NOTE: 8 July 2013 – I wrote this post in November of last year, and never let myself publish it. In reviewing old drafts, I reread it and decided most of what I wrote, I would not edit. For honesty’s sake, I will share this.
This post might make you angry. And others cringe. I know for a fact some of my readers will start thinking of how far I have come from my roots. That’s fine. I don’t mind leaving my roots if some of them are wrong.
Here’s the thing. I have always been pro-life. I was picketing for the repeal of Roe v. Wade before I even knew how to read. After graduating from High School, I volunteered twice a week at a local crisis pregnancy center. I know all the dates regarding the formation of heart, hands and the sensation of pain. I believe that a life created is a life, even if it was unintended and will complicate things.
Know why? Because, somehow, I have stumbled into a “justifiably abortable” situation, a place where a child was conceived through an act of utter cruelty and violence. A young girl who is not mature enough to remember to bathe daily, has become a mother. The child was saved. Life was protected.
What is a family with two new additions. Countless people stepping in daily to help. Me on the floor cutting up clothes to make half-decent clothes. Financial donations. Short nights, exhaustion, worry, anxiety, fear and disillusionment. And the baby is only three weeks old.
Who will care for the baby next month? Who will provide for the mother?
Who convinced her that keeping the baby, raising it solo, was the best decision? Where are they now? Someone protected the sanctity of human life, but are they here to raise that life? [Note: To my knowledge, in this situation, the people involved in the decision, did stay alongside the mother and help as long as she allowed.]
Pro-LIFE. Has very little to do with conception and a pile of prenatal vitamins. And everything to do with 2 am feedings, proper education, financial support, photography on the first day of school, a job next year, a break from monotony, a paid-for vacation. Who will be there in five years? Ten? Twenty when this mom is actually old enough to consider a relationship, but is too busy struggling to make ends meet on less than a high school education and a rambunctious teen.
You say you’re pro-LIFE. But maybe you’re just pro-pregnancy, pro-preservation, pro-smiles and trips to Ikea. Okay. Be pro-Life. But please don’t talk to me about it unless you have walked alongside someone who’s living out the consequences of that belief.
It’s easy to be pro-life when you live in the suburbs with your husband and topnotch schools for your perfectly spaced children.
It isn’t easy to be pro-LIFE when you’re walking a colicky baby at 1 am, taking “your turn” so mom can be a good mom in 6 hours, but wondering if you’ll be good employee in 8 hours. Then. The morning-after makes sense. Sterilization makes sense. Murder of rapists makes sense.
Pro-life isn’t a poster or a donation or a walk or an office visit.
It’s a very, very long journey. And I dare you to experience it.