Baby girl, with uterus, speaking

By Jan Ireland

A beautiful wrenching poem, composed by a writer friend, was posted in what should have been friendly territory. Someone who called herself a Republican posted an angry, lashing "unless you have a uterus you cannot speak for me" reply. The baby was a girl, and had a uterus, and will reply. First, with permission, here is Tim Siggia's beautiful poem.

WHO WILL SPEAK FOR ME?

My mother doesn't want me.
It's just a matter of time.
She wants a surgeon to kill me,
Though I've committed no crime.

All I want is just to live,
And to have my right to be.
But I cannot speak for myself:
Who will speak for me?
Who will speak for me?

I can hear my mother's voice
It's going to be today.
She says, "Please do it quickly now,
And I'll be on my way."

All I want is just to live,
But my mother wants to be free.
The Supreme Court spoke for her:
Who will speak for me?
Who will speak for me?

The inside of my mother's womb
Is invaded by the surgeon's knife.
He turns away; his job is done,
And so is my life.

All I wanted was just to live,
But my life was never to be.
I hear my brothers and sisters crying:
"Who will speak for me?"
"Who will speak for me?"
"Who will speak -- for me?"


Dear Lady,

A person with a uterus was speaking. I was a beautiful baby girl. I would have been wonderful to know, with my hopes and dreams. I would have gone to school, and had a best friend, and made plans for the rest of my life. Even a child not wanted does those things.

I would not have been a lot of trouble growing up. I would have endured the hurts and slights and impatience from a mom who didn't want me. Children not wanted learn to do that, and girls are better at it than boys.

I would have endured and held onto life, until I could get out of that house and onto my own. Then I would have changed things.

I would have made something of myself, and planned for my future. I would have had high standards, not given myself to just anyone. And when I had found a man who had the wonderful qualities I would have liked in a dad, I would have married him to start a life.

And we would have planned children. Planned little babies that we would hold and love. And planned for me to be home with them when they were little. And I would have been a good mom...just an ordinary good mom. ... I am so sorry you did not have a mom like the mom I would have been.

But I am so glad that you got to live. If you live, you can always change.

Babies are real, and they are babies, at the moment they are conceived. Some day science will show that, as they now show you pictures of my development. Even you will understand then. Until that time, I and others like me are killed when we are not convenient.

You know...you can always not have sex, until you're ready for the possibility of a child. Or would that be too inconvenient? You're right that you cannot legislate morality. But you can legislate life for the unborn. How I wish you had wanted that for me.

Still, I am glad you got to live. If you're still living, you can change.

Yours,

Baby Girl...with the uterus required to speak for you

© Jan Ireland