I remember the sound of your voice, and the touch of your hands. I remember falling asleep to the beating of your heart, and waiting to be held by your loving arms. I remember how you felt when he would tell you he loved you, and how he said he would be your everything. I remember the plans you were making, and the party you were planning for me. I also remember when you told him about me, and how your heart began to beat uncontrollable. I remember him telling you, how he hated both of us, and that he wishes I would die. What I remember the most, is how you told him you would do anything if he would only stay. The last thing I remember is the Doctor telling you this will be over shortly. I was never held in your loving arms, and never felt the touch of your hands. I never had that party you planned. I was only eighteen weeks old when I met Jesus, because you or daddy didn't want me.
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