“There is a sense in which two and two are four, the plane of ledgers and cashbooks – on which these propositions are approximately sound. But if you rise from that plane to a loftier one, you will find at once that they are untenable … it is obviously untrue that half-a-baby and half-a-baby make a baby. Let the sword do its deadly work… The two halves of a baby make no baby at all. On this higher plane of human sentiment and experience, the laws of mathematics collapse completely.
When a man distributes his wealth among his children, he gives to each a part. But when a woman distributes her love among her children, she gives it all to each … No man who has once fallen in love will ever be persuaded that one and one are only two. He looks at her, and feels that one plus one would be a million … No happy couple into the sweet shelter of whose home a little child has come will ever be convinced that two and one are only three. Life has been enriched a thousandfold by the addition of that one little life to theirs. And I am certain that no pair from whose clinging and protecting arms their treasure has been snatched will find comfort in the assurance that one from three leaves two. In the great crises of life one’s faith in figures breaks down hopelessly.”
— F.W. Boreham, excerpt of “The Sword of Solomon”
Heard quoted by Ravi Zacharias.
Only when an article hits me this hard do I really feel the sacrifice of giving up Facebook for Lent. There’s a frustration in not being able to share with others something that so deeply chokes my heart. It’s then that I remember that I have a blog and can, at the very least, not lose the resource entirely.
And yet after we lost Olivia, it didn’t take long for me to realize that in this Christian microcosm of ours, somehow an aborted baby had so much more to offer the world than a miscarried one.
Both babies may have died at the same gestation – one by choice, the other by chance. But the value attached to each child completely depended on how that child died. Here are some of the mixed messages I received — sometimes just hinted at, other times outright:An aborted baby deserves to be grieved. A miscarried one deserves to be gotten over. And quickly. An aborted baby could have been the next Einstein or Bach or Mother Theresa. A miscarried baby was probably damaged goods.
An aborted baby was killed against God’s design. A miscarried baby fulfilled God’s plans.
An aborted baby was a real person, and should have the rights as such. A miscarried baby was not a real child – naming them really is kinda weird. Speaking of weird . . . counting them in the line-up of your children? THAT’S weird!
An aborted baby should always be missed in this world. God had created them for a purpose, no matter what health issues they may have had. A miscarried baby was meant for heaven — and we moms should just be so thankful we have a baby in heaven, and should not grieve the loss of their place on earth. After all, they never TRULY had a place on earth, did they?
A beautiful, valuable, miscarried baby.
An aborted baby is a tragedy. A miscarried baby is slight bump on the road of life.
An aborted baby could never be replaced. A miscarried baby can always be replaced – “Oh, don’t worry, hon – your time will come again. You’ll have more. Just relax and trust God. You’ll see.”
An aborted baby’s mom should know exactly what she’s missing out on if she has living children. A miscarried baby’s mom should not grieve that loss, but instead, should just be thankful for the lives of her living children.