My thoughts and reflections on my Catholic Faith, Fulton Sheen, the problem of suffering, and books

Friday, January 25, 2013

My Pro-Life Story

Forty. Years.  55 million lives snuffed out by abortion.  I should have been one of them.

If my Mom's OB/GYN had had his way, I would have been one of them.

My mother had a difficult pregnancy; and that, plus the fact that she's blind (because of course no blind parent has ever successfully raised a child to adulthood...sarcasm note!), led her "Catholic" OB/GYN to say:
We can solve this problem real quick.
My mom said "no."  I've heard different versions of the story from my parents; my mom's version is that my Dad, who's only 5'6", took the doctor outside, picked him up, and threatened him severely if he ever said those words in front of Mom again.

A couple of days later, the doctor said that I wasn't getting enough oxygen and that he'd have to do an emergency C-section.  My mother wonders if he was hoping I would conveniently die, or something.  I'll never know.

I gave a nice loud yell as soon as oxygen met my little lungs, to the astonishment of the doc; at 27 weeks, my lungs weren't supposed to have the capacity for screaming.  But I screamed.  "Hello, world!"  I was a scrawny little thing: 1 pound, 8.5 ounces; 13 inches long.  My aunt jokingly referred to me as "Six Sticks of Butter."

They gave me a 40% chance of making it either 24 or 48 hours.  I had heart surgery two days later, on May 29, 1989, to correct "Patent ductus arteriosus," a condition in which a valve of my heart didn't close properly.  I have a staple in my's still there; you can see it on X-Rays...and the nice long scar on my back also provides evidence.  I went to the dentist the other day and shocked them by not only knowing that I had heart surgery at the ripe old age of two days, but knowing why I had had heart surgery.

So, I guess I owe some people some big "Thank-You's":
  • My parents, for being pro-life;
  • The doctors and nurses at Kosair Children's NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit)  who took care of me (I was there until August took me 3 months to hit the magic number of 5 pounds);
  • My aunt who came and stayed with my parents for several months to help take care of me (I was too tiny to even finish a 4-ounce bottle, and I had to eat every two hours, which meant that when I napped, Mom napped; when I was not napping, Mom was not napping either.
  • and Our Blessed Lord for the gift of life.  If He wanted me to make it longer than 48 hours, I guess there's a reason.
God Love y'all!