My Son Would be Four Today, But I Can’t Celebrate His Birthday Because I Aborted Him
As summer turns to autumn and the leaves on the trees begin changing hues and the air gets a bit cooler, my heart remembers. This is the time of year I should have welcomed my first child into the world. He should be turning four this year, as he was due at the end of September or beginning of October.
He should be playing, laughing, learning, growing, and a part of my every day. I should be baking a birthday cake with four candles to be blown out. The day should be full of balloons, presents, and all things related to a little boy’s birthday.
Instead, I must carry the weight of his absence for the rest of my days on earth. I carry the grief over losing him and knowing he should be here, bringing joy and beauty to this world, had it not been for a sinful decision I made. Regret barely conveys the depth of my profound emotion. At times over the past four years, the deep grief and sorrow has threatened to consume me.
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