Counseling Sucks

So, we went to counseling after work today. I was already tired from not getting enough sleep. In fact, I can't seem to sleep even if I want to. I have a mild case of insomnia it seems. I'm also sore from flag football. I feel drained from being Mr. Friendly at work and my Readers haven't even shown up yet! And on top of all this, we had counseling tonight, and it was supposed to be a session in which I tried to explain some of the rationale behind my sexually addictive behaviors. Good times. Not. Maybe God-led times, but definitely not Good times.

So, we went. Over to Mary's house. Yay. We talked about doing individual counseling for our respective wounds and baggage. Not so bad. And then we transitioned into some of my addictive cycles and the thought process behind it. I felt attacked by Jessica. No, not exactly. It wasn't that she was attacking me. It was what she does quite often. In sharing her perspective on things, she stuck words in my mouth and attributed motives, rationales, and intentions to me that were false. She does this quite often, and very, very often in counseling. Many times, I just don't even have the energy to continue combating her barrages. It's not right. It casts me in not so much a bad light, but an incorrect light. It makes me angry.

Tonight, she was saying how I want her to look like a Victoria Secret model. It makes me so mad, because that's never what I've said. In fact, it's comments like that that inform me she hasn't understood much of what I've said that I want and need from her. Why try?? She's just going to twist my words and actions to fit the mold of her caustic view of life. She has no clue what I want from her. It makes me so mad. Why add anymore, because that's really the crux of the matter.

It wouldn't do much good to say what I need or want from her, because she'll just twist it. So, I'll just keep it. A time is coming when I will have had enough of her "I'm a frumpy, dumpy little fat red head" attitude. If she wants platonic in our relationship then I guess that's a good perspective to have, because I will not be physically or sexually attracted to her enough to have a good sex life. We'll just be married friends I guess with one of those way less than stellar and unsatisfying sex lives. Fine. Yay.

I don't care what she says. I am sick of being with women who've given the best of themselves physically and sexually to other men, and they want me to accept their lukewarm leftovers. Fuck that. I am not asking for a Victoria Secret model. Only that some girl would love me enough to look the best she's ever looked for any guy in her life. She seems to be content to just be short frumpy dumpy Jessica. It's the best she can do. Whatever. I'm so angry right now. I think next time she speaks that bullshit, I'm either going to tear into her or just have to walk away from the scene of her crime. What a bunch of shit.

It's Not Fair

Of course, I was just telling Jessica that not much in life is fair. It seems life is usually either unfairly against us, or even though we often don't acknowledge it, unfairly in our favor. Tonight though, I cannot sleep down here at her parents' house - the last night we have it to ourselves before her parents return. I woke up and tried to go back to sleep, but wouldn't you know it, those jealous and curious feelings were aroused for who knows why. So, I got up and looked.....

......For that journal of hers that we found while moving her stuff out of her EX-BOYFRIEND'S AND HER APARTMENT WHERE THEY LIVED TOGETHER. That spiral-bound notebook that I found in one of her boxes while moving her crap and that she got all riled up over the fact I wanted to read what she had written in it. That one. That same notebook with journal entries from her past before I knew her that might possibly be a key to knowing who she was and perhaps some of the answers to questions in my mind. That one. Oh, she told me shortly after telling me that I could look through it, that she had misplaced it on accident and couldn't find it. Yeah, it's not that I didn't necessarily believe her or that I don't believe her now. And by the way, I went rummaging through that mess of a room of hers where it's a combination of random clothes and laundry, noise-making bags, and other miscellaneous junk, and guess what I once again did not find? That spiral-bound notebook that she said she would let me read. Yeah, that.

