It was about a week shy of two years ago when I became a card-holding pro-lifer.
I think about it particularly today, which marks the 40th anniversary of Roe V. Wade.
Now don't get me wrong, I have really never much dabbled in any other position than that of the Pro Life Campaign. I remember speakers on the Sanctity of Human Life Sunday, and I believe that once in high school I picketed an abortion clinic. I didn't feel very good about it, and even in the moment felt a little sheepish, as if perhaps I didn't completely understand how my actions were accomplishing anything other than arousing hatred and discord.
But I recall the day when I made my vote count.
The 20-week ultrasound had shown us the day before that I was carrying around a little baby girl. And her heart was beating, and we were so thankful! The previous pregnancy had ended in a miscarriage even before we knew if our baby was a boy or girl. We had surpassed the magic 12 week mark on this pregnancy and had told our friends and relations. This time would be different, we sighed with relief!
The following morning, the phone rang with the news from my nurse that not all was well in the womb. Baby's heart was indeed beating... we'd seen that and reveled in that, and rejoiced in that. But there were not enough chambers in her heart.
An appointment was set up that afternoon with a perinatologist, as well as a genetic counselor. As we sat with the counselor with more questions than answers, she asked for our family's health history down to all the nitty-gritty male pattern baldness factors, etc. She seemed to be taking a long time and not really saying much or knowing much about our baby so I began to wonder how this was helpful to us. Apparently there MUST be some helpful piece of information we could give her about our health history that would in turn help our baby. As the hour-long visit stretched on she encouraged that I undergo a procedure - somewhat risky- that would determine if our baby girl also had Down's Syndrome, as there is a strong link between heart defects and Down's Syndrome babies. We didn't know... didn't see how it would be helpful information to have, since in a matter of months we would know anyways without putting our baby at risk. It was then that our probing came to the heart of the matter - "At a certain point there is a legality of terminating the pregnancy." Oh. I see. I get it. NOW I know why we're talking to you.
We walked down the hallway for our second visit, with the doctor who would become our baby's perinatologist. Dr. Stark confirmed the initial diagnosis of our baby's heart condition, and explained the course of action and the risks. There were tears. There weren't promises of success or health. There was a strong declaration of the strain this could put on our marriage. And there was hope given.
I am grateful for the doctor who explained the difficulty that was likely ahead, who respected us enough to give us the truth, and who pointed out the other parts of baby girl's body that were moving about on the ultrasound. A culture of life pervaded that room and the miriad of other rooms we entered for the many months and now years ahead of caring for our child.
We had left the first visit with the genetic counselor with annoyance and a strong statement that terminating the pregnancy was not on the order of business for us.
And we walked away knowing that we were doing the right thing, though also recognizing that we were entering turbulent waters. But in the quiet of that night and quite a number of nights to follow I cried, knowing that I was carrying a baby with big "owies". My hope of a healthy baby was gone. My fears of losing another child only increased. I didn't do much to decorate or prepare the nursery, and I didn't let myself think too much of why that was.
That day, in the counselor's office, I felt I earned my card. That day I had to face the reality that I could not protect my child from pain and illness even while I carried her inside me. And I couldn't make her how I would want her to be - perfect, of course. It is a realization that all parents must come to at some point; some sooner than others.
Tonight my baby girl sleeps peacefully in her crib, unaware of any of this. But her life will always be affected by our choice. And my belief in the sacred-ness of life has been strengthened by that day when I felt the cost. The cost: that maybe I would say yes to this child, and would lose her in the first hours of her life. Life is so very precious, such a gift.
May we live- really live, today. And may we help others to do the same, particularly the little and big ones who need us to stand for them.
