Diary of an Unborn Child
by Gearoge Faulkner
Today my life began. My parents do not know it yet. I am as small as the pollen of a flower, but it is I already. I will be a girl. I will have blonde hair and blue eyes. Nearly everything is settled already, even that I shall love birds.
I have grown a little, but I am still too small to do anything by myself. My mother does everything for me, although she still does not know that she is carrying me under her heart. But I am a real person just as a crumb of bread is still real bread. My mother exists, and I do too.
My mouth is just now beginning to open. Just think, in a year or so I’ll be laughing, and later I’ll start to talk. My first word will be “mama.”
Today my heart began to beat. It will beat softly for the rest of my life, never stopping. After many years it will tire and stop. Then I shall die.
I am growing continually. My arms and legs are taking shape, but I must wait a long time before these tiny legs will raise me to my mother’s arms; before these little arms will be able to conquer the earth and befriend people.
Tiny fingers are beginning to form on my hands. How small they are. One day I’ll stroke my mother’s hair and tell her how nice she is.
Only today the doctor told my mother that I’m living here under her heart. How happy she must be! Are you happy, mother?
My mother and father are probably thinking about a name for me. And they don’t even know that I am a little girl, so they are probably calling me “Andy.” But I want to be called Barbara.
I am growing so big.
My hair is growing. It is as bright and shiny as the sun. I wonder what kind of hair my mother has.
My eyes are almost fully developed, although the lids are still shut. When mother brings me into the world it will be full of sunshine and overflowing with flowers. I have never seen a flower, you know, but more than anything I want to see my mother. How do you look, mother?
My fingers and toes are fully formed. Even my nails are beginning to develop.
I wonder if my mother hears the delicate beat of my heart? Some children are born with sickly hearts, and then the gentle fingers of the doctor perform miracles to make them healthy. But
my heart is healthy. It beats so evenly: tup-tup, tup-tup. You shall have a healthy daughter, mother.
Today my mother killed me.
God says, “Lo children are an heritage of the Lord; and the fruit of the womb is his reward.” (Psalm 127:3)
The Psalmist wrote, “I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Marvelous are thy works, and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid from thee when I was made in secret and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them. “(Psalm 139:14-16)
Isaiah said, “That Lord hath called me from the womb; from the bowels of my mother hath he made mention of my name … And, now, saith the Lord that formed me from the womb to be his
servant …” (Isaiah 49: 1,5)
God said about Jeremiah, “Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee.” (Jeremiah 1:5)
God says, “Be sure your sin will find you out.” (Numbers 32:23)
Computers for Christ – Chicago