The other day, I was folding clothes in the living room and watching the eternally obnoxious chicken heads on the television show "The View" peck each others eyeballs out. (No, I don't always watch this show, but when you have 5 channels, and it's 11:00 am, your options are limited. Why do you think I am such an avid blogger? Yep. Little to no TV, baby!)
So, there I was, folding clothes, watching smutty/gossipy/political junk, when something funny happened. I was turning one of the hub's shirts right side out, and flipped it (really hard) to get some folds to shake out of the bottom of it, when my hand lost grip, flew off, and smacked (we are talking POW! WHAM! smacked) into my belly.
Baby Bob just about jumped right out of his skin (and MY skin for that matter...). My belly exploded into a series writhing, wriggling, frantic movements. It was as if B.B. was saying "What the heck is going on?!" or "What did I do?!!!" It made me laugh. (Like really hard.)
And then I was crying. (Ah, the emotional roller coaster of pregnancy. Joy.)
I was crying because it hit me (again) that there is a person in there.
A real person who is going to join and bless my family.
A person.
Not an embryo.
Not a fetus.
Not some "thing" that is fully expendable or disposable until he draws his first breath.
A person.
With feelings, cognitive abilities, and yes, as the weird girl on "Juno" so eloquently brought to our attention, even teeny tiny fingernails.
I'm so tired of people putting medical-ish labels on them to try and justify their slaughter.
I just am. Sorry.
Baby Bob is a real person.
He would still be real even if I didn't like his father.
He would still be real if his father was a good for nothing jerk.
He would still be real if "I didn't mean for this to happen."
He would still be real if I was 15 years old.
He would still be real if I thought that I couldn't get pregnant while on my period.
He would still be real even if I was foolish enough to sleep with a skeezy jerk without the aid of all of the readily available birth control/protection/prevention options that are out there.
He is a REAL person.
You wanna know how I know?
I scared him.
I startled my baby.
I don't think that you can startle "things."
(Give it a try. Sneak up on a dining chair and scream "Boo!" or something...or you can just take my word for it.)
{See that ski slope nose and that puffy, pouty top lip that is just like his big brother's? My oh my, I think we just might have an actual human being on our hands...even clear back at 17 weeks gestation... Fancy that...}
When I look at Kortland, and see the person that he is, and the funny things that he says and does, I think to myself: HE IS A PERSON.
When I think of my opinionated little self, and the thoughts, fears, and indescribable joys I feel on a daily basis, I think to myself: I am a PERSON.
And guess what?
I got here the same way those of you reading this got here. I was a tiny little embryo, then I was a fetus, then I was outside of my mother, but I was ALWAYS a human being. From the moment of conception, I was a being of limitless power and potential, and so were you. So is and was every single embryo that has ever implanted in any uterus since the dawn of time.
We talk of choice, but what about the choice to not get pregnant in the first place? Seriously. I know that this argument is probably getting really annoying, but c'mon. It's not exactly rocket science. Look over the THOUSANDS of contraceptive options and pick ONE! (Heck, pick two.) But don't tell me it's your right to murder a baby just because the consequences of your actions aren't convenient for you.
And I'm not saying that you should keep and raise the baby. Not saying that AT ALL. Heck, if you didn't even want a baby in the first place, why not place him/her with someone who is desperate to love and cherish a child that their body can't produce on their own...no matter how much they wish it could? Why not?
If the sperm donor of your unwanted child is a horrible, selfish, irresponsible person who won't be able to adequately love a child, why not place that child with a woman whose husband has been ACHING to dote on a child for YEARS on end? I guess I just don't get why that would be such a bad thing for the child... I mean... DEATH and the snuffing out of infinite potential, or placement with a loving family...hmmmmm, decisions, decisions.
So, yeah.
There it is.
I guess I just felt like I needed to speak for my baby, who is very real indeed.
It turns out that the Obama Administration just OK'd the first TAX FUNDED (meaning paid for by you and me) abortions under the new health care law. (You can click on that link to read the full article.)
This may be something of an understatement, but I'm sort of not okay with this.
I'm pretty sure that I'm not comfortable paying money into a system that is going to turn around and use said money to murder babies. It's not something that I want to have any part of really, and it's something that I feel we should be vigilant about, as I know that many of you feel the same way. Politicians are sneaky, slimy little buggers, and it turns out that Obama tends to follow suit. (For the record, I've never met a high-ranking politician that I liked... Republican, Democrat, or otherwise. It seems to me that the process of coming into positions of political power manages to taint them...every one.) But Obama trying to sneak my tax dollars into clinics that kill babies...? Well, that's a new low that even I am struggling to wrap my head around.
*It should be said that this post and my stance on abortion does not extend to include women whose pregnancies are life-threatening to the mother, OR women who are pregnant as the result of a sexual assault.
