and cozy. I can hear small sounds through my hearing holes; these soothing sounds make me feel like I am welcomed.
Day 30:
New things are starting to appear for me. The pink glow is becoming more elaborate, lighting up most of the interior of my home. I can also hear that soothing tone more than ever. I have decided to call that sound "mommy". I cannot wait to see my mommy.
I often listen to the conversations mommy has between herself and her special friend, Tim. Tim seems very nice, and he makes mommy happy. I hope Tim loves me as much as he loves mommy.
Day 42:
I heard mommy cry today. It was awful. Although the sounds I hear are muffled, I could not bear to hear the slightest whimper mommy made. I cried with mommy so that she would not feel alone.
Before mommy started crying today, I remember a door close and a sudden shift in altitude as mommy dropped to a floor. I thought mama was sitting down, and then she started weeping. After a couple of minutes of sobbing, mommy stood up and called her best friend, Amy. They talked forever! I started to doze off in the middle of mommy's discussion, but I sure remember how it ended.
"What are you going to do, Megan?" Amy spat out after an awkward pause.
"I-I do not know. I just do not know what to think." Mommy replied.
"Okay, but remember, if you want to have a procedure done, or raise that baby on your own, just know that I will support you every step of the way." Amy reassured.
What does she mean by "procedure"? It does not sound pleasant. The word "procedure" makes me shudder.
Day 45:
I have not been able to think straight lately. Last week, mommy spoke to Tim in her pretty voice. She told him about me, but Tim was not too excited.
"What do you mean you are pregnant? How could this have happened?" Tim exclaimed with disbelief.
"I-I honestly do not know." Mommy answered.
Mommy and Tim argued for a long time. The last thing Tim mentioned to mommy was to get that "procedure" done. I really wish I understood grown-up talk.
Day 70:
I have not wanted to talk lately. I found out what that "procedure" meant. Apparently, it is called an abortion. Mommy's mommy, or grand mommy, revealed the term when they spoke of me. Mama said that an abortion was the only option even though grand mommy offered to help raise me. I was happy to know that grand mommy took the "non-abortion" side of the argument.
I hoped grand mommy could have convinced mommy to keep me. Supposedly, I am part of my mother's "body". I thought I was my own person, not some parasite. I am not expendable; I am a human being on life support. I heard on the outside world that people protect trees, birds, and the ocean. Why not me? Why does mommy want to get rid of me? I love her. Does she not love me? I do not want to leave; I just got here.
Day 74:
Today is the big day. Today is the day I die. I guess, unlike most individuals in my situation, I have come to accept what will occur behind clinic doors. I am scared, though. I am terrified. I do hope that something good will arise from my parting of this world. I want mommy to be happy, or at the least satisfied with her decision.
Right now, I feel mommy standing up; I think it is time to leave for the clinic. This entry will be the last entry in my journal. I do not want to go, but if my absence allows mommy to pursue her hopes and dreams, so be it.
My thoughts are clouded, not lucid. I cannot think clearly. The clinic feels cold and foreign. I hear my heartbeat in my head as I tremble with fear. A sudden swing in movement occurs as mommy lies down on an operating table. My fear escapes me. The product left behind from that fear is a sick feeling. My pink light has become brighter, but a shadow forms over it. The object that casts the shadow acts as if it is scanning me in mommy's tummy. I hear a familiar sound. It is a beat in sync with the source of my warmth: my heart. The abortionist is listening to my heart. Out of nowhere, a scream screeches through my barrier separating me from the outside world. It is my mommy.
"No! I do not want to go through with this! That heartbeat came from me; I created it! I will not kill my own flesh and blood."
The shift upward in my room lets me infer that mama is walking out of the clinic, saving me! I feel ecstatic, joyful, and grateful.
My mommy's revelation moment allowing me to live makes my heart feel super! My pink room feels more like a home than a deathbed!
Day 10477:
Yesterday was my 28th birthday. I cannot remember much about my birthmother other than that her name was Megan, which means "strong", was 17 when I was born, and that I was given up for adoption. My adoptive parents named me Ava which means "gift of life". I truly am grateful for my life. Without my biological mother choosing life, I, nor my daughter, Ella, would be here; Ella is my everything, and I cannot imagine life without her. I will never know why a woman would choose abortion when there are always other options. Every human being is endowed by his or her creator with certain inalienable right. Among these rights are LIFE, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Without life, no other right has meaning.
