I am not an earth-shaker.
I’m not a politician.
I’m not very opinionated.
I’m certainly not argumentative.
Most of my words center around the things I see every day. I write about what I love. I write about the ordinary. The simple. The quiet.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
I don’t know you, but your story is heavy on my heart.
And since I don’t know who you are or where you live, I want to give you my words today and pray that they will find you, wherever you are.
I don’t know what has happened in your life that has brought you to this decision you’re trying to make.
Were you hurt?
Were you taken advantage of?
Were you simply not planning this?
Are you just not ready?
I have no idea, and I will not pretend that I can understand the pain or fear that you are experiencing.
But there is one thing I do know.
Abortion is a lie.
It is a quick fix that tells you “we can just pretend like this never happened”, all while preying on the most innocent and voiceless victims on the planet.
We can’t hear their cries.
We can’t read their thoughts.
We can’t see their pain.
And in a guise of “women’s rights” we strip theirs completely away in the most epic display of bullying the world has ever known.
What blindness! We, who take so much pride in championing tolerance and in protecting freedom…
we throw our inconvenient children away.
And I just wonder if the people who would encourage you to discreetly dispose of your baby will be there for you during those moments days, months, years later when your heart is crying out for the flesh and blood that once resided within you?
Will the ones who proclaim and pamper your rights have anything to offer you after the job is done other than a pamphlet and a receipt?
Will the abortion clinic send someone to counsel you if you live to regret your decision?
Do they really care about you?
It sure doesn’t seem like it from my perch.
Their world looks awfully cold to me.
I’m not going to share all the pro-life arguments with you in this letter. You’ve heard them. And if you haven’t, you can read them all over the internet.
But here’s what it comes down to for me, today…
This was my first baby, Gideon, when he was hidden away inside of me…
This is Gideon today.
He is seven years old, with an imagination as big as the sky. He loves wearing costumes and drawing pencil sketches and playing tag. His eyes dance when he is happy and his soul is old and complex.
This was Rebekah…
This is Rebekah today.
She is four, and the world has been a better place since the day of her birth. She cares about people, and she brings light and love to everything she touches. When she grows up she wants to be a nurse and an artist and a farmer.
This was Betsie…
This is Betsie today.
At the age of two, she is full of joy and energy, and when she laughs, your heart can’t help but smile. I feel like the luckiest person alive to watch her grow up, and I can’t imagine a day when she didn’t exist.
This was Shepherd…
This is Shepherd today.
He is 8 months old, and is the softest and sweetest baby I’ve ever held. And when he looks at me, I don’t know that I’ve ever felt more loved in my entire life.
Each one was just a fuzzy picture on a sonogram machine…
They were hidden in my stomach.
They were nameless and faceless.
They felt like a cramp.
And now, here they are, changing my life and changing the world.
I know you’re scared…
I was scared, too.
I know you don’t feel ready…
I honestly wasn’t ready, either.
You might be afraid of what you’re going to lose…
I was terrified to “lose myself”.
And you might simply be ambivalent.
But, regardless of what brought you to this point, you have a baby in your tummy.
A baby that deserves to live.
A baby that will someday be a swaddled-up newborn, then a precious toddler, then an imaginative preschooler, then a beautiful big kid who is discovering the world…
a baby who will someday have the voice and the ability to show you that he or she has rights, too.
Until then, you are the only one who can protect your child.
Please, don’t believe the lie. There are so many options for you that do not include aborting your baby.
You’re a mama now.
Because this is such a controversial subject, all comments will be closed. You can leave a comment, but I’ll be the only one to read it.
If this blog post angers you or gets you all fired up about politics or causes you to think I’m an idiot, I invite you to mull that over on your own and discuss it with your friends. Please don’t waste your time with silly ol’ Mrs. Gore.
But, please, if you are pregnant and need help or direction to a crisis pregnancy center or a church in your area, message me at my Facebook page and we’ll do whatever we can to help you. You are not alone, and that’s a promise.