This isn’t my best writing, I’ll admit. And it doesn’t even have a reference to flowers! The original was a hasty response to a friend who thinks that abortion is an answer to save the life (or financial security, maybe) of the mother. We are nearing the end of an election cycle in which the choices for president may well be affect the lives (or deaths) of thousands of babies. I have been asked to put my story into a blog post.
Much has been said to promote abortion to save the life of a mother. It would seem to be a strong argument, since our natural compassion would normally make us think, “I wouldn’t want to have to face that choice, and don’t know what I would do if I were in that tough position.”
Well, I was there 24 years ago. After my third child, I was told in no uncertain terms by my doctor that any future childbirth would kill me. To my horror, I became pregnant nine years later. My rare blood type usually prevented my body from sustaining a pregnancy, and Planned Parenthood said I didn’t qualify for free contraceptives since we were an “intact family.” Since surviving Toxic Shock Syndrome 7 years before, I had developed severe joint problems, especially in the knees. They were wrapped in Ace bandages so that I could walk with crutches, and when they were not wrapped I used a wheelchair. We had no money at the time of this pregnancy, and had been homeless only months previous to this. I was too old, too sick, and too poor to have a baby!
In a few days, the signs of impending miscarriage appeared. I knew them well; my blood type is known for miscarriages. Instead of being relieved, I prayed with all my might that the baby would live! To this day, I don’t know why I prayed like this. Maybe it was because it was the one-year anniversary of another miscarriage, with a pregnancy discovered at my pre-op appointment for knee surgery, which was then canceled. Knees are replaceable, babies – wanted or unwanted – are not!
Hearing the further advice of the doctors was unbearable, so I chose to have the baby at a midwifery center. I had had a home birth previously, but did not want to die at the place where my family would have to live. I talked to many people about the care of my family if I should die. It wasn’t morbid at all, I had clinically “died” when the Toxic Shock attacked my body seven years before. Maybe I had the advantage to knowing that death for a Christian is a lovely experience!
The thought of killing the innocent life growing inside me was not even imaginable! What had she done? Why should she die so that I could live? There are some things that the Lord hates. One of them is “hands that shed innocent blood” (Proverbs 6:17). What could be more innocent than the Type B blood of my baby Erika, different than my own Type A Anti-P1 blood?
Now let’s talk briefly about other reasons to terminate a pregnancy. What if the mother develops a hole in her abdominal wall mid-pregnancy, and her intestines get trapped between the uterus and the hole? Imagine the fear in her eyes as she touches her belly just below her belly button, and the ever-enlarging lump gurgles? Then imagine what could happen if this occurred later as her belly expands, and it doesn’t resolve? Her intestines could burst and she could die of sepsis.
No, for a Christian woman that wasn’t a good enough reason to “take the baby” early, as the midwife put it to me. The complications and risks were explained, and the decision was made to prolong the pregnancy as long as possible before emergency surgery would have to be done. Then, and only then, would they be permitted to “take the baby,” and only without violence to the innocent life causing so much risk to both of us. An uncomfortable elastic “sling” was prescribed, and hernia strangulation was dealt with by other measures.
My knees actually improved during pregnancy, probably due to growth hormones, and I sold the wheelchair at 7 months!
The grim scenario of bleeding to death that was painted for me at the birth of my second and then third child was providentially thwarted by an unusual placement of baby girl’s placenta. We didn’t know this until after the birth, even though ultrasounds were made after the car wreck that broke my sternum and bruised my belly and chest the day before the due date. Oh, sorry! I don’t even have time or space here to adequately praise God for His providence on that one in THIS post! Short story; she turned breech just hours before the wreck, giving the worst blow to her back and legs instead of head and neck.
DO NOT EVER, EVER, EVER tell ME that it is a “tough choice” by a mother. THERE IS NO CHOICE! Well, except choosing eternal life over the passing pleasures of sin for a season. Choice? I chose life, not that there was any question. Baby girl is now choosing to prepare herself to serve God in medical missions after graduating in two months and becoming an RN.
God help this nation as we strive to teach God’s principles in a lost and sinful world. My “baby” and I are living proof that God provides for His own. If I had died, He still would have provided, and I wouldn’t have had that crashing migraine this morning. God is good no matter what. Period. End of story. Choose life!
“The Girl Who Lived” is far right.
serenityandsongbirds 