The Anchoress
Have you ever looked back on a moment of your life, and discovered that as you’re pondering, you are shaking your head in regret for your actions?
Abby Johnson, writing about the abortion that changed her life, is doing more than shaking her head. She is using her contrition to educate women about the reality of the genuine violence they permit to occur, within their wombs–within the core of their own bodies–during an abortion.
“Thirteen weeks,” I heard the nurse say after taking measurements to determine the fetus’s age.
“Okay,” the doctor said, looking at me, “just hold the probe in place during the procedure so I can see what I’m doing.”
The cool air of the exam room left me feeling chilled. My eyes still glued to the image of this perfectly formed baby, I watched as a new image entered the video screen. The cannula — a strawshaped instrument attached to the end of the suction tube — had been inserted into the uterus and was nearing the baby’s side. It looked like an invader on the screen, out of place. Wrong. It just looked wrong.
My heart sped up. Time slowed. I didn’t want to look, but I didn’t want to stop looking either. I couldn’t not watch. I was horrified, but fascinated at the same time, like a gawker slowing as he drives past some horrific automobile wreck — not wanting to see a mangled body, but looking all the same.
My eyes flew to the patient’s face; tears flowed from the corners of her eyes. I could see she was in pain. The nurse dabbed the woman’s face with a tissue.
“Just breathe,” the nurse gently coached her. “Breathe.”
“It’s almost over,” I whispered. I wanted to stay focused on her, but my eyes shot back to the image on the screen.
At first, the baby didn’t seem aware of the cannula. It gently probed the baby’s side, and for a quick second I felt relief. Of course, I thought. The fetus doesn’t feel pain. I had reassured countless women of this as I’d been taught by Planned Parenthood. The fetal tissue feels nothing as it is removed. Get a grip, Abby. This is a simple, quick medical procedure. My head was working hard to control my responses, but I couldn’t shake an inner disquiet that was quickly mounting to horror as I watched the screen.
Read the whole thing, but be warned; it is not easy reading. God help us all. God help a society that thinks so little about cause-and-effect and the silent screams that reverberate from the womb, into our collective subconscious.
Pray for the babies; pray for the women who get abortions. Pray for the souls of those who procure them, perform them or assign a “target goal” of 35 abortions a weekend, as part of their business plan.
Abby Johnson’s book is released today. You can read more about her story here
Related:
Aborting Twin Boys to have a girl.
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