So, how does this incident relate to unfairness? Well, mind you, it's not on the earth-shattering side of the Unfairness-In-The-World Spectrum, but it still tweaks, yea, even hurts me. Ever since we started dating seriously and opening up about our past and past relationships, there has been a highly unfair lack of balance in shared information. You see, from my point-of-view, I've been forthright with her about my past relationships, whether, exes women I've been interested in, women I've just known, etc. I've answered her questions openly even when it was uncomfortable. I think I've made it known abundantly clear to her through these months of dating that there is nothing she could ask me that I wouldn't try to give her a transparent answer about. When the situation is reversed however......

......well, that's a different story. From the beginning, it's been a tug-of-war to get answers from her. Whether she was/is aware of it or not, she stonewalled me at the beginning. I'd ask a question and she'd dance around it. If I asked her what her and so-and-so did while dating, she'd tell me what they did not do. Or she'd answer a less threatening question that I hadn't actually asked. Or she'd just plain forget details. In her self-revelations, there were oh-so-painfully long periods of silence. The only thing I can figure is she was trying to be extremely careful with her words and what she did or did not tell me. Finally......

.....she did start making a concerted effort to share with me some of the more sordid details of her relationships. But this was after she had already given me some vague and rather incorrect notions at times of the nature and details of those relationships. This left me even more dazed and confused, because what was I supposed to believe? The original stories or the amended stories??? And now that I'm thinking about it, another tactic of hers whether unbeknownst to her or not I do not know - it was a tactic nonetheless - when I'd ask questions that threatened her, she'd get hostile with me and turn the tables around. Many, many times a conversation that had started out about her exes and her degenerated into a conversation about my exes and sordid past, or accusations that I was taking digs at her or basically calling her a slut or whore. But that was more in the beginning and not so much in the latter half of our dating relationship. So, it's in the past and is in her words, "old S--t". Maybe for her, but since a lot of these things still remain to be resolved in my mind, it's present and festering current "s--t". So........

.......we're left with the present situation. A few months ago, we sort of made an agreement to drop the discussion about exes and past relationship junk until we got a place of our own with some privacy where we could share, listen, fight, and hurt without our families being privy to all our baggage issues. Well, for the most part I've stuck with that. As for her, not so much. Every now and then, one of my exes will pop up on the radar via text, email, IM, etc. And then we must have what is usually a somewhat painful conversation for the both of us. At DRC, I'm working right now with a woman I tried to date and messed around with sexually. This is a slap in the face to Jessica and truly I don't think I'd handle it as calmly as she has - at least she is usually calm on the outside about it. But all these things considered, I often feel like my stuff comes up in conversation while the issues that bug me about her past remain undiscussed. I guess there's unfairness on both sides at the moment. Some things are popping up in the present that she must deal with and discussion about her past remains unresolved in my mind. But......

.....that doesn't make me feel like life is any less unfair in this regard. Two unfairnesses don't make things all even, at least not in this scenario. Even when we do, if ever revisit her past, she can continue throwing out the "I don't remember" card. Since we've dated, emails between her and Jay mysteriously disappeared the day I was looking at her email, before I had a chance to view them. Photos of her and her exes mysteriously have vanished. That journal went MIA. Actually more like missing-in-inaction. Whatever. She will do more word-picking with long excruciating periods of silence. She'll do more answering of questions in the negative. Instead of telling me the answers, she'll tell me what are not the answers and leave for me to fill in the blank spaces. Probably if she goes through with counseling, her counselor will tell her to let the past stay in the past and that I need to learn to accept her as she is without trying to pry up old buried bones. Maybe. Maybe I'll be surprised. But regardless, I seriously doubt I'll ever get the answers I'd like to have, even if they hurt. Take for instance.....

.....my suspicions of her relationship with Shayne. Although I've tried to find out what the nature of that relationship was, she'll never tell me. I'll tell her my conclusions I've drawn, and she will merely not deny them. She'll never open up about it. She just leaves me hanging indefinitely. "So, from what you've told me it seems like your relationship with him was pretty much just about the sex. Anytime you'd get together with him, you two would f--k." Silence. . . . . . Followed by some cryptic statement such as, "We didn't have much in common. I didn't like myself back then." Oh, thanks, that's really helpful. I will copy that quote down for my files. I can really take a lot from that one. Yeah, right. So it's not fair.

