When I was fifteen years old I found my hot behind in a spec of trouble, I was pregnant. Well now my momma who wanted only the best for her only child decided that this child would not be born. Now back in the 60's abortion were not legal and you had to no someone who knew someone in order to get this done. Our family doctor, God bless his heart would not do this procedure, but he knew some folks that would.
The first doctor and he might not have been that, but I remember we had to go to his office after hours and we had to go through the back door. He performed his examination and it hurt like hell. Dr. Zoo (that’s what I always called him) told my mother that he wouldn't be able to do it because he didn't think I could take the pain. Our next stop didn't even include an examine, when I went it was for the abortion. I never will forget it. It was in an old apartment building in Long Beach, the building is still there today although I am sure the old lady is long gone.
She was an old Mexican lady and she gave me a cup of tea to "calm myself", she said. My momma couldn't stand to see me in pain so my godmother accompanied me this day. I was made to lie on a mattress on the floor and she proceeded to kill my baby. This was an inopportune time to have a child, but this child was wanted. The pain was so great that my godmother had to lie across my mouth to stifle the screams. After this procedure I was told to go home and wait for my child to die.
My momma brought me Bar-B-Que. and cake and ice cream, you know like this death was a celebration. Oh ladies listen when I tell you if I thought what Ms Lady did to me hurt it wasn't nothing compared to the pain as my male child exited my body. I thought I was gonna die and all of my insides where going to drop in the toilet as my now dead child did.
Now my daughter asked me why am I telling folks my business. Well for one thing it is a healing process and the other is a lesson, a point to be made. Within four months I was pregnant again. I now wanted something I felt had been stolen from me. I wanted a baby!
I know the exact date I became pregnant with my oldest daughter. It was October 31, 1966. When my momma found out I was pregnant again we talked about it and I let her know I would run away before I had another abortion! So she tried another approach, but the baby up for adoption. I went bananas! The adoption worker came out to the house to see me and I refused to even come out of my room. I was gonna have this baby if it killed me.
Well Wilhelmina, my momma was embarrassed that her child was expecting so she shipped me off to a home for unwed mothers. The house was located in a residential area in Los Angeles and there were between eight to ten of us living there at any given time. The lady that ran the house had 3 caregivers that stayed with us 24 hours a day. We had classes in the morning and then the afternoon and early evening belonged to us. We just had to be back by dinnertime if we wanted to eat. Now mind you this was a place that was suppose to take care of us and protect us. We pretty much did what ever we wanted to.
Ms Ginnie was one of our caregivers in the evening and she was about 60 years old. Once she retired to her room, the house was ours. We would sneak guys in the back room, but in order to get in they had to bring all of us food. The housemother kept all the cupboards and refrigerator locked. So we had to have food brought in to us. It was a good thing we were all pregnant or most of us would have been. One of the girls and my roommate had family that lived near us so we went to their house often and of course there were boys there also. So you kinda get the picture of how we lived.
I was a very defiant child and I caused my momma a lot of grief during this time. I started smoking in front of her and drank and got drunk, only once drinking wasn't my thang. I didn't like the way you felt the next day. During this time I contracted a kidney infection. The housemother took me to the County General Hospital and was told I needed to be hospitalized, she said I was just faking. The infection got worst and on the night my momma came to visit me I couldn't even get out of bed. The phone had a lock on it and she had to go to the public phone to call an ambulance for me. Needless to say she closed the house down. But this wouldn't have happen if she hadn't sent me away. More anger for me to deal with, cause I was way angry.
Anyway on July 23, 1967 I gave birth to my first daughter never imaging I would be haunted for years because of the abortion. This happen over 32 years ago and to this day I celebrate my sons (I no it was a male child) birthday every January this is the month he would have been born. My first born daughter ain't no joke. She is addicted to crack cocaine has lost custody of her four babies and dreams up ways to make my life hell as often as I allow her to.
I do believe in a women's right to choose to give birth or not to, but she needs to know God Ain't No Joke and the conciseness for our actions materialize in the physical plane effecting our lives today and tomorrow. My son should have been able to live because he's momma wanted him, needed him and misses him everyday. I have finally been able to deal with this and the healing as started, but I often wonder when I finally cross over will he be there and will he ask me momma why did you kill me. Or worst yet he was reincarnated in my oldest child and this is my payback for killing him. Because murder is murder no matter how you try to dress it up.