I decided today, to checkout whats going on with the woman standing outside a building on 42nd St, with her graphic pictures of slain babies. I have to be honest, I must have passed people like her a hundred times on my way to and from work in the subways. I choose not to look at the pictures they are displaying, the same way I choose not to look at the man standing with a sign that is held up by his two handless arms. Its too much, its too much on my eyes and heart to see, so I choose not to look. (I believe alot of peole do this as well) But after alot of thought and prayer, I decided to go out and talk to the woman standing infront of a nondescript building on 42nd St.

She is shorter than I, black, 54 yrs old, dressed in a frumpy outfit, with a hat and scarf (it has to be 60 degrees out). I am sweating nervously, as I turn away from her signs, and introduce myself. She says "the police here dont let me cross the line, (pointing to a split in the sidewalk) theres one cop thats good. He lets me say whatever I want as long as I dont cause too much of a stir. You can tell which women are going in for an abortion. Its the white women that confuse me. I find that black women come in with a headscarf and tight jeans, white women come in baggy sweats, you dont see many hispanics, they havent really assimilated into our disrespect for life here in America."

As I look up, I notice that this nondescript building, is an abortion clinic. I feel sick. I feel like I have very rarely ever been this close to evil before. And just as I bring my thoughts back into the moment, here comes two black women, one with a scarf on her head, tight jeans, the other with a baseball cap and tight jeans. To be honest, they look like they have dabbled in crack. You can tell their faces looked much older than their age, their teeth rotted, they mannerisms very jerky. The woman I am standing with immediatly stops speaking to me, and rushes over to her crack in the pavement (where she cannot cross) and shouts out "Jesus loves that baby, you have a birthday, why wont you let the baby have one too." And with that, the girl with the scarf shouts back "you think this is worse than my baby starving to death because I cant afford to feed it? You're preaching the wrong message, God wouldnt want that." The woman beside me kept her composure, and touched her heart as the woman and her friend checked in at the front desk, asking what floor the clinic was on. The women were still shouting inside through the glass, clearly fired up, perhaps showing that they were scared and had a conscious." The woman next to me just held her hands on her heart.

I felt sick again. I was 10ft from a woman who was about to kill her baby. I noticeed she had a small bump, the baby already had a heart beat. It took all of my might not to yell out to her, that I would take the baby, help her, just dont kill it. I still regret not saying that, I feel guilty for being almost an accessory to this. I know that sounds ridiculous, and that I have probably sat next to women in the subway en route to the clinic, or passed them in the street, and have been none the wiser, but this was made clear to me, and I didnt do anything.

My heart feels sick, and I feel guilty, because right now, that women has enough money to support her seemingly serious drug habit, but not enough to bring that child into to the world. I look at my nice apartment, my clothes, my computer, surely I could give her my money, I dont need all of this. But unfortunatly, I do not believe that this would help. I dont think that women would have respected the offer and spent the money on the child. I stand defeated.