In researching abortion, my own personal views of persons with disabilities has taken an interesting turn.
I have to admit that in the past I've thought that abortion should be ok for children that would be born disabled. After becoming a Christian I kept these views to myself, and they did begin to change, but I still had my doubts.
My daughter was receiving speech therapy at a school for the disabled. After the first year the staff called and suggested that I enroll her in the school itself for a year. I was thrown, and my first thought was that "those" people were kinda scary, and my daughter might be afraid. I would walk in to see these kids and adults with various problems, and I would sometimes think it was a shame that they were like that, and they'd be better off if they were never born. I never did enroll her.
Since starting my research on abortion, I've come across a lot of information. The first case that really hit me was Terri-Schindler-Schiavo. She's a person. She's alive. And she's worth whatever care and therapy it takes to keep her safe and happy. Perhaps it hit me harder because she was living a full normal life in a way I could relate until the time of her disability. I don't know, but it started a change in my way of viewing people. Life is valuable and to be cherished.
Then I started running across wrongful life lawsuits. These are cases where parents sue for a doctor not identifying and unborn child as having a disability. The parents contend that had they known, they would have aborted the baby, but since they didn't the doctor should be responsible for the cost of the child's care, and often there's an additional amount requested for the mental stress involved in having to do this.
I am ashamed to admit that a few years ago I would have agreed with all of the above situations. I would have agreed that Terri should be euthanized, and that those babies should have been aborted.
God forgive me.
On my way home today I was stuck behind the school bus that picks up the children that attend the school I mentioned earlier. I watched the parents bring out a little boy in a wheelchair that looked about 5 years old. He was very stiff in the chair, with his eyes fixed straight ahead. As they wheeled him down a cement slope leading to the sidewalk, he suddenly reached out to the snow-covered edge of that hill and flicked the snow. A smile, then he returned to his blank stare.
In that split second it took for him to make that small motion, I related. I love the snow, it's beautiful. Apparently it brought him pleasure too.
It hit me- he knows joy. He knows joy! Such a simple thing brought pleasure to him, and those simple things are a great part, and perhaps the most important part, of what makes up a good life. A life worth living, not that I any longer hold any thoughts that say I'm worthy to say a life is ever not worth it. His parents looked at me after they put him on the bus. The whole ordeal from the house to the bus to when it was ready to leave again took about ten minutes, and their look was almost apologetic. I wanted to go to them, to let them know how much just witnessing that brief second meant to me, and that I'd willingly sit there much longer if it could be done over again.
When you wonder why I do what I do, when you get tired of reading yet another plea for action, this is why.
Because life is precious.
Gina
I have to admit that in the past I've thought that abortion should be ok for children that would be born disabled. After becoming a Christian I kept these views to myself, and they did begin to change, but I still had my doubts.
My daughter was receiving speech therapy at a school for the disabled. After the first year the staff called and suggested that I enroll her in the school itself for a year. I was thrown, and my first thought was that "those" people were kinda scary, and my daughter might be afraid. I would walk in to see these kids and adults with various problems, and I would sometimes think it was a shame that they were like that, and they'd be better off if they were never born. I never did enroll her.
Since starting my research on abortion, I've come across a lot of information. The first case that really hit me was Terri-Schindler-Schiavo. She's a person. She's alive. And she's worth whatever care and therapy it takes to keep her safe and happy. Perhaps it hit me harder because she was living a full normal life in a way I could relate until the time of her disability. I don't know, but it started a change in my way of viewing people. Life is valuable and to be cherished.
Then I started running across wrongful life lawsuits. These are cases where parents sue for a doctor not identifying and unborn child as having a disability. The parents contend that had they known, they would have aborted the baby, but since they didn't the doctor should be responsible for the cost of the child's care, and often there's an additional amount requested for the mental stress involved in having to do this.
I am ashamed to admit that a few years ago I would have agreed with all of the above situations. I would have agreed that Terri should be euthanized, and that those babies should have been aborted.
God forgive me.
On my way home today I was stuck behind the school bus that picks up the children that attend the school I mentioned earlier. I watched the parents bring out a little boy in a wheelchair that looked about 5 years old. He was very stiff in the chair, with his eyes fixed straight ahead. As they wheeled him down a cement slope leading to the sidewalk, he suddenly reached out to the snow-covered edge of that hill and flicked the snow. A smile, then he returned to his blank stare.
In that split second it took for him to make that small motion, I related. I love the snow, it's beautiful. Apparently it brought him pleasure too.
It hit me- he knows joy. He knows joy! Such a simple thing brought pleasure to him, and those simple things are a great part, and perhaps the most important part, of what makes up a good life. A life worth living, not that I any longer hold any thoughts that say I'm worthy to say a life is ever not worth it. His parents looked at me after they put him on the bus. The whole ordeal from the house to the bus to when it was ready to leave again took about ten minutes, and their look was almost apologetic. I wanted to go to them, to let them know how much just witnessing that brief second meant to me, and that I'd willingly sit there much longer if it could be done over again.
When you wonder why I do what I do, when you get tired of reading yet another plea for action, this is why.
Because life is precious.
Gina
