My ex-wife had an abortion a few years before our son was born. She will not talk about it now, it still haunts her and she will tear up if she thinks about it. She had to. She really didn't have a choice. You see, my ex-wife has Juvenile Diabetes Type I. She got pregnant on accident an was not monitoring herself as well at the time and the pregnancy threw her Diabetes into over-drive. She was going into coma's. That's how we found out about the pregnancy. It knocked her into a coma by dropping her blood sugar into the 30's.
I remember the morning we went down to the clinic at UT to have the deed done. We had spent the week before talking to her Ob-Gyn and crying and all of the decision making we could handle. So, we are driving down the hill on 16th (?) street and there is a group of people standing in the middle of the road. I had no idea what they wanted. Our windows were rolled down as we slowed down so I wouldn't run over anyone. As we passed the yells began. "Baby-Killer!" "Murderer!" Peppered us. I was shocked, I admit it. It took everything I could do to take this wailing and crying heap of a human into the parking lot. I got her out of the car and walked her to the door where a nurse was waiting on us. She had seen what had happened. As soon as I passed K into the door to the nurse, my shock wore off.
You know what I am like.
The rage came. A few minutes too late in my opinion, but I'm not in jail now.
I walked back out to the car in the parking lot in full view of the mob of right winged ultra-christians and their judgement. When I opened the trunk of the car they knew that it was my turn to be judgemental. I had something to judge. I had something done to me personally. It was not a belief, it was not something that someone else told me. It had just happened.
I pulled the aluminum baseball bat out and it slid against the metal of the car as it came. I remember that noise. siiiiing. I turned around and started at a dead run towards the mob. They had already started running as soon as they saw me go into the trunk. Half of them were already out of sight and the rest were a full 30 yards away and on the move.
I knew that I could never catch up to them , but I was glowing red-hot with rage. I chased them anyway. I ran as fast as I could, but I could not catch them. I would have killed every single one of them. I would have painted the whole street red with their blood and grey with their brain matter. I would not have stopped.
I screamed, I slammed my bat against the pavement and then swallowed my rage. I had someone that was going through something worse than I, and I need to be there for her. So I walked back to the clinic and did my duty.
Everything else went as fine as it could that day. The deed was done and our hearts were damaged forever by it. I don't drive down that road. I don't want to meet what I left behind there. I don't want to meet a mob there, and not have timing work out against me. I never coughed that rage back up.
I understand their point, believe me. If there is a chance that it is life why even chance it. What I don't understand is why they do it the way they do. What I don't understand is why they even care. They didn't know us. They are the same type of people that would send my son to war with a nation of muslims to be killed. They are the same people that would burn a witch to death a few hundred years ago.