Another Morning at Fairmount Clinic

Ever since last weekend, I've thought so constantly about the women I spoke to there, and the women who were silent. I know it is by grace that I wake up and go to sleep each day with an intense feeling of love and concern for them.

Early, early, baby Toby and I climbed out of bed. After the routine rush to take care of the animals and the trash and all those little things the morning begs of me, I finally got my massively coat-bundled child out the door. Toby was whiny about the restraint of his car seat as usual, so I didn't waste any time on the road. Still, the thought of women walking to the doors of the clinic was enough to make me hurry. When I arrived at about 8:30, Mrs. Lowery and two older men were leaving. So, it was just me and Toby. We paced the sidewalk many times.


I am so glad that I took some of the literature with me to keep in my bag, because I used it. I sang, and I prayed. For the most part, I saw more weak-looking women coming out that going in. They were friendly about taking my literature. Maybe they weren't so intimidated by a group of people descending on them, as it may have felt last weekend with the Clinic Support people waging a battle against us. Either way, they seemed tender, broken, and about ten women smiled at me with such a deep appreciation and a most terrible pain... Oh Lord, the pain in those eyes... I recognized the way one woman limped from the birth center; I've seen it in weak, sore women who have just delivered babies. Only, she limped in pain for another reason. Lord have mercy on us all.

Well, there were two young African American women coming up the sidewalk. I asked if they would like any information about help.
"Uhh, I don't know," one girl said, as much to herself as to me.

"It's free. You could receive financial assistance, too, if you need it. Help with adoption?"

She started to shake her head, and I shrugged. "You're making a big choice, right? Information can't hurt."

She bit her lip and reached out her arm to me. I was sitting on the brick sidewalk ledge with Toby asleep in my arms.

"This is the name of the pregnancy center I went to," I explained, pointing to the address and phone number, "They're good."

"Thanks," she responded, turning, opening the leaflet while the friend wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

By eleven, the friend walked outside and made a quick call on her pink cell phone. I called out to her, "How is she?"

I learned that the girl was sitting there in complete agony about her decision. Parents unsupportive, significant other hostile, finances tight... Well, then suddenly, this friend just started pouring her heart out to me. "It's really funny, you know?" she asked, looking down at Toby, "It's really funny to think that we were both pregnant a few months ago and now you have this baby and my baby is in Heaven." I looked at her, giving her the opportunity to go on. "See, I had an abortion at 22 weeks, and I even had to go down to Houston for it."

She stared off, far away. "It's harder for us. Your men are there for you. Our men, they don't want to stay, to get married. I don't know why. I thought I was going to break the curse. Maybe my man would stay with me and my baby. Yeah right. He was so gone. My granny don't care, she was just yelling at me. My parents think I'm just a kid, and I'm 20. Look, I became a mother and I was still a kid to them. And now I'm not, and I'm still a kid. There isn't anything I can do to be right in their eyes. I dress my mom's kid every morning and help her so much and I'm still just a child.

"Did you know abortion is the popular thing these days? I waited for three hours to see the doctor after... after it... because there were sixteen women ahead of me. I know you probably have information about adoption, but I could never do that. That was my baby, and I couldn't give him to somebody else.

"I'm glad you're not some crazy person sitting outside the abortion clinic. Ha. Maybe we're not that different. Do you know it hurts? I think about him every day. It was a boy. I know he's in Heaven. I went in the first day and they dilated me, and they put all these sticks in me. Oh God it hurt so bad. Then I went home, and my water broke and I went into labor. Contractions and everything, and I would put my hand on my belly, and every time I did he would start kicking me hard, so hard, I know he was... He was... Every time I put my hand on my tummy, he would push back to me. He was...

"He was big, my little boy.

"I went back, and they put me under, and I don't remember the rest. I've really struggled with it. I'm in counselling now. You know, though, it isn't about the help, the money, the programs, the free stuff. It's about my mom and my auntie and my granny and my friends. Nobody was there for me. They just kept giving me such a hard time about it. You can't imagine."

I asked her if she would want her friend to go through all of this. "Yeah, she knows she has a baby. We've seen all the pictures on the internet. But she doesn't know what else to do. There's no one there for her either."

"You."

She nodded and turned to walk back inside. I don't know what happened after that. I waited until 11:30, hoping she and her friend my come out. I wanted to stay the rest of the day, even until closing for them, but Toby needed me to get him home. He wasn't doing well in the cold. His poor tiny fingers were icy, and my own were too cold to warm them. Toby started crying in pain, so we packed up to go home. Just before we left, a very beautiful woman approached the clinic. She flicked me off. I really wonder why, though. I didn't condemn her. I didn't judge her. What was she thinking about me, that she felt I had done something against her? I don't know.

I left asking the angels to take my place on the sidewalk and for Jesus to call to their hearts.

Lord have mercy on us all.