My child THANKED me. For not aborting him.
I know he was making light of the commercial he had just seen on TV, and I initially responded in kind. But then, the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. This is something that is difficult to put into words, but I am determined to try.
My children did not ask to be born. While I suppose there could have been a conversation between their cherubic forms and God, I was unaware. But they were wanted. I wanted them. Their father wanted them. So much so that we both underwent a total of four and a half years of medical treatments by some rather expensive specialists. We asked… No, we begged and prayed for them.
As a child born with hip dysplasia and a few additional complications, doctors told my parents they were uncertain whether I would ever be able to carry a child to term. In the spirit of “never give up,” my first child was born on his due date. My second, the day after his due date. No C-Section required.