It's not fair that I have to live in this perpetual - what is that place between heaven and hell - oh, purgatory. With regards to her past, I feel like I'm in a hellish purgatory. It stinks. It sucks. And the longer this goes on, the more I fight sentiments of resentment towards her for putting me off. There's always some excuse for not addressing my questions and curiosity and jealousy. Sometimes, I find on the drive home to her parents' house, if there is long silence, my mind wanders onto her exes. What pain! And then she will start cracking jokes because she sees the serious, morose look on my face. Or she will not say anything at all. Maybe it truly is that she is tired. If so, I apologize. I may be wrong. I often am. Wrong or not though, it doesn't change that ill feelings are building up in my day-by-day, week-by-week, month-by-month. With each passing month.....

......I wonder if I'm growing more distant with her for this, and perhaps a few other reasons. That can't be good for the health of our relationship. Not at all.

And by the way, I think it's a crock of s--t that a stupid spiral-bound notebook should and could just go completely missing in a bedroom that one is living in. I can't compete with the vagaries of her mind and the sub-conscious forgetfulness on her part. It's just not fair that she can conveniently forget such things. What am I going to say?? That she's lying?? Well, maybe her sub-conscious is lying. But sometimes the sub-conscious is so convincing that our conscious selves begin to believe it. So, I can't win. She will always be able to hid things from me and then fall back on her bad memory for unpleasant things she'd rather forget. And the spiral-bound notebook will just continue to stay missing, as will transparent answers to my questions. It's not fair.

Memorial Day and a Peek into my Brain.....Ugh

Memorial Day weekend. Supposed to go up to Lori’s family’s cookout this afternoon. Meanwhile, I’m in my comfy Pillsbury Doughboy pants and a sweatshirt and somewhere in the recesses of my mind, little imps are trying to conjure up some sort of rationale for not going up so I can just stay here and relax the afternoon away. I can’t see them, but I can feel them feverishly working up there in the caverns of my brain.

Well, I’ve had a lot on my mind these last few weeks. Lots of internal struggles going on, but like so often happens, when I don’t get the thoughts on paper quick enough, it’s almost as if they calcify in my mind. There was some pretty nasty junk going on, so I’d say I really need to work at chipping that crap away. Sort of a mind enema. Nice visual there.

I know I’ve been struggling with this chick from work — the infamous Brandi — my job situation and concerns relating to that, my financial situation, my social life or lack thereof, family tensions just from living in such close quarters with them, wanting to get out on my own again. Those would be the big ones that I can think of. Oh, and of course, in a grander view, my relationship and struggles with God, my Father take all those in and more.

I’m just coming out of a 2 or 3 week tailspin in which I was running from God and his direction. I think I’m back on the path with Him, but I can never be too sure it seems. I hit one of those crossroads a couple weeks ago that I seem to come to every year or two. It goes like this:

“Hey, I’ve been being good and trying to trust God with my life, and I’m getting nothing from Him to show for it. I’m trusting Him with my relationships, finances, job situation, all this, and look where I am. I don’t see any changes. My life is still in the crapper. I’m poor, struggling to eke out a living, I’m single without a hope of a relationship anytime soon. In fact, the one girl I did have my eyes on has turned out to be a bust. I’m living in my parents’ basement, I go to recovery groups, in fact, my best friends sometimes seem to be those guys in those groups. What’s up with that??? Well, I’ve given God His chance to come through for me, and once again, I’m seeing nothing from His end. All that talk about giving me the desires of my heart and an abundant life—well, I’m not seeing it. I can only live off the fumes and invisible platitudes of peace and joy and contentment and patience for so long. Eventually, I want a decent job, income, a woman, sex, a family and kids. I’m not seeing any of that—not even off in the distant horizon! So, I’ve given you your chance once again God. Now, it’s my turn to take control. If you aren’t going to come through, at least if I do it my way, I can get a little of the life I’d like to someday have. I’m outta here!”

