"You would be six if you had been born whole on your due date instead of in pieces on your death date. I would have a six-year-old! Were you a girl or a boy? It matters to me, but you are my child, and I will take that, because it's all I have. I miss you. We all miss you. Happy due date. I wish you were mine."
Those of you who are reading this blog. Would you stop for a moment and just take it all in? Would you take a moment to personalize this issue? Instead of envisioning a bloody little aborted corpse, would you see who my child really was so that you may feel for a moment who we have lost?
This is not just "an abortion". People so often depersonalize the situation and refer to it in terms of "my abortion". Tennessee is not "my abortion", s/he's my child. I did not gain an abortion; I lost a child. My child had a face, a body, a soul and a life. S/he probably looked something like her/his brother, something like this:
A person, a real person. God knows, I know. But the world? The world doesn't know. And if it does, it lies and says I've lost nothing but only gained my freedom. Look at me... in lead shackles, drowning in this grief. Do I seem free?
Would you stop for a moment, not to ponder abortion on its scale, so massive that it can only be rendered faceless to manage... but to take the time to consider my child, to ponder who it was that lay broken at the bottom of a bell jar, stolen from the world, stolen from our family, ruined out of ignorance and tremendous physical suffering.
Would you take a moment to feel our pain? Just a moment and no more. Will you send an invisible due date gift of prayer, floating on warm currents, upwards to heaven? Will you pray? Will you think? Will you feel?