The Language of Abortion
The day before yesterday my fourth great grandbaby was born. Mindy, the expectant mother to be and I were left alone, while she timed her contractions. Her husband, my grandson, was at work; my wife was away in another city on an errand. Mindy was eating an ice-cream cone. Mindy continued to check the app on her phone, measuring the time between contractions.
Mindy had been having intermittent contractions all day. I told her I would leave the door open to my den and to call out if anything changed. I never heard from Mindy so after a few hours I found her in the basement, still timing her contractions. Immediately they moved from seven minutes apart to six. I panicked while Mindy remained very calm.
Linda had taken the car, and all I had to get her to the hospital was a 1929 Mercedes Benz kit car, scaled down to the size of an amusement park ride and an old GMC pickup with oversized tires filled with garbage. I am six-foot one inch and have to screw myself into the kit car. It was impossible for Mindy to fit. My 1985 GMC pickup was filled to overflowing with garbage bags from a recent family reunion and with tree limbs, and huge clumps of grass from a general yard clean up. It was filthy inside and out, but it had to do.
The oversized tires required a small ladder to get in, but it was our only option. I have pictures to prove my story. Mindy calmy managed to climb in, and I drove, impatiently blocked by unforgiving redlights and very slow traffic unconscious of our emergency. It turned out, however, that the emergency was more in my panicked mind than in the eminent birth of the baby. This was in the afternoon. Mindy’s husband was waiting at the emergency entrance in response of a text from both his wife and from me. The baby waited until fifteen minutes before midnight before it decided to make its entry from heaven into this beautiful blue planet. Theo is my fourth great grandchild, a handsome little boy born to parents who will delightfully spoil him.
Everyone is appalled by the death of a baby, including those who fervently believe in abortion; therefore, it is perhaps helpful to examine how partial birth abortion, abortion on the day of birth, can be justified. It begins with a cause and ends with language.
A mother does not announce that she is having a fetus. A mother proudly announces that she is having a baby, even from the first discovery that she is pregnant. Perhaps there is no greater moment in the pregnancy than the feel of that first kick. Luke, the physician, describes the joy of the once barren Elisabeth when she felt life in her body:
“41 And it came to pass, that, when Elisabeth heard the salutation of Mary, the babe leaped in her womb; and Elisabeth was filled with the Holy Ghost.” (Luke 1:41)
For the liberal agenda, the cause of women’s rights is greater than the cause of a baby’s rights; therefore, the ends justify the means. They do not consider the evils of abortion of a viable baby; they consider only the virtue of a woman’s right to have an abortion.
However, they still must separate themselves from the act of abortion of a living human being; therefore, they resort to language. To a mother, a fetus carried in her womb is human life. It was heartwarming to see Mindy rub her stomach lovingly as if she were stroking the child itself. There was a joy in her face. To abortionists, it is still, even in the latest stage, medical tissue. In that way they divorce themselves from the reality of taking a human life.
Create your
podcast in
minutes
It is Free