My special boy

The pregnancy was horrible. My morning sickness lasted from 6 weeks until the day I had him.

At five months, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. I resisted treatment for the safety of my child. I knew he was going to be special from the moment I found out I was pregnant.

I had horrible dreams through out my pregnancy. Nightmares almost nightly of death and famine. The most disturbing dream I can remember was a priest in a dark basement covered in blood. He chanted something unintelligible and laughed hysterically while eating a live baby goat.

The suffering was so intense, but I would do anything to bring my precious son into this world. At 7 months pregnant, my husband left me. He left in the middle of night with all his belongings and only a note that said, "I can not contribute to this evil."

I didn't understand what he meant. We'd never been involved with any evil. We lived our lives outside of sin from childhood until marriage. We attended church every Sunday. Prayed together everyday before work and before bed. He was so excited to be a father. He couldn't stop talking about it, until the dreams started for him too.

This pregnancy proved to be the most painful time of my life, but I was determined to bring my baby in to the world. He was the only thing I had and I could feel his greatness. I knew he would change the world.

Finally, the day came. My contractions woke me up from another nightmare and were so strong that I had to call an ambulance to pick me up. There was no way I could drive through them.

I suffered through labor for over 48 hours before my baby came. My doctor was so concerned with getting the baby out safely. Almost obsessive. I didn't mind though. I needed to know that my baby would be safe.

After 48 hours of strong contractions and no progress, the doctors decided I needed a c-section. I didn't mind, I just wanted my baby.

It felt like they were digging into me for hours before they finally got him out. What's funny is that he never cried. I knew he was born when the doctors all rushed around him to cut his cord and clean him up.

Every doctor was in awe by my son. They all flocked around the table to stare at him. I couldn't see much from under the curtain, but I got a glimpse of him. He had blonde hair and the palest blue eyes I had ever seen. Amazing because my husband and I both have brown eyes and dark hair.

I was so amazed by his beauty that I almost didn't realize that all of the doctors were flocked around him instead of stitching me back together. Fear set in when I realized I had a big gaping hole inside of my abdomen with my organs hanging out.

Still, they stared in amazement at my son not even noticing me. I started to fade unconscious, but I could still hear their words very clearly. "He has risen. He has come to bring the Armageddon. Hail Satan."

What? I can't be hearing this right. The anesthesia began to wear off, but the pain didn't phase me. I just needed to see my son. I pulled myself up by the railing on the operating bed and somehow gathered the strength to drag myself over to my son. My intestines dragged on the floor beside me and my vision slowly began to fade.

Finally, I did it. I got to him. He was so beautiful, he looked otherworldly. He still wasn't crying, and his eyes carried such intensity. Both of wisdom and of evil. I couldn't hold on anymore. I fell back and began to bleed out into unconscious. The doctors finally noticed me and hovered around.

None of them looked phased by the gruesome scene that lay in front of them. Infact, they were all smiling and saying "thank you for your sacrifice" some of them even kneeling and bowing over my bloody body.

The last thing I saw before I died was my son's face. I could swear he was smiling at me. The most demonic smile I have ever seen.

It was worth it.