I read your letter.
It was to the unborn child you plan to abort tomorrow. You posted this note anonymously on Reddit for the world to see, so I can’t be sure that you even exist or that your letter was sincere. This could be some kind of sick joke. You could be a pro-choice propagandist, fabricating another story to help get rid of the ‘taboo’ surrounding infanticide. I don’t know. But I’m going to assume, right now, that this is all legitimate. I’m going to speak to you like you are real, like you are really planning to do this, because whether you are or not, everything I’ll say to you also applies to any woman in the same position.
I tried my best over the past week to figure out a way to contact you personally. I guess that was a futile effort to begin with. You didn’t post your name or contact information, which makes sense. The good folks at Reddit are apparently deleting any responses on your thread that don’t consist entirely of “congrats” and “atta girl,” so I couldn’t reach out to you that way, either. I’m left with this as my only option.
Before I go further, I think we should revisit what you wrote. I’m sure you remember, but here it is:
I can feel you in there. I’ve got twice the appetite and half the energy. It breaks my heart that I don’t feel the enchantment that I’m supposed to feel. I am both sorry and not sorry.
I am sorry that this is goodbye. I’m sad that I’ll never get to meet you. You could have your father’s eyes and my nose and we could make our own traditions, be a family. But, Little Thing, we will meet again. I promise that the next time I see that little blue plus, the next time you are in the same reality as me, I will be ready for you.
Little Thing, I want you to be happy. More than I want good things for myself, I want the best things for the future. That’s why I can’t be your mother right now. I am still growing myself. It wouldn’t be fair to bring a new life into a world where I am still haunted by ghosts of the life I’ve lived. I want you to have all the things I didn’t have when I was a child. I want you to be better than I ever was and more magnificent than I ever could be. I can’t do to you what was done to me: Plant a seed made of love and spontaneity into a garden, and hope that it will grow on only dreams. Love and spontaneity are beautiful, but they have little merit. And while I have plenty of dreams to go around, dreams are not an effective enough tool for you to build a better tomorrow. I can’t bring you here. Not like this.
I love you, Little Thing, and I wish the circumstances were different. I promise I will see you again, and next time, you can call me Mom.
Something tells me that your heart doesn’t feel too warm right now.
I felt the sadness and hesitation in your words. The fact that you published it in the first place proves that you are not completely sure about what you are planning to do. I think you want to be talked up or talked down. You want to hear what people have to say about it, which is the only reason anyone ever posts personal things on the internet.
I felt the uneasiness.
I felt the sense of loss.
I felt the desperation.
And I felt the love.
I did. I really did.
You love your child. You want your child to be happy. You said that yourself, and I believe you.
But this is not the way, friend. This is not the way.
Who am I to say this to you? Nobody, really. I’m nobody. I’m nothing. But your child is someone. You child is something. Your child is real and he is here and he is itching to meet you and thank you for giving him life. A life that he will only have once and never again.
If you want your baby to have what you didn’t have and feel the joy that you never felt, now is the time to hand him that gift. Now is the only time. There will not be another. You said that you cannot be the baby’s mother right now, but you are the baby’s mother right now. There is only now, friend, and this is a moment that will never be repeated. You can choose death or choose life, but there will not be a redo or a second chance. This is it. This is everything.
You can have other kids, but you will never have this one again. This one, with her vast potential and incredible promise. She is here now, she is living now, and there is a place in this world for her.
I’m sorry that I keep switching between “her” and “him.” You didn’t mention the gender — I guess you don’t know — so I’m using whatever pronouns are necessary just to avoid calling it “it.” It’s not an “it,” it’s so much more than that. She or he is a human being, and as you said, the two of you share a reality. And that is a reality that can never be improved by the death of the child you love. There is no way that your life or anyone’s life could be made better by killing the innocent. It’s impossible.
I know some other Reddit users commented and told you that you won’t regret this decision. They are lying to you. Don’t listen to them. Listen to your heart. The same heart that prompted you to write that letter and feel those thing for your child. Listen to it, not the broken and deceitful masses who want to claim your baby’s death as a victory for their side of an argument. Your little one is just a pawn to them. They don’t love him like you do. They don’t love him at all. But down to the very pit of your soul you feel something for your baby that you’ve never felt for anyone.
