I’m 39-weeks pregnant with a baby that could have been legally aborted. And apparently, if aborted at Planned Parenthood, my baby could have been ripped apart and it’s body parts sold for profit.
It breaks my heart to write about my unborn baby like that. But I cannot stay silent when every night laying in bed, my baby kicks with life inside me, while millions of it’s fellow babies in utero are killed and silenced forever legally.
I am not a thumb-sucking pregnant Pollyanna at my computer on this issue. I have brushed shoulders since I was a teenager with the often not-so-pretty aftermath of women that chose life for their babies.
I have held the quivering knees of countless teenage girls as they birthed their babies in hospitals when I worked for one of the largest adoption agencies in the country as a childbirth coach to their brave clients. After the baby was born, some of the girls didn’t want to see or hold their new baby. Others held their new, wet baby, but there was often no one else in the room but me. “Would you like to call anyone to tell them the news?” I asked. Often the reply was a no-eye-contact, sheepish, “No. There’s no one.”
(90% of boyfriends breakup with their teenage girlfriend when they discover she is planning to keep the baby. These girls choose to forgo their school, friends, college scholarships, figure, families, reputation, and their future plans to give their babies life. They could have chosen one simple abortion appointment and no one would know.)
The tear-filled goodbye from the teenage mother to their child is hard to watch. But I wish you all could witness the tears of joy as an adoptive couple holds their adopted baby for the first time, often after years of dashed hopes and waiting. I’ve sat in on birth panels and heard grown adopted children tell their stories, adoptive parents gush with love for their child from a stranger and grown birth mothers talk about adoptive decision aftermath – they are modern day heroes in my book.
As a journalist of a national news magazine, I covered the effects of sonograms in pregnancy help centers. I watched from a corner of a dark room as abortion-minded teenage girls saw their wriggling baby on a screen. I’ll never forget the grin that broke out when one girl heard the THUD, THUD, THUD of her baby’s heartbeat for the first time.
(A baby’s heart starts beating only 18 days after conception. 18 days.)
I volunteered at a pregnancy help center answering phones, folding baby clothes, sorting diapers and yes, sitting in on counseling sessions with pregnant women in limbo. The stories are not all beautiful. There are drugs, homeless living, terrified teenagers that want to end the positive pregnancy test nightmare, angry grandparents-to-be, and irate boyfriends. There’s no quick solution. Unwanted pregnancies are messy.
But messy or not, these babies are alive and deserve the chance to live.
When I went in for the eight-week sonogram of the baby now in my womb, we delighted in our precious squirming baby on the screen with a flickering, steady heartbeat. I couldn’t stop smiling as tears of joy drained off my cheeks. But when I walked through the glass doors to exit, I shuddered and turned to my husband, “Can you believe we could go legally kill this baby right now if we wanted to? I cannot believe abortion is still legal.”
We have two healthy, beautiful blonde children – a boy and a girl – and are expecting this third baby any day. My children love my big baby belly: they talk to the baby, kiss the baby, hug the baby. And yet after I tuck my little darlings in bed at night and retreat to bed with swollen pregnant feed, my Facebook feed is full of the horrors to innocent, voiceless babies, just like mine, that are being killed and sold for profit BY THE MILLIONS.
To the brave ones that had the guts to film and produce the atrocious Planned Parenthood videos, I salute you. To the mothers that choose life for their babies above their own comfort, I salute you. To the pro-life movement that serves all over the country, I salute you. I will never be silent on this issue. We must be the voice for the silent babies.