| An Excerpt from "A White Rose for Jonathon" |
Chapter 7
Choose Life
I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing, therefore choose life, that both
thou and thy seed may live.
-- Deut 30:19
Mike and I both had carried a pro-life stance throughout our lives. We loved life, held it
sacred, and saw tremendous beauty in it. I would always see abortion as wrong, except in
cases where the mother’s life was threatened. That was before I heard the news from the
geneticist. Suddenly my whole world was turned upside down. I had to reevaluate why I felt
the way I did about abortion. Mike and I had to discuss our motives for having this baby.
What was right? To have this baby come into the world no matter what? How much suffering
was too much? Were 23 surgeries in a year too much? We don't let people suffer
endlessly at the end of life—should this be any different? Were we being selfish to try and
keep this baby alive? Was it morally right to let him continue to suffer like this? Would it be
more compassionate to let him go to heaven now? Was abortion a valid answer to all of
Jonathon‘s suffering? We really had to look abortion straight in the face. All the analyzing
we did still left us feeling confused.
We decided to talk to our pastor, drove to the church, and pulled into the parking lot. I
could just manage to put one foot in front of the other, but Mike helped me along. We made
our way to the receptionist and asked to speak to the head pastor.
"I'm sorry, you have to make an appointment, and he’s busy right now. May I help you?"
"My baby is going to die," I said. She ran to the back, returned a moment later, and brought
us into to the pastor‘s office.
He welcomed us into his office with open arms, this tall, strong man who truly was a
shepherd to us. He sat down with us and we told him what had occurred at the geneticist’s
clinic. We leaned against each other on the big, comfy sofa. I looked at my poor, suffering
Mike and told him, "If this has to be, I am so thankful to be suffering it with you. I can't
imagine going through this with anybody but you."
Pastor Dan looked at us with compassion. "Angie,” he said, “you were a believer before this
and you will be a believer through this and you will be a believer after this. I understand that
these are unique and serious problems with your baby. It is up to you what you choose to
do. Whether you choose to have an abortion or not, I will still love you. But as your pastor I
have to encourage you to choose life."
That was it. At that very moment, that very vulnerable moment, I chose life.
What plans did my Father in heaven have for my Jonathon? Would Jon be here
with me to enjoy all the dogwood blossoms? Would he ever look in awe at the beauty of
a rainbow with me or pick raspberries with his dad? Would I ever look into his eyes as I
dreamed I would?
Only heaven knew.
Choose Life
I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing, therefore choose life, that both
thou and thy seed may live.
-- Deut 30:19
Mike and I both had carried a pro-life stance throughout our lives. We loved life, held it
sacred, and saw tremendous beauty in it. I would always see abortion as wrong, except in
cases where the mother’s life was threatened. That was before I heard the news from the
geneticist. Suddenly my whole world was turned upside down. I had to reevaluate why I felt
the way I did about abortion. Mike and I had to discuss our motives for having this baby.
What was right? To have this baby come into the world no matter what? How much suffering
was too much? Were 23 surgeries in a year too much? We don't let people suffer
endlessly at the end of life—should this be any different? Were we being selfish to try and
keep this baby alive? Was it morally right to let him continue to suffer like this? Would it be
more compassionate to let him go to heaven now? Was abortion a valid answer to all of
Jonathon‘s suffering? We really had to look abortion straight in the face. All the analyzing
we did still left us feeling confused.
We decided to talk to our pastor, drove to the church, and pulled into the parking lot. I
could just manage to put one foot in front of the other, but Mike helped me along. We made
our way to the receptionist and asked to speak to the head pastor.
"I'm sorry, you have to make an appointment, and he’s busy right now. May I help you?"
"My baby is going to die," I said. She ran to the back, returned a moment later, and brought
us into to the pastor‘s office.
He welcomed us into his office with open arms, this tall, strong man who truly was a
shepherd to us. He sat down with us and we told him what had occurred at the geneticist’s
clinic. We leaned against each other on the big, comfy sofa. I looked at my poor, suffering
Mike and told him, "If this has to be, I am so thankful to be suffering it with you. I can't
imagine going through this with anybody but you."
Pastor Dan looked at us with compassion. "Angie,” he said, “you were a believer before this
and you will be a believer through this and you will be a believer after this. I understand that
these are unique and serious problems with your baby. It is up to you what you choose to
do. Whether you choose to have an abortion or not, I will still love you. But as your pastor I
have to encourage you to choose life."
That was it. At that very moment, that very vulnerable moment, I chose life.
What plans did my Father in heaven have for my Jonathon? Would Jon be here
with me to enjoy all the dogwood blossoms? Would he ever look in awe at the beauty of
a rainbow with me or pick raspberries with his dad? Would I ever look into his eyes as I
dreamed I would?
Only heaven knew.
| The Birth, Death, and Resuscitation of Jon According to Mike Imagine this: standing at the head of the surgical bed while the woman you love lies on it. There is a drape over her lower chest so some things are obscured. She still continues to smile and talk, the epidural turning the whole ordeal into a series of pulls and pushes instead of the pain of sharp surgical steel cutting into her flesh. The OB resident swiftly makes the first incision through her skin, and then the abdominal wall until the shiny outer surface of the uterus is exposed. My heart races with anticipation as I watch the final incision before my newborn son arrives. She hurriedly reaches in and pulls out the limp, lifeless body of my son. He lies like an upside-down U. She upholds his back in her left hand and then begins compressions on his chest with two fingers from her right hand. She turns to her left and her back faces me as she rushes with a small army of the world’s finest medical personnel to the room adjoining the surgical suite. “Oh, his cry is beautiful,” Angie says, smiling. There had been no cry. I affirm it anyways and tell her that I am going to see how Jon is doing. I kiss her and someone begins to finish up delivery by pulling out the rest of her placenta. That someone will probably sew her up too while I’m checking up on Jon. I take a step towards the adjoining room but my legs feel like they can no longer support my weight. But it’s not just my weight: the whole room including the ceiling seems to be pressing down on me. Maybe the whole world. I pause, regain my strength, and struggle on. In the next room, I stand back while a semi-circle of blue surrounds the incubator Jon lies in. I can’t see everything but it seems like everyone plays a critical part in his resuscitation. After what seems like an eternity, the semi-circle draws back, opening up. Two of the blue-clad heroes stay closer to Jon: one checks his oxygen tubing while the other continues to monitor his vital signs. The drawing back of the semi-circle is my first clue that the emergency is over, one way or the other. The sight of two staff members hovering over Jon is my first clue that the resuscitation is successful. When he has been resuscitated and stabilized, they wheel his incubator to the NeoNatal Intensive Care Unit and I follow. |
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