The Graves of Two Aborted Children
A Little Story from Argentina
I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE BEEN CALLED YOUR SON
I came into being like fluttering wings. (the conception)
Now, I feel my heart beating, each time with more strength.
How beautiful, how wonderful!
Mommy, you give me everything I need.
If you could only know how happy I feel.
I�m not hungry because you satisfy my appetite.
I�m not sleepy because I rest during your dreams.
I�m not cold because you warm me with your body.
I�m not tired because you are carrying me.
I�m not worried because I know you are expecting me and waiting for me.
Now I can move my tiny arms and I think that one day I�ll hold you.
Should you ever need it, I will also be able to defend you.
And this makes me feel strong.
When I grow up, I would go even to the depths of the ocean to rescue you.
Nothing will be more important to me than protecting you.
No mountain will be high enough to keep me from adoring you.
But now, you give me everything and I am deeply in your debt.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
What�s happening, Mommy? Something is making me sleepy. (the anesthesia)
What�s happening, Mommy? Something is deep inside your womb
and I�m trying to avoid it. (the abortion tool)
What�s happening, Mommy? I�m afraid!
Mommy, it�s attacking me! Mommy, don�t let it hurt me!
Mommy, it�s pulling me apart! I�m in terrible pain!
Mommy!
Mom . . . . .
(This little story which describes the horror of an abortion was sent to the children's homepage by "Hilda", one of our Holy Hour prayer partners who lives in Buenos Aires. Here, it is translated into English. The original Spanish version appears on this site on the corresponding Spanish page.)
