On July 7 the New York Times had what is doubtless their 666th pro-abort piece this year, an op ed by a woman celebrating her mother’s abortion. (So long as it wasn’t you being tossed out like so much garbage, right honey?) If you enjoy irony, go here to read it.
Katy French, an epidimeologist has written a grand response:
Merfish writes that her mom was 20, engaged to her dad, 21, both co-eds at Texas’ “public Ivy,” the University of Texas at Austin. My mother, Terry Cavnar French, was 18. She couldn’t afford to go to an elite college, and instead, lived at home and worked her way through the local commuter college, the University of Houston. She didn’t have a fiancé to lean on (the father was not in the picture), and was barely acknowledged by her dysfunctional parents. Her ninth month was spent at a home run by Catholic Charities.
Merfish writes that her parents, though about to graduate from college and marry, were simply not ready to be parents. They drove across states lines for an abortion. My mother wasn’t ready to be a parent either. She could have driven to another state, too. Instead, she drove to college, sitting in traffic every morning with the windows rolled down to try to beat the Houston heat in those pre-air conditioning days. Merfish writes that her parents were made to “feel like criminals” by the abortionist they visited. My mom was made to feel morning sickness-induced nausea from traffic fumes during her commute, often pulling to the side of the road to throw up and then back on the road to class.
Merfish writes with pride about her mom’s choice to kill her brother or sister because he or she was a few years early for her parents’ taste. Today, I’m writing with pride about my mom’s choice to save my brother’s life and give him a loving, intact family that could provide him the life he deserved. Merfish’s mom had to endure the judgmental attitudes of the abortionist. My mom had to endure months of morning sickness and ten hours of labor and delivery. Then she endured the pain of letting another woman, a woman who was ready to be a mom, take her baby boy home.
Merfish writes of the solidarity she felt with her mom while the two of them shouted down a Texas bill that would protect unborn babies who are old enough to recognize their mother’s voice, and would require unregulated Gosnell factories to meet the same hygiene standards as medical facilities in the state. Today, I’m writing of the solidarity I felt when my mom and I recently prayed at the hospital bedside of my sister’s baby. He had just been diagnosed with a genetic disease that would cripple and kill him in a few years. If the diagnosis had come a few months earlier, when he was still in the womb, many physicians would have handed my sister an abortion referral along with the test result. We later found out that the diagnosis was wrong. Luckily for him, he has a family that celebrates his life instead of a family that celebrates the killing of children on the altar of Almighty Convenience.
Merfish’s mom married her dad shortly after her abortion. They finished college and went on to have better-timed children and, presumably, successful lives. My mom later met a dashing grad student at that commuter college. They married, graduated, had two daughters, successful careers, and are now approaching a secure retirement. Choosing life, no matter how inconvenient, doesn’t have to end anyone’s chance at the American Dream.
Go here to read the rest. My maternal grandmother was seduced and abandoned in the middle of the Great Depression. However, she did not look upon my mother, the child born of her affair, as a problem but the light of her life. She rolled up her sleeves and went to work while my Mom was looked after by her maternal grandmother. Money was tight. The greatest luxury my Mom had growing up was on Saturday nights when she and her Mom had a glass of milk and a cookie each. Ultimately my grandmother met and married a longshoreman who became a father to my Mom, and a doting grandfather to her eventual children, myself and my brother. But for the courage of my maternal grandmother and her love for my Mom, my brother and I would never have come into existence alone with my three kids and his one. The choices we make in this life, for good and evil, rarely just impact ourselves but tend to resonate through time and eternity.