I did not actually speak the word. Rather, the word became water – tears welling up in my eyes and rolling down my cheeks.
I was beholding a new photograph of a baby named Pearl. Pearl was born in late July and wasn’t supposed to live to August. She wasn’t even supposed to live to term; the obstetrician counseled her parents to end the pregnancy quietly.
There is a long list of words I want to set aside right now. I do not wish to speak of abortion. I do not want to get into the semantics of what it means to be pro-life or pro-choice. I do not want to have an argument that is no doubt important but tends to be hashed out too loudly and angrily to be allowed in the nursery.
Continue reading at a Deeper Family.