He called me “Mom”
Pleading with me in the words of an unborn child, the unborn child that is living inside me.
“Mom, Mom, Please don’t do this”
“You have options Mom”
“You’re not alone Mom, I can help”
He pulled up on a loud Harley, all black, wearing leather and blue jeans. I watched them arrive through the slats of the 10 foot privacy fence. They had signs as tall as them, dressed in winter clothing, steam streamed from their angry mouths. Wielding pamphlets and rosaries they shook their fists and heads at vehicles entering. Some of the vehicles had proud, strong women starting their shifts with a reminder of what they were fighting for. Some of the vehicles had scared women, that told no one where they were, they just knew they had made their choice. Some of the vehicles had young couples brave enough to know they were ill equipped but still shameful in their decisions.
But this man, standing on a concrete light pole base, his bald head peering over the 10 foot privacy fence was adamant in trying to change my mind.
“Mom, please, know you have options. Mom!”
“Give a minute to talk to you about the ‘because’, tell me how to finish the sentence, ‘It’s ok to kill my baby in the womb because … ’”
No matter what he said or what I saw, my only thought was, I don’t need a reason. I don’t need a “because” I just know I don’t want this for me, right now, and that’s OK.
