The news shocked me to my core. It haunts me. I am worried it will pass and I will forget. I long for perspective… but which perspective? So, I try to fit into the different ‘shoes’ of the characters of the tragedy…
Perspective One: Mom of Young Mom
‘my baby, formed of blood and bone, tears and prayer, fashioned by God’s own hand in amazing fragile beauty…
it will be alright. We will collect the savaged remnants of relationship between jobs and money and tragedy and hold each other through the storm, warmed under this assembled quilt of hopes and tomorrows. it will be alright. but… you are silent. withdrawn. and somehow in these past few weeks, I have begun to have the aching knowing that one more drama tugs at this blanket of our life and love, pulled around us. Can it be that you hold a life within you? Does the circle continue this way? Shh. God has held us. Will hold us still. Hold on. Just wait here by me.it will be alright.
Oh, God, my God. Can it be? What has happened here? How can one more tug not rend this fragile comforter that warms and keeps us? I will stand strong yet again. We must make it. Hold me while I hold her. Keep us.’
Perspective Two: Young Mom
Nonononono.No. It cannot be. It will not be. Invaded once. Did I want it, that moment that brought this… this life.. no. This second invasion of me? What life will this child have? Will it/he/she remind me of ….. How will I do this? How can this be? No one knows, but maybe some suspect? I cannot. I am terrified. I am angry. I am sad. No. I reject this. I have a choice. Will I be my mom? I am utterly alone. No one can know. I am ashamed, but this is not my fault. Oh, look! a hand! No, wait, was it a foot? No! I do NOT care. I CANNOT care. How could this happen? My life, is it over?
Augh! The pain! I am helpless. I cannot do this. I cannot believe this was done… to me? Was it my fault? I just WON’T! I refuse. This is NOT mine.
And now, that moment has passed. I am so confused. What I threw out,… I cannot take back that moment, that choice. I will never forget. What I never wanted to accept has now branded its way across my heart and mind.’
Perspective Three, Maybe? The Unknown ‘Public’… us?
Shock and horror. Headlines and then maybe forgotten, except for some who cannot get that image out of their head. Fury? Guilty? (of what?) “Child abuse”… “murder”? I think those are the charges. Does she ‘need therapy?’ I don’t actually know what people think, although I have conjectured here some of the possible responses. But I keep thinking… the irony here is that she could have gone a few miles and quietly had the infant cut out of her piece by piece or all intact. The so-called ‘fetus’ could have been sold as something for ‘medical purposes’, buried, or thrown out as trash. She would have been lauded as ‘sane’, as ‘reasonable’. How is it different than what she did- throwing the baby out the back, off the deck? The baby maybe died instantly, I hope? Hopefully, with no pain? But the loss is forever. The aching arms of that grandma who lost daughter and grandchild in one moment…. The pain of that child/daughter being thrust brutally into adulthood and very possibly prison because she did in public what is done by many every day in private,… paid for by ‘insurance’, mandated, often, by federal government. That irony catches my breath away. I cannot stop hurting for the girl in this story and for the all-of-us caught in the grip of this drama in quiet and loud ways. I cannot forget her. I surely hope I do not. Her pain knocks me down. I have no idea what it does to her. I worry that to even comment, to dare to ‘think outloud’ will be called presumptuous. Even so, I must ask. Surely you see the irony? I know there is no easy answer to so very much, and especially this issue. Yet I will ask God. And I will ask you. If you do not see the question, I cannot help you.