The Ones Lost and Destroyed 

Now the word of the LORD came to me, saying, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.” (Jeremiah 1:4-5)

There are so many good causes in this world.  You can run for the cure (cancer,) wear a coloured ribbon representative of some worthy cause, donate to the Red Cross to help people in the Philippines overcome the devastation they have experienced in the last couple weeks, or you can even start your own cause — big or small.  Me? I am in awe of one mom — a friend of mine– for the funds she has personally raised in the hope of finding a cure for her son’s disease, SMA.

Right now though, the thoughts of unborn babies are on my mind.  My husband and I agree that we are finished having children.  We are very happy with our three little boys — even though we do tease each other about this.  I have friends who are pregnant right now though and I can’t help thinking of the little baby growing inside them.  What a miracle a growing child within can be.

Abortion though takes away from the miracle.  I make this point with no condemnation to anyone who has chosen this option. I was put here to love, not judge. Still, I feel that I can speak what I believe to be true. If abortion is a decision you have made, then I ask that you read what I have written below with love only.  There is no intention in my words to cause hurt.

But every year, we see new laws in Canada being passed. Meanwhile, we see the statistics on abortion growing and as each year passes, more lives have been snuffed out.  A small, precious, and amazing miracle has just been destroyed and that thought makes me hurt.  I think of so many friends and family who would love to have been able to conceive and give birth. Sometimes, I find myself questioning God on His wisdom.  Questioning God though, is not something I am qualified to do so we will skip that.

April of 2008, I found out that I was pregnant.  It was a moment of pure joy for me.  I remember running down the stairs to my husband who was cooking supper and grabbing him around the neck to tell him the news.  We danced and cried and I could not contain my excitement.  My step mom showed up a little while later and she could see in my face that something was different.  There was so much joy in that moment.

Every night, my husband rubbed my stomach.  I started making a quilt for this little one.  I constantly wondered about names!  Kelly or Isaac — the two names we had finally chosen.  Would it be a boy or a girl?  Would she have my eyes or would he be tall like his dad?  There was so much thought put into this little baby growing inside of me that we couldn’t help but tell the whole world.  How do you not spread that kind of joy?

On May 21, that joy came to a crashing halt when I discovered I was bleeding.  My husband drove me to the hospital and with my dad standing beside the bed holding my hand and praying, the doctor came in and told me that he was setting up an ultrasound for me that evening.  He did his best to offer me hope and told me to try not to worry as “spotting” is normal.

At my ultrasound, I got to see my baby for the first time.  A little tiny 8-week old embryo that was hardly more than a dot on the screen.  The heartbeat was not yet audible but on the screen we could see that little heart beating.  This is where the doctor told me the heartbeat seemed slow but otherwise, everything looked good.  She told me to go home and rest. Try not to worry, she said.

In an effort to keep hope alive, my husband began painting the baby’s room.  I sat on the floor clutching my baby’s quilt watching him paint the room into a bright yellow.  I can still remember the smell.  I can also remember the moment where things took a turn for the worse.

I was at home when I felt something within me change. I had started bleeding but the bleeding was much heavier this time.  I yelled for my husband who had to carry me to the car. My step mom came with us to the hospital and I know she prayed the whole way.  At the hospital, I had another ultrasound and the doctor told me that it was 50/50 whether or not I would carry this baby.  I was to go home for the weekend and come in on Tuesday to see the OBGYN for confirmation on how the baby was doing.

Over the weekend, I knew that I had lost my baby.  My body told me in every way possible that there was no way I was keeping this baby. On Tuesday, sitting in a cold sterile room, I listened to my doctor tell me that there was no more heart beat.  My heart has never felt as broken as it did in that moment.  I had never felt so incomplete.  He or she – my baby was gone. Looking back, God had a different plan for my life.

This does not mean that I don’t remember what I went through that weekend, or the moments since when I remember how happy I was to know that there was a new life growing inside of me. So please let me say this. For those of you who believe that abortion is a correct way of dealing with an unwanted pregnancy, I urge you to speak to a mom who has miscarried.  I urge you to listen to their pain and feel how much their empty arms ache.  Watch them and see how they will find themselves caressing an empty stomach for just a moment before the reality comes crashing back upon them again.  Listen to them explain over and over to friends and family how they lost their baby.  Or help dry the tears that these mothers cry in the lonely hours.

I can guarantee that even your opinion will change on how much that little baby – with only a dot representing a beating heart — is truly a life.

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