:: The S.I.C.L.E. Cell ::

my view from the prison of a SICLE (Self-Imposed Child Loss Experience) due to debilitating maternal disease
:: welcome to The S.I.C.L.E. Cell :: bloghome
SEARCH THE CELL Google Custom Search
| thesiclecell@yahoo.com ::
:: After abortion[>]
:: RealChoice[>]
:: Silent Rain Drops[>]
:: Stanek![>]

:: Tuesday, October 14, 2008 ::

In honor of the Timberlake/Biel post...

"Nobody should be able to say what you can do with your body."

I guess no one told Jessica Biel that there's a law against prostitution, smoking pot, having sex with your children, using your fist to smack your baby around, using your drunk body to drive a car, going to the mall in your birthday suit, etc. Man, she's going to be embarrassed when she finds out that somebody actually DOES say what I can do with my body. But seriously, I hope Jessica does something about the laws currently slapped all over my body, because everyone knows there's no better way to enjoy a Cinnabon than dining in the buff at the mall food court.

"'I give Jess the right to choose where we go to eat all the time,' Timberlake joked."

Oh, man! LOL! You tell 'em, Justin! ROFL! Choosing to mutillate and kill your child is just like choosing between a chalupa and a chimichanga (only that's a lot harder because they both start with c's and everything)! Joking about abortion...what a funny, funny guy! Hey that reminds me of an HILARIOUS email I shot to a friend last night. Here's an excerpt (get ready to giggle):

"I read the Nathanson book last night. I was disappointed. It was brilliant, but the things I read. The things I know...

I was in the grocery store tonight, and I almost busted out crying in the cake aisle. I had to do that mental holding it together thing. something, i can't remember what, triggered a memory of the past...the beautiful past where i was young and moronic with life ahead...life was SOOOOO GOOOOOD back then. back then when i embraced evil and twisted the truth. and then abortion cooked me. i mean, MY LIFE ENDED. here it is, i know, but i am not me anymore. yes, that's a good thing, yes, yes. but there was something so nice about not knowing. about being "free." about being young and supple and FREE. it's greater to be a slave of Christ but better to come to it another way.

the fishermen came away from their nets willingly. paul had to be blinded, affected physically...blinded, i say, that he might see.

i know i told you DH and i both had dreams the same night...before we found out we were pregnant that first time. i dreamed that i was being wheeled through hospital corridors in hell where there were body parts scattered everywhere, blood and arms and legs and organs all over the floor, tripping the wheels of the gurney. and DH had a dream that i was giving birth and the doctor delivered a dismembered head.

and my parents who could always get me through everything, anything, everything...they just happened to die one right after the other, orphaning me only months before the most devastating pregnancy-related illness of my life. yes, yes. just really awful luck. but it feels very orchestrated, all of it. no one has HG in my family. NO ONE.

it feels very orchestrated.

and i submit, and i am privileged.

but i am cooked. and in the end of things, my tears are contradictions, because i know that it is better to be cooked by abortion and saved than cooked by an eternal separation from God.

sometimes i want my old life back even so, wretched creature that i am. because it was easier being loved and mooing along with the crowds. easier being whatever i wanted to be, feeling whatever i wanted to feel and being utterly free...free of consequences or the responsibility of my freedom. free from the agony of abortion.

but it is outrageous, and i know it, for me to desire my life back. my life...well it's right here, isn't it? i ate the cheese crackers and drank the tea as my little one swam in his/her own blood and dismembered body parts.

i look at my daughter now, you know, and i can see them. i can see all the wounds inflicted on my first. she sleeps, the artery pulses beneath the smoothest skin. and i see it cleave. in my mind's eye, it becomes the neck of my first child; i see it open. I see the jagged anatomy inside. i see the skull splitting and caving in and the tender palate rendered forever inoperable...those lips i will never kiss. those cheeks will never impart their warmth sleeping on my breast. the arms flung away and fingers damaged. the belly punctured, contents dismissed. nascent bones disjointed, disconnected like so much dry spaghetti. my child, made to love and be loved. my child, same as the daughter and son i now raise. my child, razed.

and yet i sit pooling, whining for my life back. well all at once you know, if you never knew before, that i deserve every dollar's worth of misery i purchased that educational night. every dollar and then some.

before abortion i loved myself more than anyone.

after abortion i despise myself.

i see millions of children like mine falling, and the people who aren't sanctifying it are apathetic. they care about taxes. they froth at the mouth and they CARE about taxes.

i don't know the world anymore, and it doesn't know me.

and winter is coming..."

Yes, abortion is downright comedic. So keep on joking, Justin! Tell this one at your next Obama rally and laugh until I cry.

:: ashli 12:50 AM # ::

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?