Her Story

46 years ago, a woman was expecting a baby.  She was already the mother to an eight year old daughter and a five year old son.  She had severe endometriosis and, by all reasonable thought, should not have been able to conceive another baby.

Yet, to her surprise, she did.

She visited the Obstetrician and when she expressed her wonder at the unexpected pregnancy, the doctor informed her, quite seriously, that she did not have to keep this baby.  It was now legal for her to have an abortion.  The woman was horrified at his words and quickly told the doctor that she wanted her baby.

She wanted me.

This is my Mother’s story and I was the baby that the doctor offered to abort.

My Story

Close to 19 years ago, I sat huddled in a ball on my bathroom floor, as my hands shook and silent tears slid down my cheeks.  I was holding my first, long-awaited, positive pregnancy test.  Only I knew the depth of heartache that had transpired before I held that test in my hands.

Because of those secrets, I wanted to hold this most precious secret close to my heart until I was ready to share the good news, but just six weeks along in the pregnancy, I began to bleed.  Not little amounts but huge, massive clots.  What followed were weeks upon weeks of appointments, blood work, and ultrasounds, as doctors worked to monitor the life of my baby and determine what was going wrong.  I was told that I would most likely lose this precious little life.

I remember looking at the massive clots as they left my body, trying to discern if my baby was among them.  I remember taking the very first images of my baby taken from an early ultrasound to our family members so we could share the good news of life and the potential bad news of death.  In those images, my baby was only weeks in the process of life and yet, there he was … a beautiful, tiny person, in his own right.

By the time I was halfway through the pregnancy, the bleeding had stopped and even though the doctors believed that everything had stabilized, I lived in constant fear that I might still lose this life valiantly fighting inside me.

I remember the 20 week ultrasound and the incredible relief I felt when I saw my baby; His fingers and toes, his beating heart, and wiggling body that seemed intent on escaping from the Ultrasound Technician’s pursuit.  I remember my eyes filling with tears as I learned my baby truly was okay and thriving inside of me.

For the first time, I felt free to enjoy the journey of pregnancy and soon, fully embraced the journey.

I remember the flutter inside when my little one grew large enough to make his presence known.

I remember his little feet seeming as though he was trying to kick his way out as he grew larger.

I remember my belly rolling from one side to the other as he wiggled and squirmed.

I remember the odd sensation when he developed a case of the hiccups.

I remember the feeling of life growing inside of me.

Instinct to protect this little life grew stronger with each passing day.

I woke in the early morning hours of February 28. 2001 to a puddle of water in my bed … three and a half weeks before my due date.  I was alone and terribly afraid for myself and my baby.

I called my husband, who was states away driving truck.  I called the mid-wife, who told me to get to the hospital.  Then I called my parents, who drove me there.

What followed was a long, uncertain day and finally, a rushed and rough delivery with numerous issues along the way.

But finally, this little life was born.

My son, Tyler Jacob.

At 37 1/2 weeks gestation.

Perfectly formed.

Completely whole.

And absolutely beautiful.

That night, as I finally dropped into an exhausted slumber, my sweet baby lay in the hospital nursery, fresh from his bath, and sleeping himself.  The nurse was caring for another newborn when she looked over and noticed he was turning blue.

He had stopped breathing.

He was taken to the NICU where he stopped breathing several more times.

His 6 lb 4 oz body looked so tiny when I finally was able to hold him in my arms once more.  I rarely left his side for the next six days.  They kept me as long as they possibly could but soon discharged me and sent me home, leaving my heart behind with that tiny boy.

Each day I went back down to the hospital and sat beside him.  I watched the nurses and doctors work lovingly and diligently over the many babies in that NICU.  I watched other parents hover and care for their often, very ill babies.

I remember the day we finally were able to bring Tyler home.  I dressed him in the newborn outfit that completely engulfed his tiny frame.  The nurses took his picture and then we carefully placed him in his car seat for the journey home.  As all of this was transpiring, a mother sitting across from us was holding one of her twin preemies who was failing.  The baby was connected to all kinds of wires and life-giving support as the mother nestled her close for skin-to-skin contact.  Their Priest stood nearby as he prepared to baptized this little life.  I saw as that dear mother wept wave after wave of silent tears as she tried to say good-bye to the precious life she worked so hard to save.

I have never forgotten that mother … or her tiny, desperately ill baby.

And I certainly did not know what battles lay ahead for my own baby.

The Value of Life

Just over a week ago, I learned that the state of New York legalized abortion right up until birth for any reason.  I read the words before going to bed but I could not process the images rolling through my mind.

When I woke the next day, I watched news footage of the bill being signed and people … those voted into office … rising to their feet, with huge smiles on their faces, and applauding.  I watched the One World Trade Center as it was lit up pink in celebration.

I was overwhelmed with grief as I considered the absolute disregard and even hatred for human life.

I was deeply troubled as I considered all the precious lives callously tossed aside in our pursuit of freedom and self-indulgence.

I have never understood why some lives seem to have value, while others are treated as though they do not.

Some of my favorite passages of Scripture to read to my son with autism are from Psalm 139.  I have always wanted him to understand that his life, even severely impacted with autism and often devalued in the eyes of the world around him, has immense value in the eyes of His creator.

“For You formed my inward parts;
You wove me in my mother’s womb.
I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;
Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;
And in Your book were all written
The days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them.”
Psalm 139:13-16

I believe every life has value.

Every life.

Every life impacted with a disability …

Every life currently waiting in the foster care system …

Every life living in abuse and neglect …

Every life sitting in a nursing home …

Every baby, whether wanted by his/her parents or not …

Life in all respects has value not because we get to determine the value of others but because God already has.

As I ponder on current (and past) events and consider all the death, abuse, and hatred I see in the news and all around me, I am troubled and can only whisper words of sorrow towards  those who will never hear me and then extend love and kindness to all I can.  I wish the world was different.  I wish we understood the value of all human life and I wish we loved each other as He loves us.  Especially towards those who cannot speak for themselves.

“This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”
John 15:12