Early morning tears

I'm away from home, on business. Stuck in a hotel. A hotel without wi-fi, so I have to bring my laptop down to the business center and hook it up to a LAN line.

I was up late last night, as you can imagine. The desk clerk had to let me in to the office to access the LAN line. He had been greeted earlier by a chipper young woman quietly celebrating an Obama victory and assuming that he (who she addressed on a first-name basis) was sharing the celebration.

I blogged sadly, went to bed, slept poorly, and came down early this morning.

The desk guy greeted me with a smile and "Back early!"

I started crying and telling him about my friend, about how she'd been convinced by a counselor that she had to have the abortion, even though she didn't want it, to protect her other children from an ugly, threatening situation.

How when her baby was born alive in that clinic toilet she changed her mind and screamed for them to call 911 for her baby, but they wouldn't. How her friend called 911 but the staff sent the ambulance away. How staff waited until the baby was dead, then called 911 for police to remove the hysterical mother from the clinic.

I cried about how much it hurt, when Obama had voted four times against making clinic staff call an ambulance for babies like my friend's baby, to see him win. That I knew that these votes weren't the reason people had voted for him, that I knew that these votes weren't why people were celebrating. That they had other reasons. But that it still hurt so much, that the man who thought it was okay to let my friend's baby gasp out his last breath in an abortion clinic toilet was going to be our next President. That my friend had really had a rough time during the election, reliving her baby's death. That I was worried about her.

I rambled about the autopsy, about how the baby's lung tissue floated, proving he'd been born alive. How the law enforcement chose not to do anything because you couldn't prove he wouldn't have died of prematurity anyway. How there was another case in Florida where they'd put the baby in a biohazard bag and thrown her on the roof, and how they were maybe going to prosecute for that one. But it was iffy. I couldn't remember the mother's name or the baby's name or the details and I started searching for words. I started crying that it wasn't about race for us, or about anything but my friend's baby in the abortion clinic toilet and staff sending the ambulance away and Obama being okay with that.

The desk guy was shocked. He said things like, "That's crazy!" and "Where was this?" and "That's wrong!" and "I'm so sorry!" and "You get in touch with your friend! I hope she's okay!"

I know it's too little too late, to get one Obama supporter to understand that there are reasons other than race or warmongering or whatever else they think our motives are, to not want Obama elected. That for at least the people who love Angle, it's about whether or not it's okay to just wait for a baby to die, then toss his mother out the door.

Maybe, at least, among him and his friends, there will be some who don't demonize us for having hoped against all hope that Obama wouldn't become President.