I’m not going to comment on the videos because, well, quite frankly, I don’t care. I mean, I do care. I care a lot. Maybe too much, because that last one…I can’t even click.
But I don’t care about the videos. Because they’re nothing new.
Abortionists discuss baby parts the way a heart surgeon discusses his latest bypass. Glibly, over a glass of Zin. Surprise? This is nothing. No news here.
What’s shocking is that everyone is shocked.
I am not shocked. I’m sorrowful and frustrated and, yeah, I’m downright furious.
I’m livid that there are people picking and choosing with carefully sterilized rhetoric when a person is or is not worthy. I’m sick that there are doctors who get to decide which people are or are not worth saving. Since when did being “wanted” by one person make you human?
If you are pro-life (and I mean, pro-life: pro-every person, at every stage, no matter what), then I know you’re mourning with me. As you have been for who knows how many years. There’s always someone, some group being forgotten, being silenced, and you’re crying tears for all the voices that have been cut short. I share your pain. Hang in there. Keep fighting the good fight.
If you are pro-choice, I just want to tell you a story. It won’t take long. All I ask is that you read with an open heart, and without skimming.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I was at an expectant mothers’ group. Some of the women there had older children who joined us as we sat around my friend’s living room, drinking iced tea and nibbling brownies. One of the women had two children, both elementary school age, and they were sitting by her when she said it.
“Oh, sure, I had an abortion. It just wasn’t the right time.”
Just like that. Flip of the hand and another nibble of brownie. And all I could think was: to be those other children. To know that your worth, your very chance at living depended on what your biological mother wanted at the time you were conceived.
To know it could have been you in the trash, or spliced up as “tissue” for medical research; some other kid munching brownies with mom.
What if your life depended on what someone else wanted? On someone else’s comfort, someone else’s career, someone else’s fears? And if you were unwanted by this one person, then all she had to do was nip down to the nearest PP and have you surgically removed from this world?
Not every pregnancy is planned. But…but. Every baby is a wanted baby.
If not by his biological mother, then by his waiting adoptive family. And by the God who conceived him.
No, I don’t want to tell you what to do with your body. But I do care what you do with someone else’s body, and I’m sorry, but no one has the right to cut out another person’s brain, break open their ribs and rip out their fragile, still-warm heart.
Even if it’s perfectly legal.