Hello. I am the voice of the aborted children of the 21.
How did I get here? Well, a lot of times I am conceived “accidentally,” maybe to an unwed mother or to one who is the sole caregiver to my living brothers and sisters. Sometimes I am the result of a tragedy in the life of my mother who is the victim of a terrible assault. In the end, though, no story is the same as another because each mother is as unique as I am, her child. Whatever the scenario, I am usually a surprise to people and, to them at least, not one of those nice surprises that everybody loves: no, I’m usually thought of more as an “accident.”
And “accidents” don’t survive in your world; “accidents” aren’t given the chances you were, the chance to be born, to grow-up, to find love and happiness, to raise a family, to die after living a full life. When you call me an “accident,” you put me into a category of humanity that doesn’t even have chance because in your world, “accidental” usually means “unwanted,” at least when we’re talking about me, and “unwanted” can then mean “disposable.” It’s a really tragic progression of thought for me, but after thousands of examples, I can see that it’s apparently a very acceptable code in your eyes.
But it’s tragic for you too, world: picture yourself surrounded by a crowd of diverse people, some politicians, some teachers, some celebrities, some ministers, the men, women and children who will impact the future and changed the world. These are the mothers and fathers of the future, the movers and shakers of an entire generation, and you will never meet any of them as a direct result of the choice that you made. Future lawyers will never be born because of a law handed down by the Supreme Court; future doctors will never get a chance to save lives because you murdered theirs. You deprive yourselves every day of hundreds of valuable members of society, not to mention priceless human lives.
But, when I say “human” lives, I think right there is where we differ. After all, I am pretty easy to dispose of today, through several different ways, and I think it’s so easy because you have stopped thinking of me as human being. This is an absolutely necessary myth for you which has grown over time and it lets you to do what you want without the consequences, without the guilt, without the reality. It is amazing how much you want to believe it, how willing you are to write me off as a “blob of cells.” The culture values the most what is convenient and so this is a very convenient “truth” for you.
It’s this viewpoint that gives you the power to make a mother’s womb a place of death instead of life. Who would have ever thought that this would happen in a society that thinks it is so “progressive?” You all think your world is so advanced but even in a primitive society there is an idea of a fair trial: I don’t even have a chance.
But world, this “blob of cells,” that you tell yourself is not human, has a soul and it survives forever in spite of the pill and the surgeon. That is what separates a “blob” from a “being,” world, and I was a being from the very beginning. I have a soul. Chance, “accident,” or whatever other word you use did not put me in my mother’s womb, world. I was a soul housed in a tiny body, put there by design, a lot like another little one conceived in a small city in ancient Israel. He also came as an infant (a “blob of cells” you might have called Him, too) and it was fortunate that HE was given life for He was LIFE. He was born and He gave the world life. I was made in His image.
Everyone deserves life, world. Let lives live, world.
