Why I am (Now) Pro-Life --Part 2

Go here to read: Why I am (now) Pro-Life-Part 1

Love lived by others. This sentence keeps presenting itself to me as the reason my daughter was given the chance to live.

We had a lot of practical reasons to listen to our Doctor.

1. Who else would we listen to?

2. We had no family living near us to offer comfort and practical support during what was looking to be a very difficult pregnancy.

3. The world we lived in practically screamed that the mother's life was far more valuable than a yet-to-be viable "fetus".

Something in me, surely the Holy Spirit, was nudging me to look beyond the practical. My heart deeply desired to do what was right. It also desired to live. And, it also desired that my baby live too.

When we got home I closed myself in my bedroom. I remember laying flat on the bed. I reached for the phone, dialed information and called the Catholic Church we had been attending for the past 2 years. I was not sure who I could talk to so when the secretary answer the phone I asked for Wendy. She was the head of our Helping Hands ministry. She became a dear friend, but at the time she was little more than an acquaintance.

I heard her voice on the other line and a torrent of tears and explanation poured out of me. The underlying question I wanted answered was "What on earth I am I supposed to do?" Wendy went right to work. She said, "Do nothing until I call you back. I WILL call you back. I'm going to call my prayer warrior team and get as many people praying as soon as possible. Then I have a couple of other calls to make. You are not alone." And she meant it.

The phone rang and the voice on the other end was a man. "Leslie?", the man said. "This is Deacon Dick". Deacon Dick prayed with me on the phone. He explained he was a retired doctor. He asked my permission to set up an appointment with a Catholic doctor in downtown Phoenix--the Church was offering to pick up the expenses of this visit. The iciness that I didn't realize until then was coursing through my veins started to thaw. Wendy and Deacon Dick had managed to offer me the one thing I was really searching for: Hope.
Let me share something I've come to believe. We have become a society of greeting card platitudes. We've all read enough magazine articles to know that it is appropriate to say "I'm so sorry" when someone is experiencing grief. We know the face of empathy. but, it seems a rare gift to take that empathy and LIVE it. I include myself here. It is a constant challenge to remind myself that being Christ to the world starts with a compassionate ear. But, it continues with heartfelt action.

When I called Wendy, she didn't just offer to pray for me. She went to work. She made phone calls. She halted her agenda for that day and put my baby's life at the top her list. And she didn't stop there.

My husband was in the middle of tests at school as well as National Guard and ROTC commitments. Wendy came and picked me up so I would not be driving and so I wouldn't be at this important appointment alone. The doctor offered hope. He couldn't confirm the diagnosis, but he said that it could just mean I had a slow leak. He gave me the encouragement that he felt it was safe to continue with the pregnancy for now. He said if I developed a fever, it was very serious. He reaffirmed the risk to my life the first doctor gave. This doctor compassionately offered me some time to face that reality, though. Oh, and he told me the safest thing for me and baby was complete bed rest. Bear in mind, I was only half-way through a pregnancy and had a 2 year old at home!

My friends, I may have been on the road to coming into the fullness of Christianity, but the love of others carried me more than half the way. My family was showered (practically DROWNING) in the outpouring of practical support we had from the Catholic Community we had hardly come to realize was really ours. Meals came. Almost every night. For 4 months. Four MONTHS! Strangers and friends dropped off casseroles and salads, soups and breads, and desserts. Some stayed to offer encouragement. Others came in went in the space of a moment. My Ministry of Moms Sharing group--already a group of beginning friendships--made sure someone was checking in with me daily. Some babysat, Melissa cleaned my house (I mean, after we argued for hours and I practically died of embarrassment), Jen sat and shared with me her difficult pregnancy and tragic loss, Sylvia introduced me to St. Gerard. Real women, with many children, and very busy lives lived out their call as parts of the body of Christ. They ministered to me. They lived love in a very tangible way every day for me. For a few weeks I lived in a bubble of peace and comfort.

Then, the fever came.

(Part three is coming soon!)