Autonomy

When I say my morning prayer I always include a request for God our Father, Jesus our Savior and the Holy Ghost our Sanctifier to protect my family which includes my babies, the rabbit, the tarantula and the three snakes and also the wild squirrels and feral cats.  I rarely get asked if I have children and on the few occasions that I have I said Not human ones.  

    Did have a human one.  But her mother killed her when she had a heart beat and a brain wave.  No.  Her mother didn’t kill her.  Her mother terminated a clump of cells that couldn’t survive outside her womb.  Cool.  Clean.  Clinical.  Convenient way to put it.  For her mother.  The cold dirty nonoperative way I put it is my daughter was murdered by her mother.  Premeditation, check; aforethought, check; termination of life, check:  murder.  Just vacuumed my daughter right the hell out of her, you know, because of her mother’s body autonomy.  But her mother didn’t make her on her own.  I had a definite and precise role.  Yet zero say.  Had it been the other way around, say, she wanted our daughter and I didn’t, well, she would have had her and I would have been on the hook to support her.  

    If you didn’t want a child you shouldn’t have fucked her mother.

    Well

    If she didn’t want a child she shouldn’t have let me fuck her.

    The father is only included when the mother wants him to be.  Demands him to be.  If I had been there - in my defense I was off fighting a war - I would have said Please, don’t kill our baby.  You don’t have to take care of her, you don’t have to stay with me.  I’ll do everything.  And it wouldn’t have made a difference because of body autonomy.  

    Helluva thing, ain’t it?

    It’s accepted that it takes two to tango when the mother wants the baby and support but it’s her body autonomy that is supreme when she doesn’t want motherhood.  Wasn’t it both our bodies that made the body - oh sorry the clump of cells the zygote the nonviable thing inside of her - so shouldn’t it be both our decisions input wants considerations?  Turns out that I’m just a man.  Just the man who works the long hours pays the bills provides the shelter and in return gets zero say in what happens to his daughter who is only cells clumped in a womb with a heartbeat and brainwaves.  

    I’m not asking you to be her mother.

    Just don’t kill her.

    Sign papers surrendering all obligations to her.

    Just don’t kill her.

    I’ll tell her whatever you want me to about you.

    Just don’t kill her.

    I can’t kill her.  She isn’t alive.  She isn’t even born.

    Her heart beats.  Her brain has waves.  She is alive.

    No.  No.  She can’t live outside of me.

    Let her live outside of you with me.  Only me.  You won’t have to do anything.

    How do I know you’ll even be around?  You were already blasted and burned and now you’re going back for a third time . . . how do I know you’ll come back for her?  No.  No.  It’s better this way.

    Better for YOU!

    YES!  And I’m the only one looking out for what’s better for me.  You’re keep going off to fight a stupid war and leaving me with all the responsibility here.

    I promise you won’t have any responsibility to her.  I’ll sign anything.  All you have to do is not kill her.  Just nine months and you’re free.  That’s all.  

    You’re gone for fifteen months at a time!  

    And I’ve come back.

    There’s no guarantee that you’ll come back again and if you don’t I’ll be stuck with her.

    I promise I’ll come back.

    Fathers have to beg for their children when their mothers don’t want them and beg to be with them when their mothers want them.  So who’s the stronger sex?  Who’s really in power?  Yes, I outweigh you and yes I can overpower you and yes I have the physical advantage but you take physical advantage over my child my daughter with the simple claim of body autonomy over what you say is a nonviable clump of cells.  With a heartbeat and brain waves.  It takes two to tango until the tango results in a child and then it only takes one to decide if the child will live outside the womb.  Fuck the father.  Her father.  She lived long enough to be known as a girl.  Just a little clump of girly cells, right?  with a beating heart and waves throughout her brain.  

    Just cells.  A zygote.  Ain’t born.

    Have you ever been invited to a zygote shower?  They’re celebrated as babies before they’re born ALL THE TIME and only when the mother wants the celebration.  We both took the risk but we both don’t have an equal say in the outcome.  And you’re the marginalized sex?  

    When she told me she murdered, yes, premeditation and aforethought, made the fucking appointment, vacuumed out my little girl in the name of body autonomy, I had no recourse.  Reduced to just the man who fucked his fiance.  And was always away.  

    I would have wanted to name her Jackie.  Not short for anything.

    Just Jackie.