Trust that feeling.
Oh, there’s fear there, sure. That’s part of it — so is the panic, the uncertainty. I’m not discounting any of that, but I am saying that extinguishing the life in your womb will not defeat the fear or settle your anxious mind. This is not a solution, I promise you. There is not a single thing that can be made better, nor a single problem that can be solved, by aborting your baby.
Yes, it’s true that I’m a man so I cannot fully understand what it means to carry a child to term. I watched my wife go through a tough and physically taxing pregnancy, and I’ve never felt so helpless or useless in my life. I don’t know why the Lord saw fit to give the cross of pregnancy to women rather than men, but I can only assume that it’s because women are stronger and more patient. I know this is true in my wife’s case, and I know it is true in yours. You have the power to make it through this, all the way to the end, and that is a decision that you will never regret.
OK, I know we don’t have much time so I think I should stop rambling and get down to business. I mentioned your story on Facebook last week and asked if any of my Facebook friends could offer resources to help you. Well, they gave more than that. Numerous people came forward offering to adopt your child. These are real people who are eager to open up their homes and their hearts to your beautiful little one. If you email me (MattWalsh@TheMattWalshBlog.com), I can put you in touch with them.
Otherwise, there are hundreds of wonderful organizations out there that will help you make an adoption plan for your child. I don’t know where you live or which organization you would prefer, but I plugged “place a child for adoption” into Google and instantly found dozens of great options.
Maybe you can tell that I’m not an expert when it comes to dealing with women in the midst of crisis pregnancies. I might be saying and doing all of the wrong things here. I don’t know. Luckily, there are people out there who are far better equipped. Check out this link with contact information for various pregnancy centers that are dedicated to providing necessary services to women in your situation. There is help out there. You don’t have to go through this alone. Check these links. Send me an email. If you’re worried about maternity expenses, there are people and charities who can help you with that.
An abortion clinic will take your child’s life and kick you out the door. But pregnancy centers and Christian charities will walk with you, step by step, and never leave your side. There are tons of places like that, but here’s a good place to start.
You do not deserve harsh judgment or scorn from anyone if you aren’t ready to raise a child. There is no shame in placing your child for adoption. Quite the opposite — it would be truly heroic and admirable for you to make the choice to give your baby to a family that is prepared to care for him. Your child can still have a good life. It isn’t too late. He can still live. He can still be happy. There are families out there who want so badly to embrace him and make sure that he has the life he deserves — a life of hope and joy and love. That’s the life you want him to have, and you can still give it to him.
Listen, think past tomorrow. Think about a few months from now. A few years from now. Think about the future. If you abort your baby, it will be a future in a world utterly deprived of her presence. She will be gone. She will not exist. There will be a great, painful void. Where there should have been her laughter, there will be silence. She will be missing from everywhere, never to walk the Earth. You could search every corner and crevice of the universe, and she will not be there. In her place will be an absence, an emptiness, only a dream of what could have been.
Or it can be a future blessed by her life. It can be a world shaped, in whatever way, small or large, by her actions and her choices. Where there could have been silence, there can be her voice. Where there could have been a void, there she will be. And even if she is in the care of another family, you can always know that she is out there, she is living, and all of her successes, her joys, all of the people she touches, all of the good she does on this planet — it will all be thanks to you, thanks to the decision that you made. No matter where she goes and what she does, she will be yours. She will be a part of you, and you will be a part of her.
Think about that future.
Just think about it.
You don’t have to go through with this tomorrow. It’s such a tragic irony that the people who support abortion call it ‘pro-choice,’ yet so often, the women who get abortions do so because they feel they have no choice.
So what I’m saying, friend, is that you do have a choice. There is another way.
I don’t expect to convince you with this letter. I only want to give you a few things to consider. So rather than showing up for your appointment at the clinic tomorrow, hold off. Step back. Go for a walk. Take a drive.
Think about the future.
Think about your little one.
There is still time to change your mind.
You still have a choice.
Please, give your child a chance. Choose life.
A fellow parent