Member-only story
Do You Believe In Miracles?
Today, February 19, is my day of birth. I am a young thirty nine years old, but my inner soul feels twenty six. Not twenty one, but twenty six. It feels good to be alive and to be living, but I shouldn’t have been born.
I mean, seriously, I wasn’t supposed to be born.
Eleven years ago, my parents told me about my almost abortion story. That’s right, they were going to abort me. My refugee Vietnamese Mother who didn’t speak English was already overwhelmed with her two kids under three years old. She didn’t have enough energy, love, money and know- how to take care of three.
She cried as she told me the story. My Dad and I sat in a kumbaya circle with her and cried along. They told me how much they loved me and how thankful they were that God saved me.
“How? What do you mean?” I managed to sob out in between my whimpering.
“We were in the room waiting for the doctor. Your Dad stood on my left side as I laid on the table. They said they were going to suck you out, suction abortion. We didn’t have any other choice. We didn’t have money and could barely feed your brother and sister,” my Mom said, “the doctor came in and sat down in between my legs.”
I couldn’t believe what my Mom was telling me. To be honest, I wasn’t feeling that great internally during that time as I…
