Tattoo

So I figured most of you would want to hear about this, so here is the reason why and pictures of my recent tattoo.

It all started about 5 years ago...

I look down at my flat belly and begin to shake. My whole body trembles as I collapse on the floor, feeling the most shame I have in my entire life. Guilt. No words can even begin to describe how I feel. I slowly walk out of the spinning room and lay down on a soft love seat. Curling up I realize that it will not be long before the whole world knows. I can't live like this. Shaking my head I wipe tears from my eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have to tell someone. My entire body shakes from the force of the sobs that tare from my soul. Two words. Two words pound in my temples as I lay there. "I'm pregnant".

I woke up crying that night. A young girl of 14 years old, I knew the horrors of life and the joys of living. I knew at that point that I was not pregnant, nor had ever been, but for the first time in my life, I knew. I knew the feeling of guilt. I knew the feeling of dreading life. I knew the feeling of utter helplessness as one so small begins to determine their course of life. I knew the feeling of being so desperate that abortion seems like the only answer. No my dream never ended, I don't think Christ wanted me to see the ending. That night I wept. I cried for the unborn. I cried for the girls who had no where to turn. As I lay there, clutching my virgin womb, I wept with a passion that changed my life.

About 3 years past; years filled with dreams and passion, prayers and tears. Every time I would forget about these precious babies, God would bring another dream or thought to mind.

Another dream came, this one with more intensity than the one before.

I was in a room, and in front of me was a man, a toddler and a small baby girl. The man was holding the baby in his arms, as she was obviously a newborn. The toddler was discussing something with the man, and crept closer to hear their conversation.
"We don't really need her" the toddler said to the father, "if it is between her and mum, I love mum more."
"True," said the father, "we can't risk our honour on this child."
And with that he put the child on the table and began to cut her apart, one piece at a time.

I woke from this dream in horror, surprised that I had dreamt something so vividly and then, with surprise realized that it was something that occurs everyday. Every single day, a child is torn from security of his/her mother and sent pre-maturely into heaven. Once again I wept for the unborn.

It is my hope and prayer that eventually I will be able to work or start a home for teenage mothers who believe they have no other option than abort their child. It is for this reason that I decided to tattoo a pair of 10-week old feet on my feet (accurate size). Keep in mine, not 10 week old BORN, but 10-week old alive. They represent those that have lost their lives and the potential that these small feet have (to grow into feet the size of mine). I pray that eventually they will be used as a physical representation of this crucial issue and perhaps save lives.