Something like that. I’ve been in this place many times before. This time though, even though I wanted to turn my back on Him and get while the gettins’ good, I just don’t think I can. I know the rewards for disobedience to Him. I’ll have some fun, but a lot of guilt and shame and heartache. I will kick myself for doing wrong. I’ll waste another year or two of the precious life I have. As much as I dread God not coming through for me, I don’t want to pay the price of disobedience to Him again. So, I’m trying to choose Him and not look back or second guess myself. Put those flesh-inspired thoughts out on the curb of my mind for the trash to pick up later.

Wow, there’s a lot going on in my mind right now. Little imps, caverns, calcification, enemas, and now scheduled trash pick-up. No wonder I feel overwhelmed at times. It’s a wonder my neck can hold my head up it’s so heavy at times. Well, if you look at photos of me, my head is usually leaning to one side. Must be an imbalance in my brain. Maybe a beer would even things out up there. Boy, that sounds good right now.

Ugh....

I'm so frustrated with women in general now. They are a pain in the butt, and yet I still want to sleep with them. What a quandary. Ugh.

I Miss Her....

I miss my daughter. I know, I never even got to meet her, but I miss her nonetheless. She's my daughter that I never got to meet. Oh God, where is she?? I want her back. I can look back on my past and think about decisions and actions I could've done differently, and my little girl would still be here, alive and well and growing and being loved. On days like today - Mother's Day - I really hurt.

It hurts and angers me all the things those closest to me do when I talk about her. I get patronizing looks and words from friends, family and acquaintances. I have friends - christian friends - who try to offer me words of comfort at times, all the while holding their unspoken opinions that somehow it's a woman's right and privilege to kill her unborn child. The very ones who are held up as having the greatest love on earth - a mother's love for her child - are the very ones who will insist it's their God-given right to kill their unborn babes, as if their convenience and lives are more important than that little child they carry. Even the girl from work that I'm so interested in has flat out said to me that she doesn't think my child was even a real human. What am I even doing trying to get to know her??? I'll never be with someone who feels that way.

I had a friend who was on the verge of spitting out some really mean words about my daughter or about me not really being a father, when she bit her tongue before saying it. But I pretty much knew what she was going to say. She didn't have to say it. Some things you just know. It hurt. I try to forgive those who are so calloused and evil in their views, but it's difficult sometimes, especially when it comes from those you've trusted.

Sometimes I wonder how life might be right now if I only wouldn't have been too selfish to just stay down in Florida when Lina came along. How might that have changed things? I kick myself at times for not making the decisions that might have saved her life. A few different choices on my part, and she would've been with her Mama today celebrating Mother's Day with her perhaps. What have I done?

I've tried in the 2 years since it happened to share with family members what it feels like. It's almost never a good experience. With the exception perhaps of my Dad and Mom, it's like my daughter just doesn't count. She just wasn't real enough. No headstone at a cemetary, no nothing. Just the emptiness of knowing she was inches from my hands and face at one point, but then gone. Sucked out of her Mommy's tummy and then her twisted and broken little body thrown in some biohazard waste can, to be incinerated somewhere along the line. Thrown out like the cigarrette butts tossed on the ground. How can anyone say she wasn't a real person when she had little hands and feet, a face, a brain, a heart, eyes, ears, nose??? How can they say that???

My little girl, I miss her. I don't really care that I'm repeating myself over and over. This blog has become where I go when I grieve her death. The people that I am willing to share this part of my life with are few and far between. It's the rare person who actually seems to acknowledge her realness and the legitimacy of my pain. Why? Why God?

Empty cliches, glossed-over looks, calloused words, hateful words towards her. This is what I receive when I mention her too often or in too much detail. She just doesn't count in this world.

