Terminated pregnancy or baby?

The life of my preborn baby girl ended abruptly at eight weeks after conception. A gush of blood, a trip to the E.R., a blood test, an ultrasound, and a diagnosis we had been dreading--delivered rather callously by the physician--that my "pregnancy had been terminated"--left me feeling bewildered and empty. "Terminated?" I heard myself asking the doctor, whose impatience seemed to be growing by the minute. "You mean my baby has died?" "It's not a baby--you were only six to eight weeks along,", was the curt reply. In spite of my grief, and with intensity which surprised me, I countered, "Did conception occur, doctor?" "Well yes of course, but I don't see a BABY on that ultrasound screen!", the man of science replied. "Then if conception occurred," I insisted, pleading for my baby's humanity, "then I had a BABY and my BABY died!"

That affirmation, I firmly believe, was the first step in the healing process,--knowing and acknowledging that I had suffered a loss of a loved one, my little girl whom I had loved and dreamt about. In addition to losing her, I was also deprived of all my future hopes and dreams of her--holding her, watching her grow into a young woman and experience friendships, graduations, possibly marriage ... these dreams all died with her.

For the first time in my life, I considered the grief of the mother who has aborted her child. How desolate she must feel! I know that no one in that hospital or abortuary is going to acknowledge the humanity of her child, because in Canada today our humanity is dependent upon whether or not we are wanted. In fact, like leprosy, this callousness has now spread to include "wanted" children (like my baby) who are too young to be viable. They are simply "terminated pregnancies."

My belief in the sanctity of human life, deeply rooted in my Catholic upbringing and reinforced by twenty-five years of prolife activism, allowed me to protest, "I had a BABY, and my BABY died!" A mother having just aborted her child is going to feel this instinctively, due to the natural law written in all our hearts, and yet she will have no outlet for this grief. She will not scream out her anguish for having chosen death for her child, she will listen to the voices of the "professionals" around her, who will affirm her "choice" as being a sensible one. Her existential grief will, by necessity, be buried under layers of denial, because how can one grieve a person when the world never acknowledged that person's existence?

I named my baby Theresa Angela, and my husband and I both told her we loved her in what we knew were her last hours on earth. Her mortal remains were kept by us (not disposed of in a dumpster), and a votive Mass of the Angels was held to celebrate her brief life. She was interred in the family plot beside her grandmother, with all the beauty and dignity befitting a precious child of God. Before the funeral, I spent three hours with a saintly Marian priest who heard my confession, prayed with me, and reassured me that she was with God, and that she also would be with me for the rest of my life, loving me and helping me. Without recourse to these spiritual helps, how could I ever have coped with the loss?

A mother who has aborted is given no post-abortion counseling for trauma; she is not encouraged to name her baby, nor does she have the immense consolation of knowing that her baby was accorded respect and dignity in life and death. The poet Shelley lamented "the bitterness of death"; and yet in the depths of suffering if we unite our will to do that of God we will experience an antidote to that bitterness--the balm of consolation. Pity mothers of the aborted little ones--who have no baby, no hope, no consolation--only a lifetime of bitterness and regret!

As with every precious child He creates, my baby Theresa's life had a purpose and meaning and so it will for all eternity as her soul is immortal. What I have learned from her passing is to pray for grieving mothers everywhere, especially mothers who aborted their babies. May they, with true sorrow, turn to the infinite ocean of Divine Mercy and experience healing, as all their guilt becomes washed away by the blood of the Lamb. And thus may they earn a rightful place in heaven, and with it a second chance to truly be mothers as they are reunited with their babies.

Angela M. Braun lives in Thorold, Ont. She is a full-time wife and mother of eleven. A graduate of the University of Ottawa, she has served a term on city council, is on the board of the St. Catharines Right to Life Association, and is active in Campaign Life Coalition.