A 24-year-old woman died from injuries she received getting an abortion at a Chicago Planned Parenthood Clinic.
According to the Chicago Tribune, Tonya Reaves death was caused by hemorrhage and ruled an “accident” by the Cook County Medical Examiner. The abortion was listed as a contributing factor in the death. Continue reading
Because I’d never had an ultrasound, I didn’t know the gender of any of the children I aborted, so don’t ask me how I knew this; I can’t tell you. But somehow I knew in my heart that the voice I had just heard belonged to my son. He would have been my firstborn.
Now, on the beach, I understood why God had wanted me to hear the radio broadcast of “Tilly,” and why he had spoken to me in the voice of my unborn child for the second time. He had already forgiven me, but he wanted to begin a healing process in me. I remember hearing a preacher say once that God does things in the heavenly realm that there are no earthly words to describe. I believe that with God, all things are possible. Whatever it takes for you to be healed, that’s what he will do for you. That’s what it took for me. I needed to hear that voice. Needed that reassurance.
God knew I could never have taken all the guilt and grief at once. So he restored me bit by bit, patched my broken spirit piece by piece. I did not get up from that experience energized and with a burning zeal to speak to women about abortion. In fact, over time, I almost forgot what God had shown me that day. Yet, I always remembered hearing that voice, and I remembered it as a healing time, a moment when God, in his infinite grace and mercy, put a Band-Aid on my bleeding soul.
After my hour alone on the beach, I was able to pull myself together. I got up, brushed myself off, and walked back to where Bobbi and the kids were soaking up the sun. I had lost the exuberance with which we had started the trip, but I was functional again.
Yet, it would be another five years before I would fully grieve for the loss of my children. And that would be the third and final time I heard my son’s voice….
…I heard Adam’s voice for a final time. “We’re waiting here for you, Mommy, and one day you’ll be here too, and we’ll spend forever together.” The voice was very comforting, and I knew I wasn’t crazy. The inaudible voice was really God speaking to my spirit; I heard it as a child’s voice—my son’s voice—because that was what I needed for my healing. God had prepared me for this moment by letting me hear that voice years earlier.
A Mississippi judge has allowed the murder of babies to continue by putting on hold the law that would close the state’s only abortion clinic.
US District Judge Daniel Jordan did not give an expiration time for the order. The Jackson Women’s Health Organization sought a temporary restraining order while they prepare a lawsuit against the state’s new law requiring doctors who perform abortions to have admitting rights at a nearby hospital. Continue reading
The BBC reported another allegation of Chinese officials forcing a woman into an abortion on Tuesday.
Pan Chunyan reportedly was taken to a hospital by force in her 8th month of pregnancy after paying a fine for having an additional child. She was captured by a group of government workers on April 6th, taken to a hospital by force and given an injection. She had a still birth two days later. Continue reading
I had rented a beautiful little cabin in the mountains and really enjoyed the solitude it afforded. One night I couldn’t sleep. So I got up and turned on the television. I flipped through the channels until I found a Christian program. It was The 700 Club. Pat Robertson was talking about abortion. The topic made me a little uneasy, but I didn’t change the station.
That night The 700 Club aired a video called The Silent Scream. This pro-life documentary was narrated by Dr. Bernard Nathanson, a former abortionist, and included live film footage of a suction abortion. For the first time I saw pictures of exactly what I had done. I was horrified, but I could not tear my eyes away from the screen.
“We are now looking at a sector scan of a real-time ultrasound imaging of a twelve-week, unborn child,” Dr. Nathanson said in his professorial voice.2Then he pointed out the child’s head and hand, the ribs and the spine. Twelve weeks. I had been a good sixteen weeks for one of my abortions, I remembered.
“The heart is beating at the rate of approximately 140 beats a minute. And we can see the child moving rather serenely in the uterus.”3The black-and-white images were grainy, but there was no mistaking the perfectly shaped fetus. I began to feel sick to my stomach. Ultrasound was not available when I had my abortions. If I had seen pictures like this . . .
“You will note as the suction tip, which is now over here, moves towards the child, the child will rear away from it and undergo much more violent and much more agitated movements . . . The child has now moved back to the profile view and the suction tip is flashing across the screen. The child’s mouth is now open . . . but this suction tip which you can see moving violently back and forth on the bottom of the screen is the lethal instrument which will ultimately tear apart and destroy the child.”
When I saw that baby, with its mouth open in a silent scream, pushing against the walls of its mother’s womb, my world completely shattered. I fell out of my chair and onto the hardwood floor, crying hysterically. The full fury of my sin, which I had stuffed so deep inside of me, erupted in such searing pain that I didn’t know if I could live through it—wasn’t sure I wanted to live through it. I lay on the floor and sobbed until I heaved.
And that’s when I heard the voice.
“Mommy, everything’s okay. We love you.”
That’s all. Just a few words uttered in a little boy’s voice. A voice so sweet and pure that it melted my heart.
Sunglasses could not hide the tears streaming down my face, and I was glad the beach was not crowded that day. I walked toward the water, oblivious to the warm ocean breeze or the strident call of the seagulls. My shoulders slumped under the weight of the reality that now settled on me. Dear God, what have I done? My feet were leaden, my legs would no longer hold me. I sank to my knees in the hot sand, completely devastated. I murdered my children! Continue reading
After a photo of a seven month pregnant woman forced to undergo an abortion against her will surfaced on the internet, China has apologized to the woman and taken action against the officials involved in the assault.
Chinese law prohibits abortions beyond six months. Continue reading
Babies? I had steeled myself not to think of them that way. Planned Parenthood had said they were blobs of tissue. I knew better, of course—at least on some level. But that’s the only way I could live with myself, to think of them as “problem pregnancies,” the flotsam and jetsam of an untimely conception, not as babies.
Heaven? Until that moment, I had vaguely thought of them as formless blobs out there in the universe somewhere. Were they really babies, really in heaven, as Melissa had just said? Continue reading
A photo showing a seven month pregnant woman forced into an abortion has shocked Chinese web users. Feng Jiamei was forced into the abortion by local government officials after she was unable to pay a fine for having a second child.
This is the latest in a line of forced abortions in China as a result of the country’s one-child policy, according to activist groups like the US based “All Girls Allowed.”
“The one-child policy continues to sanction violence against women every day,” Chai Ling of All Girls Allowed told the BBC. Continue reading
The broadcast that day by Focus on the Family was called “Tilly.” The skillful blend of voices and music and sound effects captivated me, and I was quickly lost in the story. I identified with the character named Kathy, a depressed woman who has a dream populated with lots of children. She discovers something different about these children: they have no names and no parents, and they don’t know where they came from. The ethereal background music clued the listener that these children were actually in heaven. I gripped the steering wheel tightly as I tried to keep my emotions in check.
Children in heaven with no names and no parents. A woman who is depressed and doesn’t know what is wrong. Dear God, I know what’s wrong with her; I’ve been in her shoes. Continue reading