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"You get Plan B, and you get Plan B, and you get Plan B!"

It's like an Oprah-fest: a federal judge has ruled that females of all ages must have access to Plan B or the "morning after" pill. This means that  your 13 year old daughter, who can't go on the school field trip without a signed permission slip, can toddle on over to the clinic and get a handful of hormones.

Our daughters' health is at stake. Read this woman's account of her "easy, pill" abortion:

I was screaming and crying, writhing in agony on the floor. I couldn’t move; I was on the verge of passing out; I couldn’t even see – blinded by the pain.
 
My boyfriend picked me up and rushed me to the emergency room, where I waited, still sobbing and thrashing with pain. When the triage doctor finally saw me, my blood pressure was dangerously low, and my heart rate was all over the chart.

When I told him about the abortion, he callously said that I would be “fine” and pricked me with a needle to jolt my blood pressure higher – but still dramatically low. I was sick for two more days, drugged up on the heavy-duty painkillers that the ER doctor had prescribed for me.

When I returned to the OBGYN a week later and told him about my ordeal and severe reaction, he just looked at me questioningly and said, “You seem all right; you didn’t bleed out.” No sympathy, no concern.

These “convenient,” “safe,” and “easy” medical abortions are downright dangerous.

I wrote, about 15 months ago, about my decision to not give Plan B to my daughter after an assault, and let's just say that I was treated non-too-kindly in the blogosphere. Apparently, being pro-abortion also means being cruel, and wanting this type of callous, dangerous medical crisis for all females.

We have to keep up the fight, folks!

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I saw you
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as you guided
your little man across that busy street.

You were wearing some
big man boots
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black sneakers and
a Mickey Mouse hat
that bounced
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your big man boots
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his step bounced a bit
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a spot where the asphalt broke.

You turned to look,
holding out a hand to
your little man.
Not rushed or angry,
just making sure
he got up
on that sidewalk.

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in your big man boots,
face into a cold Michigan wind,
with the little man behind,
his hat bouncing.