I would like to start by saying that I am not opposed to health care reform. Even with the health insurance I have, the out-of-pocket expenses can get very out of hand. If the United States Government can pass legislation that will bring these costs under control, I am all for it.
What I am not in favor of is using tax payer money to fund abortion or abortion services. Abortion may be a choice for some, but it is not for me. I choose to not pay for an abortion for anyone, for any reason. No matter what health care reform is passed, I want abortion and abortion funding to be fully excluded. It is not up to me to pay for the choices of another.
I am the mother of four children—three living and one who went to live in Heaven before her life here on Earth could even begin. Though there is not a day that goes by when I don’t have a thought of that little one, she is not the child I want you to know about now. Instead, I’d like to tell you about my oldest son.
My husband and I had been married for six months when we found out I was pregnant. We were scared and ecstatic at al once. Because of health issues, I’d been told it would be near impossible for me to ever become pregnant. I thanked God every day for proving those doctors wrong.
My pregnancy was normal for the first few months. Then I listened to my doctor’s advice and had what he called the Triple Test done. This is a test that looks for genetic abnormalities, among other things. Shortly after having the test, I received the devastating news that the test indicated “a high possibility” that my child had Down’s syndrome. The nurse who called me said an appointment with a specialist had been made for the following day. When I asked why so quickly, she replied, “We need to get this done before it is too late to abort.”
Hearing that my child might not be the perfect, healthy child I had always dreamed of was bad enough. But hearing the thought my child might not deserve to live was more than I could bear. At the time, I was not walking as closely with God as I should have been. Still, I prayed for my baby. I told God that I would not, no matter what, abort that child. My husband agreed with me. God had begun the pregnancy and He alone would end it. I knew that I could not care for a special needs child on my own. I also knew that with God on my side, nothing was impossible.
We went for the amniocentesis. This is not the most comfortable of tests, and the doctor had to use three different needles before he could get enough fluid. When he was about to try for the third time, I prayed for God to guide the hand of the doctor. I turned my head to the sonogram monitor and watched as the needle went in. Then I watched as what looked like a hand grabbed the needle, pulled it into place, and then pushed it back out when there was enough fluid in it. That brought tears to my eyes! I knew that God really was looking out for my baby then.
My OB called me a week later with the test results. Unfortunately, I was out when they called and when I got home the office was closed. I called the next morning only to learn the results had been misplaced. UGH!!! They said to call back at lunchtime if I hadn’t heard before then. So I drove my niece to preschool. On the way home, I was listening to a Carman CD. The song “Lazarus, Come Forth” came on. I thought about how amazing it would be to have been there, to have seen Lazarus walk out of his tomb. Just then, I heard a voice, a very loud, strong, calm voice say, “I raised Lazarus and I will heal your baby.” I pulled off to the side of the road and just let the tears fall. I’d never actually heard God’s voice before, and I haven’t heard it since. Yet there is no doubt in my mind that God spoke to me at that moment!
The child that I was advised to abort due to the possibility of birth defects is now 8 years old. At the moment, he is in the backyard, playing with his younger brothers and his dog. I can hear his laughter floating in through the open windows. Andru has big plans for his future. He plans to be a missionary, to share the love of Christ with everyone he meets. In fact, he does that now. I have even heard him “preaching” to his stuffed animals.
When I think of all I would have missed out on if I had listened to the doctors, it breaks my heart. How many other women are there who go through the same thing? How many think that abortion is the answer, and have to live with that regret for the rest of their lives?
I do not expect my story to put a stop to the practice of abortion. My prayer is that you will see what the world would be missing if one woman—your mother, your sister, your wife, your daughter—had chosen abortion, and that the realization of that will make you understand the need for government to not fund abortion on any level.