Search AFA

For Those Unwanted

Tuesday, July 28, 2015 @ 2:43 PM
For Those Unwanted Dr. Ray Rooney, Jr. Digital Media Editor MORE

I knew it was coming.  I had already read that Planned Parenthood said they were afraid a video might yet be released that showed the actual “procurement” of unborn baby organs and tissues.  Dumped unceremoniously and inhumanely onto a tray, a human being is being reassembled following dismemberment while technicians are snickering and giggling.  Unmitigated evil.

I had to shut the door to my office because the tears began to flow. 

It’s been 15 years now.  My wife was pregnant with our fourth child.  Ultrasound showed it was to be our first son.  Lemuel.  This was the fourth go around for us so everything was (unfortunately) seemingly routine.  We were halfway there at 20 weeks for a routine ob-gyn checkup.  It was so routine I stayed at work while our oldest daughter accompanied my wife to the doctor.

It seems like it was around four or five in the afternoon and I got a call from the clinic.  It wasn’t my wife.  The nurse said I was needed.  I knew it couldn’t be good.  When I got there the nurse was waiting and waved me into the back.  The entire mood in the clinic seemed somber.  I saw my wife and daughter and both were weeping.  The doctor couldn’t find a heartbeat.  It had been fine and healthy on all the other visits.  It was nowhere to be found on that day.  Our firstborn son was gone.

A few days later we were in the hospital to induce labor.  I had been present for two of our deliveries (the first was a C-section and I wasn’t allowed in) and this seemed no different.  When at last our son was born the doctor was visibly shaking.  He gingerly put Lemuel in a little blanket and laid him next to my wife. 

Though he was gone it was such a privilege to actually see him for a little while.  So small.  Tiny.  Perfect except for a heart that wouldn’t beat.  We cherished those few moments and then said goodbye. 

No, not to some hospital incinerator.  The funeral home came.  We had a graveside service a day or two later.  A tiny casket was provided and our son was laid to rest in a special section of the cemetery called “Baby Land.” 

I went home and I wrote to my son. 

Today, when I saw that horrible, vulgar, but undeniable video I couldn’t help but contrast it to the broken hearts, the dignity, and the love that was so present 15 years ago.  Here was a little baby that nobody cared for or about.  Here, snickering and giggling.  Fifteen years ago the room was drenched in reverence, awe, and sadness. 

God, what have we become?

I said that I wrote to my son.  Today, I want to share those words written to a boy named Lemuel on behalf of all those babies that weren’t afforded the dignity and reverence for their little bodies that was given to him.  My son was wrapped in a little orange blanket and treated just like any other baby delivered at that women’s hospital.  Maybe God will allow the words written for him to count in some way for all those who have been harvested and “procured” by those given over to evil.

 

You Are My Child

 

Lemuel you are my child

Though I never got to calm you

Though I never got to hear you

Though I never got to parent you

You are my child.

 

Did you hear us Lemuel?

Did you hear us talking?

Did you hear your sisters’ voices?

Did you hear the world beckoning?

You are my child.

 

Did you know something went wrong?

Were you afraid?

Did you try to let us know?

Did you think we didn’t care?

You are my child.

 

A stranger startled you in the darkness

She called your name and you understood

She took the fear and the confusion away

She said, “Someone wants to see you”

You are my child.

 

As you left us you looked back

You knew we would be sad

 You cast a worried look at your new friend

She assured you He would take care of us

You are my child.

 

I had become complacent

The news that you had gone was not for me

I saw your image twice…so still…so quiet

That is when the news became a loss

You are my child.

 

And then I saw you face to face

Simultaneous joy and pain like two freight trains

I held you; I touched you; I loved you

I will never forget those few precious moments with you

You are my child.

Lemuel we miss the future with you

As you grow in a land of no tears

If from time to time I cover my face and cry

Let me know you understand

You are my child.

 

Though your time here was so short

You have touched our lives eternally

The pain will surely subside

But one thing will always remain unchanged,

Lemuel you are my son.

 

Missing you,

Dad

SHOW COMMENTS
Please Note: We moderate all reader comments, usually within 24 hours of posting (longer on weekends). Please limit your comment to 300 words or less and ensure it addresses the content. Comments that contain a link (URL), an inordinate number of words in ALL CAPS, rude remarks directed at the author or other readers, or profanity/vulgarity will not be approved.

CONNECT WITH US

Find us on social media for the latest updates.

SUPPORT AFA

MAKE A DONATION Donor Related Questions: DONORSUPPORT@AFA.NET

CONTACT US

P.O. Drawer 2440 Tupelo, Mississippi 38803 662-844-5036 FAQ@AFA.NET
Copyright ©2017 American Family Association. All rights reserved.