Madam Speaker, I appreciate the gentleman yielding. I rise today on the eve of the March for Life as a cancer survivor, as someone who appreciates every day that we are given from the good Lord above as a gift. I want to recount a story…
Madam Speaker, I appreciate the gentleman yielding. I rise today on the eve of the March for Life as a cancer survivor, as someone who appreciates every day that we are given from the good Lord above as a gift.
I want to recount a story from a couple of years ago that my wife and I shared in ``National Review Online''. What do you do when the doctor coldly asks whether you would like to terminate your child? Two years ago this month, this became very real to my wife and I and we wrote about it in the article in ``National Review''.
We received a call from one of our dearest friends. She was pregnant. She asked me if I would be the baby's godfather, but her words of joy were tempered. She then went on to explain a series of harrowing medical concerns, the most significant of which was that the baby might be missing a part of his brain, a part that connects the left and right hemispheres.
She was terrified and she couldn't ask questions quickly enough. Forty-eight excruciating hours later, the MRI was performed and it was inconclusive. She was told to come back again in 2 weeks for another ultrasound.
The next week, her obstetrician, a woman doctor, silently reviewed the file. Then she looked at our friend straight in the eye and asked her if she wanted to terminate the pregnancy.
Now, my friend explained that the doctor had asked her the question in the same tone that she might have used when she ordered a coffee at Starbucks. She didn't blink an eye. She asked the question in front of her two little boys. She asked without her husband there. She offered no explanation or comfort. It was cold.
The doctor told her she had to decide quickly because she was approaching the 22-week limit, which is as long as you can legally seek an abortion in Virginia.
Our friend's response was a source of pride for us. She told us she almost laughed and then politely responded that termination was not an option. She walked out of that doctor's office and never returned.
In a world where everything and everyone seems to be so sensitive about every word that is uttered, we have completely desensitized abortion. We use politically correct words. One is pro-choice. The pregnancy is terminated because no one wants to say that the baby was killed. But if you are ending an innocent life on purpose, I am not sure what other way to put it.
So how did it all turn out? Her ultrasound was completely normal at 24 weeks. Her baby was born. He is my godson. He is healthy. He came here and he saw his godfather get sworn into Congress.
Choose life. Life is not perfect. But each life is perfect.
Madam Speaker, I include in the Record this op-ed in its entirety, which was published on January 26, 2017, in ``National Review Online'', coauthored by my wife, Carrah.
[From the National Review, Jan. 26, 2017]
A Mother's Love and the March That Matters
(By Chip Roy & Carrah Roy)
What do you do when the doctor coldly asks whether you'd
like to `terminate' your child?
For many people, January 2017 will be marked by the
inauguration of a president and a march on Washington the
following day. For us, every January is marked by two phone
calls we received in January 2015--and by a very different
march.
The ``Women's March on Washington'' has already been all-
consuming on social media. It was billed as an ``inclusive''
movement with the vision:
We stand together in solidarity with our partners and
children for the protection of our rights, our safety, our
health, and our families--recognizing that our vibrant and
diverse communities are the strength of our country.
Sounds so caring--until you learn that ``inclusive'' and
``diverse'' mean that if you are pro-life, you are not
welcome, and if you don't attend or join in this supposed
solidarity, you are ``anti-woman.'' Doesn't seem as
inclusive, does it?
In deed, it is wholly exclusive. In their zeal to shock and
to trumpet a convoluted notion of freedom to have their
bodies ``left alone,'' these marchers exclude the bodies of
the unborn. What about the rights of an unborn child? What
about the safety of an unborn child? What about the health of
an unborn child?
Two years ago this month, this became very real to us.
We received a call from one of our dearest friends. Then 32
and already mother to two healthy, wonderful boys, our friend
said, with an air of urgency, ``[My husband] and I wanted to
wait a little longer to ask, but something's come up and we
have to ask now. I am pregnant--and we want you to be the
baby's godfather.'' We were thrilled, but the excitement was
tempered by the strange introduction. Here's what she
explained to me.
