Dead Babies Speaking

Proverbs 14:12 "There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to death."

Ephesians 5:11 "Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them."

It was about 10:12 am Sunday morning, and I awoke with a start. Something didn't seem right. And then I remembered. I sometimes volunteer at Hope Clinic on Sunday's, just as the sun is coming up.

Instead, the sun was blaring through the mini-blinds, and "Meet The Press" was recording in the distance. I didn't volunteer today, because I planned to take my son to see Pixar's "Up" instead. And then I heard the breaking news as husband flipped channels. About Dr. George Tiller.

The most notorious abortionist in the entire world. The partial birth pioneer who shot viable babies through the heart with Digoxin. Legally. Completely legally. Just as Dr. Josef Mengele did to Holocaust children in his twin studies. Sometimes Killer Tiller recommended a complete hysterectomy with a baby still inside. Often, he sucked the brains out of a completely viable partially born baby as he writhed in pain....

Dr. George Tiller.

Murdered. A moral murder.

I breathed deeply.

I laid back down and held my son. And I have to admit that I didn't shed a tear. I always wished for an end to Tiller's rage against babies. I figured it had something to do with almost his entire family being wiped out in a Yellowstone plane crash in 1970.

I was hoping that the end would come more peacefully, though I remember subconsciously thinking that Tiller lived in Wichita, Kansas and so did BTK.

I also remember driving to Cross Lake, Minnesota and my Grandparent's lakehouse over the years. We often stopped in Wichita, Kansas to eat and visit our Uncle. One summer we were driving down East Kellogg looking for Country Kitchen. I can recall a strange, cold feeling that stuck with me as we passed Tiller's Women's Health Care Services Building, my perfect 20-20 eyesight scanning the addresses for mommy and daddy.

Over the years, I held out hope that maybe Tiller's faith would intervene. Or that one of the babies he murdered would visit him in nightmares, and shake him to his very core.

So it was only natural that as the news blared in the distance, my thoughts turned to Baby Sarah.

I wanted to be the biggest, baddest pro-choice liberal in 1993. I adored Miss Hillary, and wanted to go to Wellesley like she had. I wished I could have protested Vietnam. Seen Woodstock in a VW bus. Been a flower child. And I daydreamed about studying law like Hillary. And being pro-choice.

I was a freshman in high school and a fan of The Real World: San Francisco at the time. Pedro and Puck were fighting every week, and for the first time, I saw AIDS up close. But, it would be Rachel Campos who I would seek to emulate.

Rachel Campos became my biggest hero. I tried to fight it with every fiber of my being, but I couldn't help but adore the pro-life Republican.

At the very same time, something unexpected happened that would change my political leanings forever. "Baby Sarah" survived an attempted abortion by Dr. Tiller in Kansas.

During the attempted abortion, Baby Sarah turned away from the needle. So instead of injecting the lethal drug into Baby Sarah's heart, Tiller injected it into the side of her head. This left her alive but blind. The trauma caused her mother to deliver early. Baby Sarah was born in the parking lot at Wesley Medical Center where hospital staff left her to die. A day later she was still alive. A hospital employee took pity on her, and she was adopted a few hours later by the Brown family. Baby Sarah died a few years later due to complications caused by the attempted abortion.

I kept trying to fight my Rachel Campos complex over the years. Each time it stared me in the face that I was a Republican masquerading as a rebellious left wing liberal, I tried to bravely run with the liberal agenda. I discredited the idea of voting on the single issue of abortion by telling myself that Al Gore would save our planet. That John Kerry understood the Vietnam veterans more than Bush ever could. That Hillary's health care plan wasn't so bad.

But, I kept coming back to Baby Sarah.

Those big puppy dog brown eyes begging Dr. Tiller to just slow down. Breathe in life. Just soak it in.

And then I forced myself to do the impossible. Be uncool.

Vote solely on abortion. Solely on abortion. With every election that became my goal. My duty.

As I drove home from seeing Pixar's "Up" with my son, I thought of where I often find myself on Sunday's. The Hope Clinic. And I felt such a sense of peace.

Sometimes, we have a small baby shower for a teen mom who is changing her entire life for that growing baby bump.

Other times, a girl walks in beet red, almost hyperventilating with fear of the unknown. She walks out an hour later with a smile on her face, knowing that she now has support. That she can do this.

If only Dr. Tiller.

If only you had stopped counting the millions in earnings for just one second. If only you had stopped thinking you were so powerful with that perfect record of never killing the mother, as you carried out pre-meditated murder. If only you had considered the fact that you only performed 1 medically necessary emergency abortion out of 2289.

If only you had stopped and looked for those precious smiles in the mom-to-be. The ones that light up the room at Hope Clinic.

Instead tonight, you see the thousands of babies you chose to murder. Safe in His arms. How very sad that you can only look from afar in shame at that most amazing sight.