I have been starting to write and stopping, starting, then stopping a few paragraphs in... You know, blogging should be EASY for a writer. :) Sometimes it just isn't. I suppose at the moment, I put my fingers to the keyboard because after over a dozen years, I feel ready to summarize something that I've used a million unnecessary words to try and express.
I believe the greatest fear of birth-mothers (or mothers of aborted children) is that they will face the righteous anger - and all the more poignant shame - of mothers who DID want to keep their child and lost it.
One sentence packed with years of emotion for me.... and it's not one of those 'revelations' that I think I'll soon get over. Problem is, somehow I've learned to love several friends who fall into that 'righteous mother' (and I mean that with all gentility, respect, and love) category. And amazingly (I suppose only through the holy, MERCIFUL hand of God) not a one of them, even knowing my story with Gabe, have ever shown me anger.... at least not outwardly. To me, that is nothing short of miraculous.
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