She and her husband, having two boys already, couldn't wait
to find out whether they would add another boy to the crew or
instead start buying things that were pink. They excitedly
drove to the appointment for the baby's 20-week ultrasound to
find out. A few minutes into the sonogram, the ultrasound
tech excused herself from the room. Immediately, their hearts
sank. Something was .wrong. It was a long wait. Finally, the
radiologist came back into the room and moved the wand around
with a blank look on her face. Then, she told our friend to
get dressed and come into her office. She explained that the
baby might be missing a part of his brain, the part that
connects the left and right hemispheres.
She was terrified but couldn't ask questions fast enough.
Would the baby survive the pregnancy? Live outside the womb?
Were these minor developmental delays or major issues? She
and her husband were sent home without answers and told to
come back so they could perform an MRI of the baby's brain.
The technician thought that the baby might be lying in a
position that didn't allow the doctor to get a good view and
that the MRI could clear it up.
Forty-eight excruciating hours later, the MRI was
performed. It was inconclusive.
They did learn that the condition could range from minor
developmental delays to severe cognitive and life-threatening
issues, but they wouldn't know the specifics for their child
until the baby was born. They were told to come back again in
two weeks for another ultrasound.
None of us stopped praying those two weeks. For our friend
it was a constant conversation with God. She was scared, but
she said that she knew it would be okay. She knew the baby
would be okay. She ``just knew.'' She felt scared of the
unknown but also at peace, saying, ``God gave me this baby
for a reason.'' If the baby needed help, she would do
everything she could and God ``would help'' them. And she
would love that baby just like she loves her two boys.
She had a monthly check up with her ob-gyn the following
week. Her husband had to work, but she took their two boys
with her. They liked going to hear the baby's heartbeat and
the checkups were usually routine and quick. She went in to
the appointment expecting that her doctor would reassure her
and answer more questions than the radiologist had. The
doctor--a woman--silently reviewed the file. Then the doctor
looked our friend straight in the eye and asked her if she
wanted to terminate the pregnancy.
She called us right after that appointment, understandably
angry and terrified. Terminate? What?
She explained that the doctor had asked her the question in
the same tone she might have used when ordering coffee at
Starbucks. She didn't blink an eye. She asked it in front of
her two little boys. She asked without her husband there. She
offered no explanation or comfort. It was cold. The doctor
told her she had to decide quickly because she was
approaching 22 weeks (which is as long as you can legally
wait to have an abortion in Virginia).
Our friend's response was such a source of pride for us.
She told us ``she almost laughed and then politely responded
that `termination' was not an option.'' She walked out of
that doctor's office and never returned.
Yes, there may be some issues. She didn't have a perfect
ultrasound. But it was her
baby who, she told us, ``was growing inside of her, kicking,
loving music, moving when the boys spoke toward her belly,
doing somersaults when she ate ice cream.''
We all realized that God put our friend in this position
for a reason. She has a strong faith. She knew she could
handle it, because God was with her. She told us that the
baby ``would know love, would feel love.'' Facing her fear of
the unknown with faith and love strengthened her as a mother
and a woman. But what if it hadn't been our friend? What if
another woman had listened to that doctor, who made it feel
so easy and acceptable to just ``terminate'' and try again
for a ``better'' outcome.
We use politically correct words . . . The pregnancy is
``terminated.'' Because no one wants to say that she killed
her baby.
In a world where everything and everyone seems to be so
sensitive, we have completely desensitized abortion. We use
politically correct words. One is ``pro-choice.'' The
pregnancy is ``terminated.'' Because no one wants to say that
she kilted her baby. But if you are ending an innocent life
on purpose, we're not sure what other way to put it.
But sadly, even today, more than 3,000 abortions are
performed every day in the United States. That is more than 1
million per year. Since Roe v. Wade inserted unelected judges
into the question of the beginning of life, more than 56
million babies have died at the hands of abortionists--56
million. Just let that sink in.
So how did it all turn out? Her ultrasound was completely
normal at 24 weeks. They just couldn't get a good read at her
20-week appointment. Her baby was born in May of 2015 and is
completely healthy. It was a boy, by the way. None of us--but
particularly his loving and courageous mother--can imagine
life without him.
This week, there will be another march on Washington: the
one that truly matters. This one is to celebrate life, and
all are welcome, including the unborn and those who love
them.
Choose Life. Life is not perfect, but each life is perfect.