I am pro-choice in the abortion debate but I part ways with the crowd who want to feel better about abortion by dehumanizing and isolating the unborn. The title of my poem comes from “Et tu, Brute?” (meaning “And you too, Brutus?”) the reputed last words of Julius Caesar, uttered in shock that his beloved Brutus was among the conspirators stabbing him to death. The idea is that when the aborted child confronts its impending death and turns around to see its mother’s face among the “conspirators”, it cannot help but ask in shock, “Et tu, mama?” (And you too, my mum?). In the poem itself, there is a further question: “Et tu, doctor?” This aims to capture the irony that the two people whose presence comforts us most when our health is in distress (mum and the doctor) are the same people who comprise the lethal duo of the abortion clinic. Shorn of the care of our customary caregivers, someone must stand by the aborted child in its final hours in person or in thought: that is the object of this poem.