• Carol

    I’ll sign the petition, but if that doesn’t work, I’ll move to Hungary. They have a New Constitution, which sounds better than our Old One, which seems to be obsolete due to Obamanations in the White House.

  • Babci Cathy

    Missed you…where’ve you been? I’ll sign the petition.

  • Donna

    I’ll sign it in honor of all of the women out there with all of the moving poems and stories that they have dedicated to their lost and neverborn.

    Ghost in the House
    Come, child. It’s evening. Come to me
    And sit with me once more.
    Let’s rock here while the others sleep.
    Let’s see — your sister’s four;
    The baby is three months today;
    Your little brother’s two,
    And I have not decided if I’ll tell them about you.

    And you, you would be eight this year.
    I do not know your name.
    The color of your eyes, or hair,
    Or where, or how, to blame.
    The fear was all, the fear of change,
    For I saw change as loss.
    Against my dreams, my plans, my life
    You seemed so small a cost,
    Not knowing how your presence
    Altered how I felt and thought,
    Not knowing how you changed me
    In the mix the hormones brought.
    And you were not a child to me
    But sickness, pain, and fear —
    But oh, I know, I know you now,
    Now that these three are here!
    Your scent, your weight within my arms,
    Your head upon my breast —
    I did not know these things when I decided what was best.

    And I am lost and so confused
    And don’t know how to feel,
    For you, who were an illness,
    Every year become more real;
    Your sister and your brothers,
    They proclaim you as they grow.
    They make it harder still to face
    The coldest truth I know:
    That knowing — feeling — only
    What I knew and felt back then,
    I cannot say I would not make
    This saddest choice again.
    Oh! My little lost unknown,
    My first and neverborn,
    Forgive the ignorance that sent you
    To the dark, unmourned!

    And no, it isn’t every day
    I find your shadow here;
    Most times I’m far too busy
    For reflection or for tears,
    But sometimes, when the children sleep
    And I have time alone,
    I sit down in the dark, and rock,
    And bring my baby home.

    Copyright © 2000 Amanda Lewanski. (Reproduced with permission.)

  • TLC

    The tide must turn. Abortion is such a barbaric choice, and we have for too long been brainwashed into thinking it is an acceptable choice.