Feb 07 2013
“Twenty-one weeks after delivery of her second child, when the baby was diagnosed with a rare bone disease, Carol determined she had two options: keep the baby and have a child with a shattered skeleton that wouldn’t live very long or request a rare very late term killing.”
This story doesn’t say that, but in case you were wondering what I make of the front page story in the National Post today, my translation of the scenario above is pretty much it.
It may be worth noting that I am a compassionate, empathetic woman. I see a lot of pain around me; people come to me with their problems and I don’t turn a blind eye. I’m sorry–that’s not big enough a word–when parents lose a child, a baby.
Neither am I cold about how hard it must be to receive a diagnosis like this.
I refuse to see a mother killing her child early as compassionate. It’s not right, and if that child were a mere 15 weeks older we would all agree. Yes, the child will die anyway, but that does not make killing right. I don’t know why it should be kosher to kill a kid in utero simply because that child will die, as predicted by our flawed and fallen medical world, which has made countless false predictions in the past.
When the only place that child will thrive is in utero, why not let her live for that time?
I know, I know. It’s a woman’s choice.
Life presents tough choices. I’m not living in some happy-go-lucky Pollyana bubble where everything always turns out perfectly. And somewhere out there, I’m not oblivious that “Carol” might read this, and I want to be considerate of her too.
I think there’s a bigger picture. “Carol” made her choice; I’m hard pressed to see how it was a good one.
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