In an Irish Catholic family, I was the ninth child. The day my mom found out she was pregnant again, she prayed for a miscarriage. Instead my older brother was hit by a car and almost died. Same day, you can’t make this shit up.
I wish I didn’t know this stuff, but I am that unwanted kid. I know what it feels like to be emotionally abused. My dad wanted me, but died just after I turned 13. That was when things fell apart for me. I had no protection. My oldest brother was 13 yrs. older, and was physically abusive. I was beaten. I had garbage dumped in my room. While I washed dishes, he stood behind me saying “Bitch, bitch , bitch!” While stabbing a ham bone. He turned off the main and threatened to kill us all, but my mom didn’t throw him out- just took us for a ride in the car.
Well, I was 13. Maybe just over sensitive. Maybe being told I was unwanted as a teen was just teenage angst. Despite my suicidal thoughts, despite everything, maybe I really was the problem.
Maybe my mom didn’t mean the things she said, she was in pain. She was depressed. Blah blah blah. I loved my mom. I did.
So, I don’t,know, 40 years later? Trying to get rid of my mom’s hoarding, I threw out waist high newspapers while making sure nothing important lingered. Got to the basement- finally only to find her list of things to do, from years earlier, and fifth on the list? Learn to love cate94. Argh.
So my point of view? Forcing people to have children is bad for the children. Forced birth sucks.
My decent siblings are horrified of the notion that I’d be better off as an abortion statistic, but me? I’m not so sure.
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