Today marked the anniversary of the day the Supreme Court of the United States decided that killing babies was cool, as long as you did it before they were fully independent of their mothers' wombs, and as long as the mothers participated willingly in the killing. Forty years ago, the court chose to speak not for the innocent, undefended unborn, but for the mother's momentary selfishness. With their decision in Roe vs. Wade, they voted in favor of providing abortions on demand.
As a woman, I can always sympathize with others who look at children and say, "I can't cope with that chaos." I couldn't do it, myself. Other women were built of sterner stuff than I, other women have made, and will make far better mothers than I.
But that's no excuse for killing. A child is no threat to most people's lives. Sure, there is the rare occasion when pregnancy is so complicated that there is risk to the mother's life, but we make accommodations in law for special circumstances – call them justifiable actions. As long as a pregnancy is not going to kill a woman, there really is no logical way to view an unborn human as anything like a threat (no, inconvenience is not threatening, merely nuisance). And, if it is no threat, how can one justify bringing about its untimely demise?
Oh, but the argument goes that it's better a child never be born than to grow up unloved, knowing it was unwanted. Have any of these people talked to adoption agencies, these days? There is no such thing as an unwanted baby, only a baby whose love has not yet been found for it. Thousands upon thousands of individuals and couples are desperate to add a child to their lives, and, for one reason or another, are biologically denied that opportunity to share their love. And, the abortion industry makes it that much harder for them, by preventing many an adoptable child from being born at all. So many empty arms should break mankind's heart, if only you looked their way!
I'm not saying that giving birth and then giving away the child is an easy option. I've done it. It's confusing. It's agonizing. First, you have to deal with your body doing things you didn't think it should, and, once the child is born, you have to trust people you probably don't even know, with legalities and with the life you brought into the world. And then, it's frustrating. And melancholic. You've started something, and don't get to see how the story goes.
But, then, some years down the line, if you're lucky, you'll get to see that what you brought into this world not only made another person or family joyful, but that little bit of optimism brought forth a decent human being who bears forth the next generation, and it's ultimately satisfying in a way you never anticipated: it's exhilarating.
Even if you never get to see the end result, there is a point when you realize that the life you brought forth was a gift, and, no matter how briefly that gift was on the planet, it was the bright spot in somebody's life.
Unselfish acts can do wonders for your own sense of self-worth.
But the people who have been celebrating today's anniversary will never comprehend the joy of having faith in others. For all their "sympathy" for the woman caught in an unexpected pregnancy, there is no sense of anything but contempt for the pregnancy itself. They argue that an unborn child is not a child, but a "blob of tissue, not human at all,"until it is able to breathe on its own. They believe that a child is an obstacle, an inconvenience, instead of the key to the future.
They can not see that a single person – however unexpected – can make a positive difference. They have not learned to trust in humanity. They have forgotten how to hope.
After forty years, they have learned nothing, and have unlearned too much.