After All, Mommy Loves Me

Abortion is a very sensitive subject, but I wanted to put this matter into a whole new perspective: the child's. I, in some way, anthropomorphized the child- a technique I used to get my point across.

Life is strange for someone like me. But it's a good life. Things change a lot within my little world, and it's beautiful. It used to be that I couldn't really do much, but now that I have hands and feet, I can do lots of things. I bounce around a lot, but I don't think my mommy appreciates it very much. She's my favorite person to listen to during the day. She talks to me all the time, and I know she must be beautiful because her voice is so tender and welcoming. She gives me food a lot so that my tummy doesn't hurt, and I even have a nice warm room to sleep in. It's dark, but it's okay. After all, Mommy loves me.

            I sleep a lot during the day. I know that it's daytime when I feel my mommy walking around outside. I look around the darkness, moving my small hands down to the thread of my life: the tether that holds me so dearly to Mommy. It’s soft in my hands, but it’s strong, capable of bonding Mommy and me together. Even though she’s out there, and I’m in here, this is our likeness. This is our connection. This is how Mommy knows I exist.

I hear a lot of noise, so I move to a better spot to hear. It must be my daddy. I hope he speaks to me today. He doesn't talk to me like Mommy does. I only ever hear him talk when he talks to Mommy, and I don't think he's very nice to her. I listen as they talk. I'm not sure what they are saying, but their voices are getting louder and louder. I can feel Mommy struggling. Suddenly, I am thrown back into the wall. Mommy is crying. I push myself up higher with my feet and rub my hands on the wall, pressing my forehead to it as I open my mouth to cry, but I can't. I squeeze my eyes shut and curl up, holding my hands to my chest as my heart thuds violently against it. Daddy yells for a little longer, and then everything is quiet except for Mommy's crying. Why doesn't Daddy talk to Mommy like Mommy talks to me? Mommy would never cry if he did.

            Mommy hasn't talked to me ever since Daddy made her cry, and my tummy hurts really bad. I move my feet against the walls of my simple room, hoping Mommy will feel that I'm still here. Surely she hasn't forgotten about me.  Nothing happens, though. It's so quiet. My head starts pulsing some, and I kick against the wall firmly. I hear Mommy now, so I do it again. And again. She finally starts talking to me, so I wiggle around in excitement. I can feel Mommy moving now so that means my tummy won't hurt for much longer.

            My little world is better when my mommy shares it with me. I've been in my room for a long time, and I’m almost too big to fit. Now that Mommy knows I’m here, she feeds me, and I’m not in pain anymore. She’s talking to me, and her voice quivers uncontrollably. I squeeze my eyes shut. Is it my fault she’s crying? I curl up against the wall of my cell, trembling some. Every time Mommy's sad, so am I. So I hold our bond in my hands, clinging to it firmly in hopes that she will feel me here, that I will make her happy.

Masses of time pass. Mommy is still sad, and I just want to hear her sweet, tender voice again. I miss hearing her laugh and sharing in her happiness. I fumble around a little for a moment, so Mommy must be moving. I wait to hear her voice. But I hear another voice; it's not one that I recognize. It's a voice like Daddy's, but it's not Daddy. There's lots of moving around, and I kick against the wall. Something isn't right. I press myself to the wall hard, my heart picking up speed, and I’m incapable of sitting still.

            All is quiet for just a moment. And then a loud, menacing noise comes from just outside my room. All at once, my warm room becomes very cold. I wrap my arms around myself and move away from the cold, stale air that’s moving in. My heart beats fast as I reach for the warm wall above my head. I'm yanked downward. I open my mouth to scream as I clutch the wall tighter, watching as this monstrous, black thing comes into my room. A searing pain moves up my newly acquired leg, and I try to kick away from the monster. But it grabs me and jerks me away from my wall. I wrap my hands around mine and Mommy’s thread, rubbing on it anxiously as the rest of me thrashes around against the pull of this relentless monster. I clench my fists and hold them against my pounding chest as pain courses up my back. And then I hear her. Mommy. Mommy's talking. She's still here with me, but she's not moving. I kick against the wall as hard as my weakening body is capable. Mommy doesn't move. I attempt to cry, trusting that she will know that this hurts and that she will make it stop. After all, Mommy loves me.

Reviews

[rickm97]

Absolutely incredible! I can't believe that you're only eighteen. I have very powerful, yet humble views about life and its sanctity, about things such as abortion and suicide. Life is full of hard choices, it is not always fun or pretty, and often times it is downright ugly and one can get lost within all of life's alternatives.
A very powerful story, indeed. Wonderful writing.
Take care of your own heart. Don't let life's bitterness taint your heart or your soul.
Sorry, enough preaching for now.
Write more stuff!

[Captain Rilen]

This is an amazing piece yet again, both beautiful and terrible at the same time. I like how you are completely in the moment your writing is and that yet, it still contains such powerful messages about you, and how you feel. The world is a f***ed up place and full of f***ed up people, be above that. Know that you are good, let it propel you forward. Also keep in mind people's histories, as they can be more complicated than you first anticipated. I sincerely hope your situation improves ( in regards to the metaphorical and physical aspects of this piece), and hope that you seek assistance from friends and family.

[Mia]

Thank you again, Kirk. Although I've never undergone and abortion, I know women who have, and most of the time, they regret it immensely. I am very much against abortion, but I did try to show the controversy withing the mother by using an abusive partner and her constant crying. I wanted to show that the mothers never have an easy choice to make, and I do feel terrible for them. I always try to remember that there are two sides to the story. Thank you for all of your reviews. I really appreciate it.

[Samuel Dickens]

You're eighteen? Wow, just wow. This is some powerful writing, and extremely well done. Young lady, you have the right stuff, I believe. On the subject, well, it's a radioactive one, isn't it? Like many political hot potatoes, I can see both sides of this issue. Problem is, our world can be a complicated one in which there aren't always easy, clear-cut answers to some things.

[Mia]

Thank you so much, Samuel. This made my night. Yes, I agree that there are never clear-cut answers to many things. What matters to me is voicing my own opinion so that I may never lose my own identity in a place where people are constantly trying to change others.