On a long, cold steel table was a row of babies birthed to die on December 4th, twelve abortions were performed that day. The day wasn't a normal one cold,no snow on the ground,rain fell from the sky and warmer than normal. Veronica the nurse who ran this shift became ill and I decided to cover for Veronica. The babies I lined up next to one another were frail, and turning a pale blue. It was six blacks, five white, and one Hispanic infants fighting for their lives. I watched the clock and when it struck a new hour one baby after another stop moving and breathing. I placed the stetsthscope on their chest checked for a heartbeat, and then documented the time of death. The Brown baby with steel gray eyes cried, kicked his tiny legs after eight hours. I bundled him up and he cooed. I checked this vitals, skin rich with color, and soft. He was healthy, and at that moment A miracle named Jensen lived. God was all over him, he was destined to be here for a purpose.
All the young mothers laid on the gurney in the recovery room most moaning in agony as sharp labor pains riddle their body and guilt made the pain worse. They suffered grueling hours of labor, expelling a baby from their womb meant to be dead upon arrival.Labor , sadness, fear, & sin tore through each teenager for hours during the process. All of them under the age of eighteen, too young to make such a decision on whether to keep their baby. Watching them suffer I was once was that sixteen year old girl making a choice to kill my baby. I assist mothers in late term abortions. The fetuses are babies no matter how tiny or small they are a human being. I stayed at a job I hated to see a miracle to know God wouldn’t allow rows and rows of babies to die but day after day it never happen.
I’d check their vitals, , read over the speech of what will happen, how they should react, and answer any of their questions. Before I inject them with salt water, potassium, urea, put sticks to open their cervix the day before I give the talk and ask the question.
“Are you sure? You have a choice, agencies will adopt, welfare will help you.”
Most forced by parents because of their promising future of attending college, others because of lack of money and maturity, and the young lady Gloria.
“I don't want a dark skin baby. What if he is black and ugly? He better off dead than dealing in the ridicule I live with.”
Each girl nods their head yes bellies already forming the bump, visible they are pregnant, any where from sixteen to twenty four weeks.
The solution injected into their veins, sticks inserted in their vagina twenty four hours before a baby is supposed to be delivered dead. On this day every baby was born alive and fighting for their lives after the abortions failed.
“They are all alive. Every one of them. We should tell the parents.”
“No. It was an abortion.”
On the doctor's Jackson's command, “ put the fetuses in the room and just let death happen. Don't smother them like before then it will be considered murder on our part. Lay them on the table and let the inevitable happen.”
The room temperature set at twenty-five degrees, the large clock ticking, little bodies that fit in the palm of my hand trembled, some of them covered in burns from the solution, others their limbs broken by the forceps and riddled with birth defects. My job was to watch them expire,lay them on the table, gasping for air, their little chests rising and falling rapidly until they lost the will to live. Some of the babies died within minutes, others in hours, but none of them normally lived. I'd close each of their eyes, dip my fingers in water put a cross on their forehead and said a prayer for them. I’d pop a valium and Percocet in my mouth to cope with the guilt that would eat at my core for the rest of my life. Nurses don't cry for babies not wanted it was my job to stay strong.
“God, let just one baby live, please.” I whispered.
I wrapped them in a receiving blanket put them in a red hazards bag to be thrown away as medical waste. Trashed as if they never existed but they never leave my thoughts maybe it is why God never gave me a baby because of my sins.
I am a murderer and though my name is Grace I never stop to save them. Every baby would eventually stop fighting, their small cries silenced by the grim reaper except this one brown baby. His tiny legs kicked, his cries soft but strong, eyes the color of silver dollars, and his arms flailing. Eight hours had passed, he was still alive, breathing, and the small miracle I asked of God had happen to let just one baby live.
I pick him up, cradle him, wrap him in a blanket,and his silver dollar eyes pierced my heart. His skin wrinkled, after birth dried in his creases, his skin the color of a Hershey bar, mounds of thick curls so black it shine. I press the stethoscope to his chest his breathing isn't labored, his lungs strong and clear. I sat him on the apgar scale, his number was a seven, he was healthy, weighed in at five pounds and ten ozs. .Babies didn't survive the cold, the solution injected to kill them., the forceps pulling at their tiny skulls causing brain damage beyond repair. A miracle happened on December 4, 1992.
His mother if she saw him would keep him I know it. I open the chart, dial her number and the second ring she answers,
“Hello.”
" I am the nurse who helped you today, Grace McCall. Your baby is alive. He is breathing, weighs 5lbs , 10oz. I can bring him to you. He is healthy and so cute.”
“What? He is...” She stutters.
“I know a miracle, right? The abortion didn’t take he is healthy. You're handsome is still here ”
“What is his complexion is he dark like me?”
“He is brown like a Hershey bar and the most beautiful silver eyes.”
"Let him die. I don't want no dark skin baby.”
She snapped.
“I can help.”
“Let him die, okay. I had no baby.”
"If it is money, housing, or services like welfare and Catholic Charities can help. I will give you money for formula, clothes, crib, and you won't want for anything. Ms, I can help you, please take your baby don't abandon him, please. He is a miracle.”
"I can't ,okay. Let him die. He is dead to me and just let me forget him. I had no baby, okay.”
She hung the phone up and I rocked him, tears from my eyes fell on his tiny face. He smiles at me and his fingers grabbed my thumb. I can't let him die I can't watch him take his last breath. He is here for a reason this beautiful brown baby God chose him to live.
"You have purpose little brown baby. I guess God wants me to take care of you. I just can't let you die so I will take you home and give you a home, name you Jensen Brick McCall.In Scandinavian the meaning of the name Jensen is: Hebrew John 'Jehovah has been gracious; has shown favor.”
He is going to be powerful, and a force to touch lives and change for the better.
I wrap him in my coat, open my duffel bag, put him in the bag. I create his birth certificate just like I did his death certificate. Give it to Regina to registrar and her reply,
“ The mom came to get him. He has a death and birth certificate now. A damn shame these young girls think abortion erases the fact they made a baby out of wedlock.”
“Yes. I'm going to help her out everyone needs support. We all make mistakes!
“I could never do your job day in and out be the one who ensures they are dead. How do you sleep, Grace Ann McCall?”
I look at his tiny face, his large smile, and I wipe the corner of my eye.
“As of today I can because I saved a life instead of taking one. I saved a baby named Jensen so he can fulfill God’s purpose.”