A little piece of my heart
A little piece of my heart is wounded each time we are unable to help a woman turn from her plan to abort the tiny human life within her womb.
As an ultrasound technician for the past 30 years, I�ve had the honor of witnessing the work of the Lord, in the womb. �I knit you together in your Mother�s womb� Psalm 139:13. I have seen and documented the development of tiny humans as they progress through different stages of their lives. �You were made in My image� Genesis 1:27 �You are fearfully and wonderfully made� Psalms 139:14. �Even the very hairs on your head are numbered� Matthew 10:29-31. I�ve watched them jump and stretch, stick their tongues out, yawn, suck their thumbs, show me they�re a boy or girl. I have listened to and recorded their heart rates and measured their bones and waist sizes. I have been privileged to watch their growth through the various stages of development and share that view with their parents and the Creator. I can�t help but be attached to them, because I know them; I�ve seen and heard them. I�ve watched them play.
Many post abortion women have commented that a piece of their heart died with their aborted child, just like any parent that loses a child. It doesn�t matter at what stage of development, what matters is that those who have lost a child have a deep grief. Grief that is made worse when it is a secret, when there is no support for the grieving, no memorial, and no family gathering. It�s as if the child never existed. The survivors of the abortion try to go on with their lives as if the child did not exist. For many women and men this is a festering wound that must be kept secret, the pain denied until they are desperate enough to seek healing.
I find myself in a similar, secret (hidden) grieving place. I am certainly moved by both the joy and sorrow of the outcome following the ultrasound at the crisis pregnancy center where I volunteer. Joy is great. The parable of the good shepherd reminds us how our Father values each and every one of us (especially the lost ones). I had no idea of the depth of my own grief. These children touch my heart as I view them on the ultrasound screen. A little piece of my heart dies each time we are unable to help the mother see her way to giving birth.
I recently attended a post�abortion recovery weekend retreat (Rachael�s Vineyard). To my surprise the grief I had been carrying came forth in uncontrolled, sobbing tears. With the other participants I went through the grieving and recovery process. Representing the children who I grieve, I picked names for them and memorialized their brief life on earth. I received a certificate of life for Tanisha, Jawan, Bridget, Lawanda, Keesha, Brendan, Anton, Thomas, Joseph, and Andrew. I entrust these children to the creator of life, recognizing the dignity and gift of each and every one.
I join the voices of those that are Silent No More.
Peace,
Mike Stack BS,RT(R),RDMS,RDCS,RVT