Holy stinkin’ crap you guys. I’m writing this purely out of the kindness of my heart. I’ve got to give you a little background info before I tell you why I’m freaking out though. Continue reading
I’m apologizing in advance if this post offends you.
It’s about how a three-year-old girl completely changed my opinion on an extremely controversial political issue. Dead serious. I let a three-year-old, who isn’t even completely potty trained, change my political opinion. She’s very convincing.
Rewind a few years. When I was about 16 or 17 years old, I decided that I was pro-choice. If I made a mistake as a teenager, I shouldn’t have to be punished for the next 18 years. I wasn’t even shy about it. I would openly discuss abortion and what I would do if I ever got pregnant. “I’d have an abortion. I have too much going for myself to let that ruin my life.” I was serious. I had a very strong opinion and I didn’t really care what anyone thought. I was in high school, I was a cheerleader. I wanted to go to college and make something of myself; I couldn’t let an accident ruin my future.
But then, something happened during my junior year of high school. My mom got pregnant. I think my initial reaction was to be angry. My three younger sisters and both my parents were squeezed into this tiny three bedroom house. Did we even have room for a baby? Make no mistake, this pregnancy wasn’t planned. The baby and I would have an 18 year age gap. I had friends who were pregnant. It was just weird. The baby was a huge inconvenience. At that point in time, I think I thought to myself, “Why doesn’t she just get an abortion?”
It took awhile for Baby (Yes, we still call our three year old Baby. She thinks that’s her name.) to change my mind on the whole “pro-life/pro-choice” argument. I was in the delivery room when she was born. At the beginning she was just a baby. Just a crying, pooping, drooling baby. She was really small and fragile and not very entertaining. I loved her, yes. But I still said that if it happened to me, I wouldn’t keep it.
Baby started to grow. She learned to walk and talk. She developed a sweet and goofy personality. She asked genuine questions because she was curious to know things. I fell in love with her. I found myself saying things like “She’s like a tiny little person.” Which sounds dumb, because it’s true. She is a small person. But I never thought she would have so much personality at such a young age. Some nights she stays up late with me. She’ll play games on her iPad or chase around the dog. When I come home, she walks up and gives me a huge hug and says “Sammie!” in a cute excited little voice. I love it.
Today when I look at Baby, I can’t believe I ever even thought she was an inconvenience. I’m not super religious, so don’t think that’s what changed my perspective. I still believe that, under certain circumstances, a woman should have the right to choose. But I don’t think “I’m not ready,” or “I’m in college,” are good enough excuses. Baby has taught me not to be so selfish. Her life is more valuable than mine. I think “I’m too young,” and “We’re not married,” are selfish excuses to abort a child.
I have three other younger sisters. But it wasn’t until Baby, that my mind changed. It took me watching her grow to decide that abortion isn’t fair.
Maybe you think a fetus is “just a bundle of cells.” But to me, that bundle of cells has so much potential. Baby was just a bundle of cells and now she’s my entire world. So yes, a three-year-old completely changed my mind on the ever so sensitive topic of abortion. I’m Pro-Baby.
Ok, maybe this only applies to me. If so, I’m really embarrassed and I might delete this post. Or maybe it applies to everyone. Guys and girls. I’ve noticed that all of the completely pointless and non sense-making arguments I’ve had were when alcohol had been a contributing factor… Heads up, a lot of these arguments end in me crying.
- I’m not drunk. When I have this argument, I’m usually noticeably intoxicated. And it’s usually with my dad or my boyfriend. “Sammie, you’re drunk. Be quiet.” I’ll then go on to cry and say that I’m not drunk and wonder why everyone always thinks I’m drunk when I’m actually not. Real tears y’all.
- You lost my keys. I had this one recently. I blamed David (bf) for losing my keys while we were floating the Brazos river. I cried, again. And threatened to call an Uber because I couldn’t bear the thought of staying the night with him. Low and behold they keys were on my dresser. Facepalm* Idk why this guy tolerates my drunkenness.
- I need a sandwich and there’s no bread. After a fun and booze-filled night, my high school friend, Morgan, and I sneaked back into my room and I got the late night munchies. “Will you go make me a sandwich?” I ask. I’m not sure why, but she agreed. When she returned empty handed, I seriously cried one of those long ugly cries that babies do. “There’s no more bread.” HOW CAN WE BE OUT OF BREAD?!
- I’m leaving. I was on vacation with 3 girlfriends, my boyfriend and one of his friends. We were driving back to the beach house we were staying in and my friend, casually commented about how I had been all over my boyfriend all night. Ha, all hell broke loose. How dare she? What was she trying to say? What kind of friend would say something like that? Just for that, I’m booking a flight back home. Forget all of you. How rude. I’ll just leave. I was seriously on my phone trying to book a flight back home. But I couldn’t figure out how to purchase the ticket, given my current state. We all laugh about it now.
- That’s my shirt. I actually have this argument sober too. At one point, I lived with 4 girls who wore my size. So this was an issue. I’ve seriously been scrolling down my Instagram feed and stopped to comment on my sister’s pic, “Um, that’s my shirt.” Then I’ll proceed to type a long, confusing text about how “tHas my shirt dont u wear IT agian UGH!!”
*If you are my grandma or boss, this is purely for entertainment. I don’t drink, nor have I ever had any of these arguments.