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By @Madison
Sometimes
When my life gets hard
I wonder about my mother.
I wonder if she ever found herself in a clinic
Hidden behind an abundance of trees.
Did she make the decision on her own
Or was it someone else’s doing?
Was she sure of herself
If only for a moment?
I wonder if she ever found herself in a room full of other girls
Who, in some form or another
Had decided their own fates.
Did she care for them
As they left the building?
Did she hope someone cared for her
As she stepped into the back room?
I wonder if she ever found herself
In a cushioned chair
That swallowed her whole
As a doctor explained the mechanics of the procedure?
Did she get so far
As signing the waiver?
Did she feel herself getting nauseous
As she imagined the anesthesia
The pain she would feel afterwards
The ride home
With whoever would bother to drive her?
I wonder if she ever looked at a nurse
And uttered the words “I can’t do this.”
Was she just too scared
Or had she really changed her mind?
Was she sure of her choice
To have a baby
To change her life so much
And make it so much harder?
Or was it all a mistake
Leaving her like Cinderella
Fleeing the ball
Only to leave the remnants of her happy life
Behind?
I wonder
If she ever suspected
That the baby girl she birthed a few months later
Might end up in her shoes one day
Making a choice of her own
That just might send her down a similiar road.
Did she figure this out
When she was raising me
On her own?
Did she know for sure
When they took her in for questioning
And took me away
To go god-knows-where?
Most of all
I wonder if I’m just like her
When I sit up in that cushioned chair
And open my mouth.
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