You’ll likely notice that the blog has been fairly quiet in the last week. We don’t usually go dark this long.
I’ve been struggling to blog, even with the writing of very short posts.
I was overwhelmed by the terrorist attack in my city, Ottawa.
I’m sick. My husband is sick. My son is sick. We’re all tired.
I just finished writing an essay about abortion for a publication. It required considerable academic research and spending days reading about the conclusive evidence that abortion hurts a significant number of women and their partners. (Informed consent, anyone?) That left me emotionally drained.
And doing pro-life work, even volunteer activities while on mat leave, is harder for me than it was in my pre-motherhood days.
Last week, I came across an article regarding the ethics of killing children who survive abortion procedures. I was nearly sick. And I was nearly sick every time I looked at my precious baby that day. I was gagging. The revulsion was real and it was physical.
In Western society, we apparently need to debate whether, looking into the eyes of a living, breathing, screaming child, we should kill him/her. Because the child survived our initial attempt at killing him/her.
I could swear and scream right now still thinking about that article. I’ve been doing pro-life work for some time. I know this isn’t the first time that issue is raised. But it’s the first time I’ve really had to think about it since giving birth to my son a few months ago. I look at him and think about all the little boys and girls like him who have been killed, who will be killed, and who are being killed right now.
I’m angry. I’m sad. And I feel sick.
We live in one of the best countries in the world, and I’m proud to be Canadian. But we’re legally killing 100,000 of our little Canadians per year.
[TWEETBLOCK text=”Tweet this”] I’m proud to be Canadian. But we’re legally killing 100,000 of our little Canadians per year. [/TWEETBLOCK]
There are some days that I cannot wrap my head around that stat. Today is one of those days.
Canada is one of the great defenders of human rights. For everyone, except those of their own citizens who happen to be at an early stage of growth and development. They have no recognized human rights.
So here I am tonight, without much to blog about but feeling PWPL really ought to produce something. I’m down and frankly a little depressed.
I’m digging through my email and checking my listservs for something to write about. I follow a few links and then land on the page for National Abortion Federation (NAF). Who are they?
The National Abortion Federation (NAF) is the professional association of abortion providers in North America. We believe that women should be trusted to make private medical decisions in consultation with their health care providers.
For some reason, it never occurred to me that there would be a national association for abortion providers. Pretty dumb eh? And you know what my mind went to? I thought, “My gosh, their conferences and Christmas parties must be so depressing.”
Really. That was my first thought. Why? Because killing children as a career strikes me as a depressing job. So getting together to talk about it would only serve to emphasize the loss and sadness associated with that chosen career.
But their parties probably aren’t all doom and gloom. Because they believe on some or maybe all levels that they are helping women by helping them kill their children. Well-meaning health practitioners and doctors are dismembering and killing babies in the hopes of helping women. They are doing so even if studies from Canada, the United States, and Sweden clearly show that there are negative outcomes for a significant number of women and their male partners following their abortions. And of course all the dead babies whom they did not consider their patients.
All these stories and articles and heck, professional associations, break my heart. My heart breaks for the children lost, but also for the women and the men involved, and even for the professionals who participate. Abortion is a tragedy for all.
I can’t look at my son and not be more convicted about the good, the necessary and the vital work that pro-lifers do every day. I need to find some way to battle the staggering sadness and revulsion. And I need to keep hoping and loving and suggesting that there is a better way forward for our society.
One that is pro-woman, pro-child and pro-life.