But she does to me. And I miss her....

Revisiting my thoughts of Lina

I was opening up a Word document just a few minutes ago, and my eyes fell on this - letter, essay, I'm not sure what to call it - that I wrote back in November of '06 about my little girl. I just reread it, and I have to post it here again...I had posted it back when I wrote it in November as well. It is good for me to revisit some of the grief and hope and joy I have when I think of Lina. So, here it is, more for my eyes and thoughts than for anyone else who might happen to read it. I love you Lina, and I can't wait to see you and hold you!



Little Lina

I was thinking about my Little Lina on my drive home from work tonight. Something on the radio got my mind on her, and for the first time in a long while I allowed myself to dwell on my little girl and how much I miss her and some of the things I really wish I could be doing with her right now and in the future.

I asked God why He didn’t save my little girl. I talked with Him about the things I wanted to do with her. I wanted to be holding her, gazing into her precious eyes. To give her a bath, to take a bath with her and play with her in the water. To watch her little face light up when Marshall would walk up to her and let her pet him. To see her eyes grow big as she felt the texture of the cats’ and dogs’ fur. To see her jump startledly when Jinengi would bark! I wanted to rock her to sleep, to feed her a bottle, to change her clothes. I wanted to show her off to my friends and family. I wanted to growl at her when she would get into mischief and watch her try and butter me up to turn my scowl into laughter at how cute she could be. I wanted to watch my “Little Linastelle” wrap me around her cute little finger.

I have to admit, no matter how precious she was, I can’t see myself ever “wanting” to change her nasty diapers, but I’d have done it because she was my little girl. God knows that when it came right down to it, as much as I didn’t want to live in Florida, I would’ve moved down there and spent the rest of my days in that horrid, humid state if that’s what it took to give my daughter a good home and relationship with both her Mama and Papa. I would’ve tried my best to get her mother to move up to Cincinnati where I thought Lina and her brother, sisters, and Mother would’ve had a better life away from all the crap I saw down there in Kissimmee. It broke my heart just to see her brother and sisters in that environment. I’ve told God He knows my intentions were good for Baby’s Mama and siblings. I’ve told Him and He knows I wouldn’t have deserted them up here if they’d have moved here—no matter how things turned out between her mother and me, I would have held her in honor both in my heart and to my daughter if for no other reason than the fact she was Lina’s Mama. And if it came right down to it, I would’ve moved to Florida and left all behind up here—including flying—if that’s what it would’ve taken to be with my little girl and raise her and let her know she had a Daddy who loved and cherished her. And I truly don’t believe there would’ve even been any hostility or animosity in my heart towards her Mother for it (well, maybe a little bit ~ I do despise the weather down there after all). I would’ve been too enamored with my little Lina Estelle and watching her grow up to be feeling sorry for myself or angry at having to live in a foreign place the rest of my days.

Oh God, I’d have loved her and cherished her! She was my little girl! I wanted to see her so much! I have often said to others or to myself, “I miss her,” as if she and I had actually been together at some point in time. I remember feeling and looking at her Mother’s tummy in wonder and awe that just a few inches from my hand was my little Moo-Moo, later to be named Lina Estelle, when I learned “he” was a little girl. I always knew she was a girl. And when I think of her, Oh, God, I have this picture of her, how much she looked like her Mama! Oh the little cutie! I asked God why He didn’t save her!
I don’t know why He didn’t save her. I know He could have. And yet, for once, I don’t think I’ve ever been mad at Him or blamed Him for my daughter’s death or my pain. I trust He had His perfect reasons for not intervening, though it cause me and others pain in the here and now. But how I do miss her! See, there I go again with that “miss her” stuff. She was the gift I had taken from me, and will have to wait a little longer to receive. I told Him that I hope in Heaven He allows us to raise our children, those of us who have lost them before they were supposed to go in this lifetime. I want so much to see her go from tiny, tiny newborn babe to little toddler, to Daddy’s Little Girl, to bratty teenager, to beautiful young woman, and so on. I hope He gives me this someday in the next life.

