Her baby’s life will mean something. It will have value.
“You have no idea the impact that Seth’s death will have on Kherington. God forbid it, but if she were to ever become pregnant as a teenager…”
Kayla paused. I waited for her to finish, even though I could finish her sentence myself.
“She’s going to remember that his life meant something. It had value.”
Kayla and I were lounging on my couch in my bedroom, having a few moments of peace and quiet, while our kids were playing in Damon’s bedroom. As with most playdates, Kayla hears my verbal and emotional processing, and she returns it with wisdom.
This conversation didn’t make it into my book, Living Hope. But the memory has been sacredly kept away, especially as I’m observing my little girl grow up soon to be a young woman. She was only seven years old at this time. She didn’t hold Seth, but she later held Roi. I remember watching her carefully hold him.
Kherington holding Roi, April 2019
“How will this impact her?” I question. Fear surfaced that maybe this was a mistake because it will only make the grief harder.
Yet, Kherington was the one that forced the fear to flee that hospital room, because what I saw in her eyes was not pain or anger or question. No, there was a force of protection, admiration, and motherly love. And let me remind you that there was no life remaining in his bloodstained, fragile, intricate body.
She realized that his life meant something. It had value.
Have you ever talked to a child about what abortion is? Well, I have. The look of horror on their once-innocent face will cause you to immediately hold back and protect them. But what are we really protecting them from? The appalled question of “why” comes from an eight-year-old girl faster than it ever did after her mother’s miscarriages. And you don’t know how to answer her honest cries of “why?” That’s what is horrific.
With innocent hands, Kherington held a bloodstained baby barely past the first trimester...while bloodstained guilty hands are holding bloodstained babies who never had a choice. Never had a voice. And some of those babies were much older than her brothers, capable of surviving outside the womb.
“How will this impact her?”
The lives of the unborn mean something. They have value.
Another friend, Megan, sends me a screenshot of text messages sent with her teenage daughter, Aubrey.
She prefaces the screenshot with:
“For the nearly adult teenager navigating through a declining culture wondering what’s next in this crazy life.” —
Aubrey: Mom, this book is sad, comforting, sad, comforting and I cried at school like an idiot
Megan: “Grief is weird. God is good.”
Megan continues to tell me how Aubrey asked if she could read my book, Living Hope. She said yes without hesitation. “My girls are no strangers to heartache and grief. Different but they get it on some level. I never want to shield them too much from it. Feel it. Be changed by it. Know God better because of it.”
“How will this impact her?”
The question continues to run through my head as I witness the testimony of this teenage girl being touched by the unborn lives of Seth and Roi. How after reading chapter one, she admitted to “ugly cry in bed at the part about John the Baptist leaping in the womb and Seth doing the same in the presence of Jesus.”
Grief is weird. But yes, God is good. So what are we really protecting them from? Maybe it’s all horrific, but I’d rather my daughter grow up prepared to navigate this declining culture that we are living in. And who knows but God what’s next. Our children are facing grief that I never faced. Praise the Lord, my mom never experienced a miscarriage. Therefore, she wasn’t given the option to let me in or shut me out of that grief and pain.
But no one talked about the death of their babies. I had no idea…no idea how many women around me suffered miscarriages until I lost my own. My daughter deserves more than that. I’m not ashamed of how much I’ve let Kherington into the grief. Because someday, I may be the one on the receiving end of the phone call like my mom was. “I lost the baby, Mom.” Not once. Twice I made that phone call. The tears come fast now, imagining the day I’m the one that picks up a phone call from Kherington.
“How will this impact her?”
Her baby’s life will mean something. It will have value.
And God forbid it, but what if Kherington becomes pregnant at a time that is not on her timetable to have a baby?
Or physicians are telling her that there’s no hope for survival, or the baby might have permanent medical needs, so termination is in the best interest?
What about all the women who are hiding in guilt and shame because they had an abortion?
What about the women and girls, yes girls, who were forced to have an abortion against their will?
Bloodstained Hands are reaching out to hold. Bloodstained from the guilt of all our sins. Scars remain as reminders of His innocence taken. But justice and wrath absorbed.
“Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sin.” (Hebrews 9:22, ESV)
The Savior’s life meant something. It had value.
Damon holding Roi, April 2019.
Those innocent bloodstained Hands are holding innocent bloodstained babies. Babies who leapt from their mother’s womb into the presence of Jesus. Planned. Unplanned. Chosen or not.
There shouldn’t be a side to take. There shouldn’t be a debate. There shouldn’t be a march. There shouldn’t be a Supreme Court decision. There should never have been nor ever should be a choice for anyone.
Except Jesus had a choice. He shed His blood because each life means something. Each life has value.
“How will this impact her?”
As I skim over the first few verses of Proverbs 31 to get to the “Proverbs 31 Woman,” I almost miss wise words spoken from a mother to her son. Is there even a “Proverbs 31 Woman” without this?
“Speak up for those who have no voice, for the justice of all who are
dispossessed (HCSB),
destitute (ESV),
appointed to die (NKJV),
being crushed (NLT).
Speak up, judge righteously, and defend the cause of the oppressed and needy.”
(Proverbs 31:8-9)
I want to be wise like this mother and cry out to my daughter (and her three brothers soon to follow). So I speak: Seth and Roi’s lives had value, even at only thirteen weeks gestation.
And if their lives meant something, then so do all the 73 million babies aborted each year in the world…200,000 today…200,000 tomorrow…on and on…
Kherington and Damon kissing my belly while pregnant with Seth, shortly before he died May 2018.
“How will this impact her?"
Megan and I won’t be shielding our kids from all the grief and pains of this world. We want them to be changed by it. Know God better because of it.
Will you join us? Will you speak up for those who have no voice, starting in your own home? If you had a miscarriage, will you bravely share your baby’s life story with your daughters and sons, granddaughters and grandsons? Because someday, if not already…
Their babies’ lives will mean something. They will have value.
Like Megan, consider having your teenager read, Living Hope. I believe that the unborn lives of Seth and Roi will impact them, while pointing them to Jesus in any grief they are experiencing. Get it here.
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