Perhaps, with postpartum hormones a swirling, I'm a little more emotional than usual. Maybe, because our recent delivery of Keturah was a little scary with a partial placental abrubtion, I'm more sensitive to the preciousness of life. Or maybe it's just that I am so tired of the trite platitudes that women use to justify their decision to kill their babies with Down syndrome. I'm tired of not being able to respond to the ill-informed reasons they give. I'm tired of reacting with compassion and "tolerance". I'm tired of reading that I'm the selfish one for giving my baby life. I'm tired of hearing that my child is "suffering" when clearly he is not.
Yesterday, I read a comment by a mom who terminated her pregnancy for T21. She wrote that her little boy is "at peace". Well, guess what?!? My little boy with T21 is at peace, too! He's at peace when he's sleeping safe and secure in his crib. He's at peace when he's playing trucks and cars with his brothers or wrestling with his dad.
He's at peace when he "holds me" at the end of a long day. He's at peace when he's coloring pictures at the dining room table or eating his favorite dessert. He's at peace as he embraces life at full-throttle. He's lived a full 21 months now, with many years to come...all of them "at peace".
We are blessed that he is not a memory, but a living, breathing, joyful little boy...at peace!
Just writing the above changes my heart to one of compassion for the women I started out so angry at. That's all they have...a memory of some kicks in the womb, a trip to a clinic or a hospital induction, all cloaked in a shroud of fear and grief. Of course they hold steadfast to the platitudes, it's all they have. To face the truth at this point, to have their carefully crafted lies fray even a little, would cause them unbearable pain.
My anger is misplaced. I wish I could see people through the eyes of my Jesus who grieves as I do for the injustices done to those little ones that He created, and yet, who loves and sees with compassion the women who caused the injustices to occur. It's difficult this despising of sin and setting aside pride to embrace the one who sins. I'm not very good at it when anger and bitterness seem so much more satisfying. Pointing the finger is easy; reaching out a hand is decidedly not. Maybe someday, I'll have the opportunity to do the latter. I hope that I'll be willing to do so.