At this point in Amy Richards’s life, she’s killed more children than she’s brought into the world. She’s so proud of that fact that she’s not only shared her decision with the New York Times and its readers, but she also proudly models her business partner’s “I Had an Abortion” T-shirt at pro-abortion rallies and for various print publications.
Today, nearly 10 years to the day since we lost our first child through miscarriage, I still deeply grieve his loss. His is the face that I will never see; his is the body that I will never be able to hold, at least not in this life. I cannot speak, or write, about Gabriel without tears coming into my eyes. The loss is that profound.
How much greater must the loss be when a mother finally realizes that she has made the choice to kill the children within her womb, not once, not twice, but three times?
Unmarried, Richards had her first abortion at the age of 18. She didn’t write about that abortion in the Times. Instead, she wrote about her decision, at the age of 34, to abort the twins in a triplet pregnancy.
Richards wrote, “I cannot have triplets…. I live in a five-story walk-up in the East Village…. I would have to give up my main income for the rest of the year. I asked the doctor: ‘Is it possible to get rid of one of them? Or two of them?’”
When her boyfriend asked, “Shouldn’t we consider having triplets?” she responded negatively.
“I’d have to give up my life,” she wrote. “Not only would I have to be on bed rest at 20 weeks, I wouldn’t be able to fly after 15…. I’m going to have to move to Staten Island. I’ll never leave my house because I’ll have to care for these children. I’ll have to start shopping only at Costco and buying big jars of mayonnaise.”
Apparently, no one told her that giving up one’s life is what having children is all about.
No one told her about the compassion of New York City’s Sisters of Life. She could have stayed with the Sisters of Life for the entire term of her pregnancy without a worry about finances or rent or food or income.
No one told her about adoption and the millions of couples whose names remain on waiting lists as they pray for the opportunity to love and raise children that others do not feel able to raise on their own.
Apparently, Richards’s friends were unwilling to support her through a difficult pregnancy. That’s tragic.
Nearly seven years ago, my wife and I entered the ultrasound technician’s office expecting the worst. My wife had been bleeding during the night and we feared that we were suffering a second miscarrying.
After the technician passed the machine’s mouse-like tool over my wife’s womb, she said, “Your babies are fine both of them.”
Naturally, we were elated by the discovery that we were pregnant with healthy twins, but we were also concerned. We had a two-year-old son who needed our care. It was a high-risk pregnancy. I didn’t have a very high-paying job, and we lived in a two-story walk-up on St. Paul’s northern side.
In the end, my wife courageously endured six months of bed rest. I had to adjust my work schedule as a magazine editor considerably. We were forced to depend on countless family members and friends for meals and help with child care. Our changing table and crib were purchased from garage sales. Our mayonnaise, when my wife could stomach it, came in big jars from the local grocery store. Not only did we survive, but so did our twin daughters.
Nothing was the same after their birth. Children change your life. They’re supposed to. And they change it for the better.
But rather than tell the story of the thousands of women who regret their abortions each year, the Times decided to give a “voice” to one who not only doesn’t regret it, but who is a pro-abortion activist that flaunts her decision on the very clothing that she wears. Welcome, one and all, to the “Culture of Death” in the 21st century.
How sad that our most precious resource, a human being, has been reduced to a so-called “choice,” a commodity that can be thrown away because of his or her perceived inconvenience.
Can you imagine Germans during World War II wearing T-shirts sporting the slogan, “I Gassed a Jew”?
No, of course not. I can’t either. It’s abhorrent.
Yet, Planned Parenthood, the media, and our cultural elite have reduced the life of a vulnerable pre-born child to a mere four-word slogan.
The shirt’s message is so offensive that even Planned Parenthood affiliates in at least six states have described it as both “inappropriate” and “not a good idea.”
Mother Teresa used to say that, “It is a poverty that a child must die so that you may live as you wish.”
It is a poverty that we've reached a point where men and women can brag about killing their own children on the front of a T-shirt.
(This article originally appeared in the National Catholic Register.)