For the 42nd anniversary of Roe v. Wade, this previously published blog post has been updated and revised.
I am not known as an earth-shaker.
I’m not a politician.
I’m not too terribly 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 or panic that you are experiencing.
But there is one thing I do know.
Abortion is a lie.
It parades as this harmless act of grace, a helpful service that whispers “we can just pretend like this never happened”, but underneath the sterile facade is a grisly industry that ruthlessly preys on the most innocent and voiceless victims on the planet.
We can’t hear those baby’s cries as their lives are being snuffed out.
We can’t read their thoughts.
We can’t see their pain.
And under this seemingly enlightened guise of “women’s rights” we strip theirs completely away in the most epic display of bullying the world has ever known.
We, a great and liberated nation, who take so much pride in championing tolerance and in protecting freedom…
we throw our inconvenient children away.
I’m not going to share all the pro-life arguments with you in this letter. You’ve probably heard them already. And if you haven’t, you can read them all over the internet.
But here’s what it comes down to for me, today, and I hope it gives you courage…
This was my first baby, Gideon, when he was hidden in my womb…
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.
Gideon was real when he was in my tummy and he is real today.
This was Rebekah…
This is Rebekah today.
She is five, 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.
Rebekah was real when she was in my tummy and she is real today.
This was Betsie…
This is Betsie today.
At the age of three, 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.
Betsie was real when she was in my tummy and she is real today.
This was Shepherd…
This is Shepherd today.
He is 16 months old, and is the sweetest boy I’ve ever known. And when he looks at me, I don’t know that I’ve ever felt more loved in my entire life.
Shepherd was real when he was in my tummy and he is real today.
Before each of these children were born, they were 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.
And the only difference between who they were then and who they are now is that they’ve grown older. Simple as that.
Oh, my. I know you’re scared…
I was scared to have a baby, 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 who is real. A baby who is alive.
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, Mama, you are the only person on the planet 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.
Because this is such a controversial and sensitive subject, comments will be tightly monitored.
Feel free to share, with gentleness, and if you are pregnant and need help, message me at my Facebook page. You are not alone, and that’s a promise.