Maybe it won’t matter

I have had a recurring thought running through my head for several years now and in light of the recent New York abortion laws I decided to finally write them out. I am a nobody as far as the world is concerned and maybe my words don’t matter to a lot of people but I feel compelled to finally write the words that have been circling in my head for years. I never really had an opinion one way or another on abortion. I honestly didn’t really think much about it. But about 9 years ago I finally found  my reason against it. Here I was a mother of two boys. I had been pregnant 4 times. It’s easy to get pregnant. I mean how hard could it be...I did it 4 times already. But then I couldn’t. I couldn’t get pregnant anymore. My dreams of having a bigger family, of having a girl, not that I don’t adore my boys, were gone. I couldn’t make happen what so many others consider to be easy, no big deal. Then I began to see what a big deal it truly is. Creating life is a miracle. A God-like ability to give life to a cell that multiplies and divides and separates and creates eyes and ears and fingers and toes and a smile that can melt your heart. Maybe the problem with abortion laws is that women don’t understand the magnitude of the power they have. Maybe their scared. I know I was.  Maybe they take for granted something that comes so naturally to them they think they have infinite chances and possibilities. While many of us who never have or who no longer can create life long so desperately long to do the thing that so many are willing to destroy and kill. It is horrible and senseless to think we are just destroying a bunch of cells that don’t mean anything, they mean everything. We all came from the same process. We all grew inside our mother’s wombs. We were all given a chance to live. We owe that same obligation to anything we create whether by mistake or on purpose.  Life is a beautiful, fragile thing. Something I was guilty of not seeing clearly. But now that I do I feel I must be a voice. Life is precious. It’s the hardest job I have ever had to be a mother. There are days I wonder what a I have done. But the love of a child especially a sweet mama’s boy or two is worth all the pain and anguish and destruction of property and deterioration of my body and whatever challenges I face next because you have someone you love more than anything, even yourself. I am just one voice I know that what I say probably won’t be heard but I can’t be silent. Even if my voice compared to the world is nothing but a whisper.