Well, there is so much more I have in my heart about my little girl. I do miss her and want to be with her. Thinking about her is sad, but in another way, moments like this when I allow myself to come close to my grief and touch it for a little while—these moments are special to me.

I thanked God as well for the change in my heart that He brought about as a result of Lina’s life and death. I don’t understand His reasons for allowing her to die, but I see how He’s used it to change me. My actions don’t always reveal it, but my heart has changed towards him. Even when my actions don’t support it, I know in my heart I want to be with God, to please Him, to know Him, to live my life with Him. My heart is more tender and allows more grace for myself and others because of what He’s done through Lina.

I reread what I’ve written and it appears I’ve repeated some of the same things over and over again. But it’s like no matter how many times I say I miss her or love her or want to be with her—no matter how many times I tell God how sad I am or how much I hurt over her—I can never say it enough to express how deep I feel those things in my heart. I MISS HER! I WANT HER! I LOVE HER! I WOULD’VE CHERISHED AND GIVEN MY LIFE FOR HER THE REST OF MY DAYS! MY DAUGHTER WOULD’VE BEEN A BLESSING TO HER MOTHER! SHE WOULD’VE SEEN ONE OF HER CHILDREN HAVE A LOVING RELATIONSHIP WITH HER DADDY AND she would’ve known what it was like for once to experience one of her kids’ Daddies putting the children and the Mama ahead of his own selfish interests. I WOULD’VE BENT OVER BACKWARDS TO MAKE SURE LINA HAD HER MAMA AND HER BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN HER LIFE! Lina would’ve been a blessing to all around her. And instead of Lina being a child of grief for her Mother, this would’ve been one child she could actually spend time enjoying raising and watching grow up because she wouldn’t have to do it alone or be at odds with her Daddy. Lina would’ve been her child of Joy in ways that she wasn’t able to experience with the others. Lina would’ve been a blessing to her brother and sisters. She would’ve been ornery and spoiled (because of her Daddy), but they would’ve loved her anyway! She would be too cute for them to resist! And little Ni-Ni, one would think that as much as Lina would’ve had my eye, that I’d forget Ni-Ni. But no, I know in my heart, little Ni-Ni and Lina—they would be close and they’d each occupy a knee to sit on my lap as they grew up and vied for my attention! No matter how much I might love Lina as my daughter, the rest of that bunch, they would always know I loved them as well, in whatever capacity I was allowed to love them.

I know all this sounds corny, but I think this stuff must’ve been brewing inside me for a long time. These are things that I guess I’ve thought for a long time, and I’ve probably said all this to God and others at different times, but I just felt like saying it all again. He knows how much I loved her, as imperfect as I am and would be as her Daddy.

Well, it’s late and I know this isn’t a very eloquent ending to this memorial to my daughter, but I need to get off here and go to bed. I miss you soooo much, Linastelle!!! I love you and my heart cries and breaks over you. I will see you one day and hold you my precious little child.

My Brother's Baby

My brother's girlfriend is pregnant and scheduled to get an abortion this Friday. My heart aches on so many levels. I hurt for Brent - I know the pain of losing one's only child. I hurt for Jill - I honestly don't know if she's having problems with killing her flesh and blood child, but I hurt for the pain and grief and guilt she is sure to feel down the road. Granted, the doctors have said that with her diabetes she is not healthy enough to have the child and that the child may have awful health problems if born. All that being said though, the child is still Brent and Jill's flesh and blood son or daughter. They will always grieve over the death of their child. I hurt for Mom and Dad, especially Dad - they have 5 grandchildren, 3 of whom they've never even met. Two died from abortion, and one from miscarriage. I know it grieves them to have so many grand-children, yet they are not here for them to enjoy. I hurt for myself - it grieves me to see another little child in our family die so prematurely and perhaps unnecessarily. At the very least, a violent, humiliating death. As for Ashley, Tamara, Jill's family - I have no idea what they all feel.

