Every. Little. Piece.

Abortion.

Dedicated to The March For Life and those unjustly imprisoned by a horrendous government for being Pro Life. And to a President who pardoned them.

Those in favor of abortion wonder how and when they lost support regarding pregnancy termination. Pro Choice became not just a political trigger, it became a platform. It became a way to win elections. It became a political cause to be fought for and because of this, it brainwashed masses of people and millions of babies are now dead.

These innocent little babes will never grow up. Never grow up to be a Democrat or a Republican. Never grow up to hug their mom. Never grow up to play baseball or buy a prom dress. Their absence on this earth creates a giant vacuum. Where they were supposed to live, nothing will ever live again. Where their hearts were supposed to beat, it is now silent as a tomb. What must God have said to that little baby when this little spirit arrived in heaven? Did He comfort them? Did He hold them and apologize for their poor excuse of a mother who had them ripped violently from her body?

We do not question the fact that Jesus held the innocent with love. His arms are the first and last that baby will ever know. Was that babe united with other relations that had passed away, despite the violent reason for arrival? Despite the fact the babe was not fully formed? Do we really think we know when the spirit and soul of who we are arrives into our body? Is it at point of conception? Is it at some point during gestation? Is it at the point of birth? Does it really matter? There is a human conceived that is no longer in play. Someone thought they had the right to make the choice to eliminate a soul from the human race. This choice was made easier BECAUSE the termination was paid for by The State.

The mother of this little spirit had the power and she chose the easy way out because she didn’t want to look her family in the face and tell them what had happened to her. And yes, it did “happen” to her. She did not have a choice. She thought she felt a little strange after that one drink and when she woke up with an unwanted man on top of her, she knew.

And six weeks later she knew. The yellow pages were filled with ads for “clinics”. It was a big city. There was no health insurance involved because then her family would know. Appointments were made and she was alone with no options or resources. But, The State would take care of her and it would all be a secret. She was only 18, but this was a gargantuan skeleton in her closet. She had nobody. She could have had many somebodies but the shame and guilt were too much for her lonely soul to bear. She had no idea there were 2 lonely souls inside of her.

The building was dingy, abysmal gray concrete with a sad brick half facade and there were steps with a painted pipe handrail and the paint was chipped off. She was alone in a poor section of the city. The room was yellow, the color of weak pee. The lights were chrome and bright. It was cold. Then there was a needle. She woke up on a “bed” only a few minutes later. A lonely soul, solitary, once again.

The procedure had terminated not just one soul, but part of hers as well. Inside her, where there once lived shyness and fear of disappointing, now lived withdrawal and the overpowering feeling of unworthiness. The procedure would scar her forever without ever leaving a mark.

When she held her newborn son in her arms eight years later, there was no epiphany. The pieces of her went on. A daughter was born to those pieces ten years after her soul was broken. Her spirit, deep inside, always knew why she was so glaringly tattered.

On the outside, without direct examination, she believed it was HER choice. Until that summer. She was a grandmother by now, and the parts of her lived on despite occasional pangs from a lost soul and her shattered essence.

That summer, her partner in complicity, The State, decided it was OK for extreme termination of an idea. The conception of a human. The extreme termination of a full term BABY. The murder of an innocent. Six weeks. Her choice. Quiet. Small. Just a blob, really. No consolation. Still a soul. But the conception that she could have carried that soul to term to have The State help her kill it was just too much to bear. If there are women SO lost they would consent to this murder, aided and abetted by government, they needed help. It tipped her over the edge into the Pro Life camp. All of her. Every. Little Piece.