There comes a time in your life when you think to yourself...Wow I'm really lucky...and this week I have found myself thinking just that. All over the news I see the photos of that poor little boy, found dead, wrapped up on a blanket and left in the dirt like a common piece of trash. The killer....his egg donor! From what I have read and heard, she admits to overdosing the kid on cough syrup. What a sick piece of crap she is! She doesn't even deserve to be called his mother as they keep calling her on the news. She is no mother, she is an egg donor, a nasty evil person who killed her own child. This isn't some case of getting pregnant and deciding to have an abortion, that I can handle because (in my opinion) abortions are a matter of personal choice and if the fetus can not survive outside the womb then it's not really murder. But to carry a child inside your body for 9 months, then raise him and let him see 6 or 7 years of life before you give him a bottle of cough syrup and leave him in the dirt, that truly is murder of the worst kind! So I do feel lucky because at least I survived! My egg donor did her best to keep me down, came close to killing me and my siblings, if it weren't for her boyfriend who was raping us pulling her off of us she would have done so. As she held pillows over faces and screamed things like "You should never have been born" she tried to do it, she tried to take our precious lives away....luckily she did not succeed. Indeed, I am lucky!
I don't normally think of my life as lucky, I remember thinking in high school and college that I would have rather been an abortion, that I did not feel it fair to have to survive that life. Now that I am older and have my own child, I do feel differently. Although I do not understand nor comprehend the why's of my life, I am still thankful that I was at least born and that I had somehow found the strength to survive. I am thankful for one simple reason....my son! He makes my life complete, he makes me smile, he makes me laugh and above all, he makes me feel loved. Don't get me wrong, I felt loved before he came along, my hubby is an amazing man who has done just that, but this is different. Hubby is not my flesh and blood, he is not an actual part of me and so that familiar love, that sense of being unconditionally loved, is different. With your hubby there is always that small chance that you can do or say something really stupid that can not be forgiven. The love and attachment between mother and child is different, it is what I needed to feel with my egg donor but did not have. Although I am not the child loving and feeling that depth of affection, it is the very thing that helped heal the wounds and helped make me move forward. Now I have that sense of permanency, that knowledge deep down inside that no matter what I will have at least one person in this world who truly loves me. I feel sorry for my egg donor, she probably never felt that....or if she did it was some kind of illusion. I suppose it's possible that she felt that with the siblings who turned to god and "forgave her". I suppose they could have somehow found it inside them to treat her with that love that they claim god gives them, but a successful mother would feel that from every single one of her children and she certainly never got it from me. In reality what she got from me was a phone message on her answering machine telling her exactly how angry I was with her, exactly what she had done to me and how she was dead to me forever more. I am sure that as she listened to that message she cried, it must have hurt her greatly to hear the venom that I was sure was in my voice, but I truly did not (and still do not) care about her feelings. She hurt me enough that she deserved to feel that pain, she deserved to go to her grave knowing that before she got there she was already dead in the eyes of her child.
Luck is something that not everyone finds, that poor little boy didn't have enough of it. He was not one of the lucky ones. I wonder how much that poor boy suffered at his egg donors hand before she decided she had enough and killed him. Why didn't she just drop him off at a hospital or a police station and drive away? She could have given him up to the state and handed over her parental rights forever. She could have given that responsibility to someone else to deal with. She had plenty of outs, but she chose the most evil, she chose to kill her own child. Did she think she was being kind by giving him too much cough syrup? Did she think he would just go to sleep and never awake and that was merciful? I just can not fathom what she was thinking, let alone how she could think it was ok to do. How could she possibly live with herself after doing such a horrible thing? If she thought her child was in such a bad situation, why didn't she drink some cough syrup too and kill herself as well? What made her think she deserved to live but that poor child did not? I hope she gets justice, I hope she doesn't get off on some "temporary insanity" plea. I hope she justly pays for her evil crime.
Today I feel lucky, today I feel saddened for a little boy who lost his life at the hand of the one person who was supposed to love him beyond reason, the one person who is supposed to die so that you might live. I would do anything for my child, I would die for my child, If I could not provide for him or felt I was not able to deal with his ADHD anymore I would get help. I would find someone who could help him, a doctor, a neighbor, a grandparent, a friend. I would do anything for my child......why couldn't she do the same? Why couldn't mine do the same? Why would you choose to kill them or hurt them? Why would you make them suffer for your misery?
I may feel lucky, but I would still like to know why!
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