Why would anyone want to have children?

Sounds horrible right?

I have started my journey in my 20’s not too long ago, and I have quickly learned that I am growing up in a very controversial time. Each decade has its major historical events. The man-own-man era, the gender inequality battle era, and now the social media, guns in hand, drug legalization, text-to-talk era.

My babies will grow up idolizing technology and comparing themselves to men and women on a movie screen.

Their allowance will go towards Cosmopolitan magazines and bulking supplements to shape them in to the men and women their eyes feast upon.

My baby girl will be told that waiting to have sex until marriage is too traditional and sleeping around just a little bit is good practice.

My little prince will have to struggle to find his masculinity every day of his life, spending so many years learning the trades of a man.

I will struggle to teach my princess that a man should give her nothing less than everything, but make sure you treat him the same, because equal partnership is the only way a marriage will last, but you also have to blend in Jesus and laughter and genuine feelings and respect.

I will struggle to teach my “little man” that a woman is not an object but a gift from God and you treat her with every ounce of respect in your body, like the way you treat your mother because I will smack you if you ever call her by anything but her name.

My babies will lose their inner sense and be exposed to bomb threats and gun laws.

They’re just babies!

My babies are going to know how to use phone apps before learning how to conger up multiple syllable words.

This is not a “well if you raise your kids right”, no matter how much you shield your children, society loves to steal their ignorance and innocence. It sucks them in, brainwashes them, a hypnotic rotation.

Society infuses the veins with drugs and abusive intuitions of the parents that bore beautiful innocent souls that sit with me at picnic tables in the summer time, as we feed those children the only meal they will probably get that day. What about Saturday and Sunday when we do not have camp? Do their mouths water on the weekend, patiently anticipating Monday to seek some sort of salvation, not only for food, but the escape of a hand and the eyes of strangers that sneak past their bedroom door at night?

I hear my youth girls explain that the reason they put makeup on every day of their lives is impress boys and mask the words “whore” and “slut” with a powder brush full of lies and foundation, but that foundation creates no foundation to strong independence apart from society.

You either starve yourself until your bones ache more than words or stuff yourself until your ears drip out insecurities.

Our bodies that are supposed to be temples are vandalized and burned, turning in to nothing more than tattered cloth and ash.

Riots cause fires in the streets while these issues cause riots burning in our souls, burning through our flesh, the pain is too much to handle yet we still take a blade to our wrists.

It is no longer just me and my baby, connected by an umbilical cord, resting in my belly, protected from the outside world that for nine months they were not yet strong enough for. Mommy cannot protect you anymore. Mommy cannot keep you from sin. Mommy cannot keep you from temptation. Mommy cannot keep you from diseases and bad people. Eighteen years and you are still mommy’s baby but I will never be able to save you from your thoughts because the world adopted you the second you slid out of my womb. No baby, you do not own anything. The world has already embedded itself in you. Mommy can only give you wise words, but the world gives you choice.

And choice is more appetizing than the Ten Commandments. The addiction you catch as the words of the world stream through your veins intensifies as the vendors of temptation lure you to the products of this world.

This is a scary place baby. You do not want to meet these people.

Your fragile hands will hold shattered glass.

Your eyes will see arson.

Your heart will be deflated and crushed.

Your feet will walk on blades of criticism and the world’s attempt of your reconstruction.

Baby you are too precious for this world. It will come in the night like a masked thief and steal you straight from my arms and before you know it, I am no longer familiar, no longer relevant, you will only be alone.