You laid next to me and I couldn’t do anything for you, neither for you nor for me. “Mom, why are you just lying there and not building a nest for us? Why don’t you play with us? Don’t you love us?”, you seem to be asking. But it’s because I couldn’t help it. But my martyrdom did not begin when you were born, but a long time before that. I was chosen to have babies. All others are slaughtered after 6 months of suffering, but I was allowed to live longer. What a farce!
When I was finally old enough, I was artificially fertilized. I didn’t know what was happening to me, just that someone entered my vagina, brutal and numb. Then I had to stay in a box for the first time. I finally realized that I was expecting you. I stood in my box dreaming that when the time came to give birth to you, they would let me out. How nice it would be if I could build you a nest in the straw. Then you would lie next to me. We would cuddle, play and enjoy life. So much for my imagination. I couldn’t think of anything else. That’s why at some point I felt like it was actually becoming a reality, but that wasn’t the case. When it actually came to the point that I was supposed to give birth to you, 3 months, 3 weeks and 3 days after the hideous person was with me, I was put in another box. It was an iron frame that I was locked in, just big enough to stand and lie in. There was nothing I could do but just lie there and let it happen that you came out of me. I would have loved to say hello to you, each and every one of you, but I couldn’t. Just lie there and let it happen. I felt you, but I couldn’t care, not a single minute. I loved you from the moment I realized that I would soon welcome you. How did you look? How many were you? Were you boys or girls? I didn’t know anything about it. And I didn’t play with you because I was locked in my prison, and you had to stay outside. Now and then I saw one of you when it happened to come into my view. One day one of you came to my face, very close. I felt the longing for togetherness, for closeness, but I couldn’t satisfy it. Then you lay down in front of my face, one of my babies who were next to us, but who I still didn’t know. For a few minutes I felt you breathe, then you died before my eyes. After a few days someone came and took some of you out. Heartbreaking screams followed and a trail of blood pulled them behind them. I wanted to stand up, free her from the attacker’s hands, but I just hit bars. Not only could I not see you, I had to watch how you were mistreated, how you were obviously caused terrible pain. Lie there and do nothing. I couldn’t protect you; I couldn’t keep you. You were helpless at the mercy of people, like me. It almost drove me out of my mind. I reared one last time when something broke inside of me. The steel barrier hadn’t yielded, but my spine had. I don’t know what happened to you, but they took me away because I was broken. I could only hope that the day when you would no longer have to suffer would no longer be locked up. When they put me on the trailer, I saw the sun, the meadow for the first time and breathed fresh air. One day you should be able to play and romp, rummage and discover in this meadow. It was a comforting thought. The people would finally understand how much suffering they caused us, would open the stable doors and let us go, at least in this meadow. It was the last thought before they threw me into the CO2 nacelle that you would be better off.