I’ve discussed before that I am finding even that most polarizing of subjects, abortion, to be less and less clear cut.
As a further example, I offer Emily Rapp’s poignant and powerful piece for Slate this week – in which she argues that had she known of her son’s genetic disorder, she would have aborted him:
If I had known Ronan had Tay-Sachs (I met with two genetic counselors and had every standard prenatal test available to me, including the one for Tay-Sachs, which did not detect my rare mutation, and therefore I waived the test at my CVS procedure), I would have found out what the disease meant for my then unborn child; I would have talked to parents who are raising (and burying) children with this disease, and then I would have had an abortion. Without question and without regret, although this would have been a different kind of loss to mourn and would by no means have been a cavalier or uncomplicated, heartless decision. I’m so grateful that Ronan is my child. I also wish he’d never been born; no person should suffer in this way—daily seizures, blindness, lack of movement, inability to swallow, a devastated brain—with no hope for a cure. Both of these statements are categorically true; neither one is mutually exclusive.
It reminded me of a series of posts Andrew Sullivan ran after George Tiller, the Kansas doctor who performed late-term abortions, was murdered. He called it “It’s So Personal.” A couple of the stories:
> We were told that the ultrasound suggested strongly that our second child would be born, if she madeit that far, with a Trisomy 18 birth defect. There were cysts on her fetal brain that were indicative. Her death before birth or just after was highly likely. If she survived against the odds, it was almost certain that she would suffer from severe birth defects and profound developmental delays. Her short life would be taken up with corrective surgery and pain, none of which she would be able to understand but which she would suffer. The amniocentesis would let us know for sure.
There was that time while we waited when we had to decide what we would do if the news was bad. While my wife and I believe in a right to choose, we strongly feel that life is always the first choice if possible. Even so, we could not allow our daughter to undergo this. We would terminate our pregnancy and spare her. The news came back good and Meg is 16, wonderful and on her way to a career as an artist. It’s not the decision that matters; it’s why it’s made. It’s parents struggling through terrible choices. And their only hope and help is with the doctors. We are all struggling badly to find our way.
> At 17 weeks gestation our baby had been diagnosed with major heart defects requiring a minimum of three risky open-heart surgeries beginning at birth, and would later require a heart transplant. At 19 weeks we were finally given our amnio results which revealed our baby also had Trisomy 21.
A surgeon at the major teaching hospital where we’d had our fetal echocardiogram informed us that even if our baby somehow survived his palliative surgeries, this latest diagnosis meant he would not ever be eligible for a heart transplant. As we sat talking quietly in our living room, our priest shared with us that he’d spent time at the same hospital where we’d had our fetal echocardiogram and where our son would have had surgery.
He was there to support the family of a three-month-old who was having heart surgery. In the three weeks or so that he tended to this family, he also met 10 other families in the waiting room, each of whom also had young babies undergoing heart surgery. Sadly, within the short space of time our priest was there, every single one of those babies died.
Our priest came away from that experience feeling that this world-renowned children’s hospital was basically experimenting on babies. He saw their futile suffering and likened it to being crucified. The family he had gone there to support later told him that if they had only known what their baby would be forced to go through before dying, they would never have chosen surgery. Our priest told us that he believed we were not choosing our son’s death, only choosing the timing of his death in order to spare him a great deal of suffering. Something he said that brought us great comfort was “God knows what is in your hearts.” God knows our choice was based on mercy and compassion. Who would better understand our hearts than God, who made the choice for His own Son to die?
When Christians talk about abortion, we tend to talk about teenagers making stupid mistakes and sneaking off to Planned Parenthood so they can get their lives back. That is certainly a large part – even the greater part – of the reason why people have abortions, and I fully believe such a disregard for the value and importance of life tears at our society and grieves the God who made and sustains that life. We must find ways to reduce the number of unplanned pregnancies and encourage those considering abortions to place their children for adoption instead.
But in our haste to condemn abortion, we are surely grieving the hearts of those moms and dads who fully intended to carry their child to term – until they found out that doing so would lead to a brutally short, brutally painful life.
Did these parents make the right decision? As a father of three healthy daughters whose palms get sweaty every single time they run on concrete because I can barely stand the thought of their falling onto the pavement, I don’t think it’s my place to say. Is it yours?
And if it’s not my place or yours, is it our government’s? That is, is it our place to say in our role as the taxpayers, voters and members of the government?
The more I live, the more I realize the world is simply not black and white. Even those subjects that seem so clear cut, it turns out the closer I look, the more I simply see lighter and darker shades of gray. We are all struggling badly to find our way. God gives us the grace to do that; may he give me the strength to extend that grace to others, too.