Description: Honestly, since I'm 17, if I got pregnant, I'd abort the child within me. I'm adopted, and b/c I could not take on the responsibility of the child (not b/c I don't want to but b/c I couldn't), I would have to place that child in the position I had been. I would not want that at all. A child wondering who it belonged to, always having that lingering, homesick feeling as if something were wrong even when everything seemed just how it was meant to be...? No. I get that feeling when I'm with my crowd of friends or about to do something that I wish my real mother had been there to say, "I'm so proud of you! You worked so hard!" and throw her fat arms around me. I wouldn't want to bring a child into this world when I could not raise it with my own hands and work to have it grow and live. Pro-choice all the way. (But, please, know that I would never do this to a child. I couldn't. This was simply to affect the audience. Please).
Abort This Child! -------------------------------------------
I hold this new mistake in my arms
and swear it to be my last.
It breathes and cries and--
It squirms pathetically in my arms,
too weak to tell me "no"
or push away my cold fingers
from its warm cheek.
I hold its hand and stroke it absently,
my eyes catching the fresh life in my new burden.
My forehead bows without reverence to meet the clean flesh
Resentful tears fall fast and hard,
splashing into the blue eyes of this creature,
making it blink as it sounds the alarm of unsatisfaction
with lungs that hold more than my heart could for its existence.
"I didn't want you," I whisper just before the nurses arrive
As they leave again, I say,
"I don't love you."
And examine the papers.
I tear them to shreds, refusing the adoption
and wish I had thought of that other "a" word before it was too late...
I got caught in a ball of yarn that stretched 9 whole months
and unraveled my life.
"I don't want you, and I don't love you.
You are no child of mine!"
It takes only seconds before it stops crying,
before its small, weak limbs fall limp on the white bed
beneath my guilty pillow.
I blame the morphine and the nurses.
And regret does not find company
in my heart.
I was given up at birth and put up for adoption.
My view is that my mother made the best choice she could concerning both her future and mine. I believe it was a hard choice and took effort to follow through on.
You would rather condemn a child to your selfishness and self pity than give it a chance of a better life with humans who want to care for it?
Grow up before you breed, please.