First Steps and First Words

Once there lived a woman who didn’t give birth to a baby. A woman who never counted ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes, who never experienced first steps or first words. Once there lived a woman whose belly held the safe-feeling feelings and first worldly sensations of a new, old soul that would never live. Or love. Or be loved.

Once there lived a doctor who wasn’t an Obstetrician. Who didn’t tell expectant mothers when to push and when not to. Who didn’t help tiny babies breathe in their first seconds on their own. Once there lived a doctor who didn’t birth healthy babies, but removed unwanted ones.

Once there was a baby who was not yet a baby. Who was ripped from safe-feeling feelings by a doctor who didn’t birth healthy babies. But removed unwanted ones. A baby who’s soul held the head of a rhinoceros, wrinkled grey skin, and two horns, dull from a long life of not living. Or loving. Or being loved.