I had been pro-life like forever. I remember having an argument in 6th grade and switching to the Republican side when I realized that “Bill Clinton wants abortions”.
So I read the books, went to the banquets, and talked about someday volunteering at the clinics.
And then a close friend of ours had an unexpected pregnancy. She was young. Gene and I hadn’t had any children yet. We knew that terminating the pregnancy was in their plans. We had the couple over. We said we would help. They cried and we cried.
I have no idea if the stuff I said that night was kosher. But I remember thinking that this wasn’t supposed to happen. In all the stories, the person changes her mind right? The friend offers love and support and she chooses life. The baby ends up living. (and possibly writing a book).
That’s not this story.
I wish they would have changed their mind. They didn’t. I wish she would have learned from this experience. She didn’t. I wish there would be another eight year old running around. There’s not.
When I see her we stop and chat. We chit-chat and act normal, but we never spoke about it again.
I’ve heard that aborted babies are the forgotten ones. No baby, you are not forgotten.
So why was this a defining moment? It showed me the darkness of my own heart. Since she made her own bed I wanted her to lie in it. I wanted her to be haunted by the little one. I wanted her hands to feel empty. I wanted her to have sleepless nights. Sometimes I still want that.
Now though more than anything I want to be able to say “God please forgive her, she didn’t know what she did.”
It’s so much easier to love the babies than to love the mothers.
Have a wonderful Thursday everybody,