AI-picture by Else Cederborg
The Innocent One
The pressure on her arm was surprisingly tight. Then there were the fierce wrigglings and kicks. All that, including the screaming and the mouth like an "O" with rage and disgust in that small, perfectly shaped, but by now reddish face, was evidence that this very, very young lady had what was needed and that she would never become like her mother even before she got sick.
Doreen-Marie was the child's name, but in looks and in actions she was more like the brave and headstrong heroines of the past, even relentless like a born Amazon warrior-queen.
Being her great-aunt was more and more becoming a pleasure, and the adoption a dream that came true. This was even better than giving birth herself, the new mother of the child thought. The only tag was the father of the baby because unknown DNA is like a hidden and disguised bomb, waiting to explode. Who knows what's in a string of inherited character traits when the owner of it is unknown?
Yes, this pretty, wild and wonderful firecracker might easily have ended up as a blood clot in a pan. No wrigglings, no kicks or fierce stare at the one who attempted to hold her as she, who was actually much too young to as much as walk, wanted to run and have fun on her own.
When her unwanted presence was detected by the doctors of her very young mother, it had been too late to turn what was now a living child into a shady memory of abuse and mystery. The child, this innocent troublemaker, had grown to become a demanding wonder, always hungry, always on the alert to obtain what she needed to grow even more. And who gave it to her? At first the personnel at the orphanage, those who had wanted to give her away to the first, the best individual who wanted her.
One of those who really did want to give her a home was the woman who now was holding her so lovingly, actually her great aunt, and she won this small treasure, but then didn't her wealthy and well-connected family always win? No, when the girl who was to give birth to this child was hit by a run-away car and lost her identity in a severe brain-damage they didn't win anything except a very young woman suddenly turned into a 5 year old girl. The driver was never found, never prosecuted or sentenced and nobody knew who he was.
Neither did anyone know, or even guess, the name of the unknown man who was responsible for the birth of this small, wild, and beautiful addition to an old family. Who had abused, seduced or lured her young mother into sexual acts that had lead to this unexpected birth? Who had DARED to approach the brain-damaged daughter of the rich, old family? Nobody knew, but they guessed at some pedlar, or perhaps a servant. Seeing her perfectly shaped baby face didn't lead to any clues, but it did give rise to new questions: Who was she, this fairy, this small angel from nowhere? And, what was even more important, did it really matter when the child was as healthy and beautiful as this baby?
Her adoptive mother sat down and watched her given daughter closely, quite amazed at the love she felt for what she saw, each and one unknown feature, mixed with her own strong family traits. The child looked back at her, cocking her head a little as if she herself was deliberating something important and was browsed her features to find an answer to a delicate question, most likely something like e.g. this one: "Who is this old woman? Should I accept such a strange looking one as my mother?"
Her puckered brow made her look so funny, like a very old, wise school-marm, that her adoptive mother couldn't help laughing out loud. The child caught on to this rippling sound and started to laugh herself. Mother and daughter looked at each other, eye to eye, laughter to laughter, and their inner beings interlocked like two hands meeting in a handshake.
"Oh yes," the mother thought, "no matter who you are, you're a gem, no doubt about it, and we are a team against all the world, should they be prejudiced against us."
As to the child, then her beautiful, blue eyes grew even bigger with delight, and now she contemplated her new mother, with pleasure, yeah even with happiness. No more kicks, no more screams, at least for the time being, only pleasure and contentment at sitting on the friendly lap of this woman.
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And, by the way, I'm, still for Roe, and a woman's free will to choose. However, even so, I'm not blind to the fact, that a choice isn't something lightweight, but that's the case in most choices. What may be best for the one, may be a great loss in someone else ....
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