Last night, my awesome husband wrote a blog post (the first of many), specifically about conception. Today, the Matt Walsh Blog posted about a video which showed up in multitudes on my Facebook newsfeed today showing a woman laughing, giggling, and smiling through her abortion. I couldn’t even watch the video, so I am not going to post a link here. I don’t think it deserves any more publicity than it has already received.
I have been sitting on a collection of thoughts for 6 years. 6 precious years.
A few weeks ago marks the 6th anniversary of my first REAL encounter with the term “abortion”… of course I knew what it was, but I didn’t have a personal relationship with the concept of abortion. Murdering someone else was just not in my scope of humanity. Choosing to murder someone cannot ever be on my scope of humanity for many reasons. First and foremost, I have a conscience. That little voice that tells me it is NOT okay to steal, even if my life would be better off with insert random object here. That little voice that tells me it is better to forgive and forget than to hold a grudge (we still disagree sometimes, but that is my cross to bear). The voice that tells me that eating healthy is better for me, even when I WANT to live off of Sausalito cookies and Vanilla Ice Cream.
April 17, 2008. I was at the oh-so-exciting ultrasound that every pregnant woman in america is offered (and most accept)… the one so affectionately coined “the gender scan”. It.Is.So.Much.More. But this is all people talk about… what gender the baby will be.
We found out Kyle was a boy that day. We also were given a diagnosis of “Holoprosencephaly”. I was told over the phone that Friday evening, and by Monday, a letter from my Obstetrician’s office had arrived in my mailbox, detailing the diagnosis, using terms like “incompatible with life”, and “medical termination suggested”.
Medical Termination. This term is just a glorified term for murder.
There is a term for weeding out societal “burdens” by means of murder… it is usually called genocide. But the medical pillars of our society hide behind the more palatable term “medical termination”.
Before we even knew what was actually different about Kyle, we were urged to “schedule termination and try again”.
1 Samuel 2:6 The Lord brings death and makes alive; he brings down to the grave and raises up.
It kept running through my head.
I was pretty public about finding information, it was the first time in my life I had heard most of the things being put before me. I sought help, resources, research, I spoke with Neurosurgeons, Neurologists, Spina Bifida experts, Developmental Pediatricians, other moms of kids with SB, Adults with SB. I combed google for everything related to spina bifida.
I could find nothing that gave me peace.
Friends did one of a few different things. Some became closer… some let me rely on them for help. Many I haven’t had a real conversation with since (this leads me to another blog post about “friends” vs acquaintances) .. they were never my friends to begin with. The rest reached out and encouraged me to terminate, told me they could never do what I was doing, or told me their own abortion stories and told me I would be okay. I no longer have a relationship with that latter crowd.
The few women I was pregnant with at the same time stopped talking to me. I was all of the sudden the black sheep. I had nothing to relate with them on anymore. Instead of decorating a nursery I may never use, we moved to a new house and focused on what we were going to need at the hospital.
It was never an option in my mind to kill my son. Ever. I never experienced a momentary lapse where I questioned whether or not I made the “right” decision. There was a baby growing in my belly, so I was going to have a baby. The only one who could decide when that precious life would be taken would be God.
I have heard time and time again, in many different scenarios the age old “do you want a boy, or a girl?” … and the scripted response is often “I don’t care, so long as it is healthy”
Those words hang in the air like deflated balloons after a birthday party ends.
“so long as it is healthy”
Most of the people saying this really don’t think it is a loaded statement. Their chances of having a “healthy” child are pretty good. In the US, birth statistics show varying odds, based on maternal age, weight, and ethnicity of anywhere from between 1:5000 to 1:250 of having something “wrong” with your child.
Bouncing off my husband’s post briefly- if you aren’t ready to have a baby, then don’t have sex… I agree with this wholeheartedly, but I take it a step further. If you aren’t prepared to accept a child for who they are (Down syndrome, cystic fibrosis, spina bifida, omphalocele, etc), then don’t have one. Period.
Parenting is not conditional love. It is not loving a child only when it is convenient for you. Parenting is rough. It is CHOOSING love every day, even through getting pooped/peed on, spit up on, hair pulled, scratched, kicked, bitten, fought, and even when you are the subject of wrath and anger by a small tyrant. Parenting is UNCONDITIONAL love… it means you choose love.
You choose love through the night when you have an important meeting the next morning. You choose love through your child changing their schedule around for the umpteenth time this week when you JUST thought you had it nailed. You choose love through their pain and sorrow, even when it means you are crying right along with them. You choose love when your child has a different way of looking at things, perceiving things, and even different ideas about how to attain a goal.
Love is not easy. Love is a choice.
Those few little words “as long as they’re healthy”…. suggest conditional love. It is a slippery slope, my friend, and one that I cringe to think about.
So you would withhold love if a set of criteria (especially outside of the control of the being in question) is not met? It is not your ideal, so therefore you cannot fathom it? In the early years, what if this means your child wants only to eat green foods? What if they don’t feel like potty training on your schedule? What if they bring home poor grades on their report card? What if they struggle to play the piano? What if they decide to be a chef instead of a lawyer?
Do you start to answer those questions with “it is okay, because…”? You shouldn’t. The answer should simply be “AWESOME!!!”
Having a child is your choice. I’m not talking about abortion being an option, I’m talking about having sex. You have self control. You are capable of saying “no”. You are even capable of putting the child up for adoption. But you have a choice.
Who they become? Not even remotely your choice.
Absolutely it is affected by who you are, what you expose them to, and how you treat them. But friends, it is NOT your choice.
There are so many, MANY families struggling with infertility that would LOVE a chance to raise any one of the babies that are murdered on a daily basis.