My mother almost didn’t deliver me. There was too much against her. She had started to miscarry numerous times, and endured several trips to the emergency room, and various uncomfortable procedures. From early in her pregnancy she was on bed rest, and couldn’t even stand up long enough to wash the dishes. Her husband, my father, was not very understanding and supportive, and tended to think of such behavior as laziness and an inconvenience to him.
Worst of all, however, was the attitude of the medical profession at the time. They told my mother that her inability to carry me to term was evidence that I was malformed in the womb and that nature was trying to do her a favor by sloughing me off. The term they used for me was that I was a “little monster.” If abortion had been legal, they would have been within their professional rights, in fact it would have been a professional duty, to suggest an abortion.
MY mother was hearing none of that. To her I was a precious gift, sent by God, and she was going to fight for me with every ounce of strength within her being. And the medical professionals had better get on board with that, and her husband better get on board with that, because THAT’S THE WAY IT WAS GOING TO BE! My mother chose life. And that is why I am writing this to you today.
That is why I am alive. That is why I have four children. That is why their two lovely spouses have excellent partners. That is why there are four wonderful grandchildren -- Violet, Noah, Elizabeth and Shane -- who are gracing our world and growing up to to love God and to make it a better place.
My mother chose life. She chose ME. She chose the way of love and sacrifice. I am glad I was born.
