It’s safe to say that on this day three years ago, I didn’t keep the baby. I know that this topic is a heated one for many and at one time it was for me as well. Coming to a decision like this is not easy especially if you are making it on your own. It has been an decision that I regret every day.
On this day I woke up with a heavy heart. I spent the whole night weighing the pros and cons before I decided that this was the “best” route to take. I got up, got dressed, and went to the bank. When I found out that we were expecting, I opened a bank account specifically for the baby. I divided a percentage of my funds between my son and the baby. My son’s college fund was already underway. It didn’t hurt to get a jump start on the baby’s. I withdrew the money from the account and closed it before heading to the doctor. By the time I walked out his office the deed was done and I was a different person.
I don’t understand how females can do this just because they don’t want to. I was able to hear her heartbeat and I still did what I did. I don’t know why I still refer to the baby as her. I suppose its more humane to say her rather than it. What I did wasn’t humane though. The pain and regret from that day follows me around endlessly. The pain that I felt during the procedure I hold onto it as a memory as to why I’ll never go back and have children. I know doing this and holding on is wrong but how could I not?
The child that I didn’t want after the rape I kept but the child that I loved endlessly I destroyed. No one can hurt me anymore than I can. I don’t know if what I did was the right thing anymore but at the same time I have to live with my decision. The fear that my father instilled in me trumped the life I carried. I was scared and I took the easiest, selfish route I could find. It’s the last thing on my mind when I go to bed and the first thing in the morning when I wake up.
I have yet to unpack the crates from the decision to move three years ago. I have yet to sort out the baby clothes and supplies. I never carried back the things I bought. I gave them to other expecting mothers. The crates… I put them in storage or packed them away in the back of the closet. I don’t like to deal with things and I don’t think this is something that I’ll ever be ready to deal with.
I write a letter to my child on this day. When I’m done I burn it on the candles I lit. Two white candles to symbolize how she would have been. One for forgiveness and another because it’s needed. I don’t even have it in me to write a letter this time around. Eventually you run out of ways to say sorry. There’s no going back or I’ll do better. There’s nothing left but an emptiness that swallows you whole.
My dream was to be a social worker or a teacher. I don’t even want to be that anymore. I wanted to protect children and make sure they didn’t give up in what they believed in. At the end of the day I couldn’t even protect mines from me.
Someone I loved wasn’t born today and that was because of me.
© Hikari Aie
Day One – Part Two: The Party
My Letter – Cannot Be