I'm sad.....

Another little life snuffed out. The baby is the lucky one. They don't live to see the aftermath and fallout from the poor choices that were made leading up to it's death.

Who will dare say that a child is not deserving of the protection of it's life? Who will dare say they are a christian, in love with God, and yet, in the same breath, say it's a woman's right to destroy her child? Who will rationalize and pretend that somehow that living critter inside Mommy's tummy is not a baby?? Rationalize how we want to, in our hearts, we know better. Who will say that the government should not protect those little babies because it might interfere with a woman's "rights"??? What about a woman's, a mother's responsibilities to care for and protect her offspring??? Does anyone say that a man, if he didn't consent to the woman getting pregnant, should be free of his obligations as a daddy?? No way! And what about little baby's right to live??? Does anyone care about that??

I'm sick of hearing the hypocrisy of people - of christians especially - who somehow attempt to defend the unholy, ungodly, abomination of murdering one's own son or daughter! They say, "Oh, I believe it is wrong and I would never do it, but I can't impose my beliefs on another woman to do what she wants with her body." Or that, "The government doesn't have the right to tell a woman what to do with her own body."

What about a government's responsibility to protect human life??? Who cares about that??? What about the sacredness of a fresh, innocent, clean little unborn child??? Who will defend him or her? You would think that of all people it would be mothers. But no, it's women who proclaim their "right" to kill their children!

Yes, I'm sure some who might stumble across this would throw out the needle in the haystack scenarios of the mother's health - like my brother's girlfriend - or of rape or incest. Yes, yes, yes, we all know those situations can and do occur. But they are the exception. And when they do occur, well, maybe we could all sympathize if someone made a choice to kill their child. I know I could, even if I think it's the wrong choice. If I was a mother and my life was at stake, I would hope I'd have the courage to die so that my child may live - after all, isn't a parent supposed to be willing to sacrifice their life if need be for their child's??? But even as I say that, I know I'm human and weak. I may choose my life over my child's in the heat of the trial even though I know it's wrong. I hurt for Jill. What an awful choice to have to make. If she spares her child's life, she may die, or even worse, her child may be horribly handicapped and sick. If she takes it's life, she lives with that the rest of her life.

Still, though it has struck my family, is that any excuse to give official credibility to the disposal of our children? Would any parent say that the government should not protect their 3-year old, their 10-year old, or their 17-year old? Then why say it should not interfere with the murder of a baby who has been alive for 2 months inside it's mother's womb?? Anyone, especially a christian who would say otherwise is a hypocrite and needs to look at their beliefs and motivations.

I cannot say that I would always do right if given the option to do wrong. When I was first told by my ex that she was pregnant, I freely admit that the abortion "solution" seemed quite attractive. And it was only after praying and crying to God, and confessing to friends that I accepted that my life had forever changed. And only after all that, did I truly want to see my child born. I so empathize with people in that situation because I've been there. But neither my weakness nor anyone else's changes what is right and what is wrong, what is good and what is evil. Abortion is evil!

Murder is evil. Fornication is evil. Using people is evil. But somehow most of us seem to feel a more violent outrage when evil is perpetrated against a child. Even God seemed to feel that way. All through the Old Testament, God spews His anger and outrage over the sacrificing of children to false gods. The only difference today is that instead of the god being "Molech", it's the god of convenience, or partying, or career, or anything other than a desire to raise that little child God has blessed them with. How dare any of us, christians especially, try to say a woman - or a man - has the right to destroy that precious little life God has miraculously and lovingly formed! Shame on anyone, including myself, if we dare think otherwise! Shame!

I am angered and in pain and grief over what my family, as well as Jill and her family will go through because of this evil. Oh that we would turn to God!