Recently I read two stories, side by side, that contrast as day and night.
The first was of a woman who discovered, 17 weeks into her pregnancy, that she had cervical cancer. Instead of agreeing to an abortion in an attempt to save her own life, she chose life for her baby. He is now 2 1/2 years old. His mother was treated for cancer, but it’s back now and she has limited time. Does she regret it? No! This is true love.
The second is of Sarah, who survived an abortion attempt that was carried out very late in her mother’s pregnancy. When it was discovered that the baby was still alive, the baby was delivered in a hospital and then left to die, without any attention at all for 24 hours. Finally a nurse took pity on her and a loving family adopted her. Severely handicapped, Sarah has now died from her injuries five years later. Where is love in this story? Not the mother nor those who attempted to take Sarah’s life, but in those who saved her and cared for her until God took her into his own arms.
Which is ideal womanhood? To be willing to die for one’s own child, or to kill one’s own child for one’s own convenience? Aren’t women more noble than the latter? We honor men who have given their lives for their country. How about women who give theirs for their children? Do we honor selfishness or self-sacrifice? On which of these can we build and maintain a stable and enduring society?