As I sit here attempting to write my annual post on Roe vs. Wade, I struggle to make sense of what is happening in this country. There is no doubt, dark days ahead. We have now an administration who is traitor to our countries ideals as well as to their professed religious beliefs. Already, threats of rolling back protections for the unborn have been aired. Worst of all, the March for Life has been cancelled due to increased military presence in the principle streets of Washington. 

Yet, we are not entirely without hope. We have seen Missouri recently declare itself abortion-free...only 49 more states to go! And there are still local advocacies and spiritual warfare that are still happening at abortion clinics. Court cases are still going through, with the hopes that the dreaded Roe vs. Wade will be killed at last. 

For the past three years, I have made attempts at eloquent speeches, full of feeling and hard truths. This year, I have decided to put that aside and talk about something a little more personal. I want to share something that has convicted me of my humanity, now more than ever before. 

To understand this, we have to go back a little bit in time to Christmas Eve night, 2020. 

It had been raining hard all day, melting the numerous inches of snow we had received during the previous week, not to mention ruining any chance of a white Christmas. At 5pm, my brother Anthony's guardian angel prompted him to go pray in a quiet place and so he went to the basement....

And discovered that there was 1.5 inches of standing water on the basement floor. 

Cue the family panic and the donning of boots for a fast salvage action (and, quite a few scares, including the smashing of a mercury bulb, but that is neither here nor there). 

Now, to be fair, the basement had flooded many times since we had moved in, but this particular flood was one of the most serious. While the majority of the items stored in the basement were in fact in waterproof tubs, there were still several boxes of paperwork and books that got water damaged. 

It is one of those boxes that my story concerns with. It was a long cardboard box, chock full of folders of financial and medical records from the mid-90s. My parents had simply not gotten around to shredding the stuff. The bottom of the box had gotten wet, but it was uncertain whether the paperwork had been completely ruined or not. Therefore, it was my job to remove and sort the contents so the wet box could be disposed of. 

I reached for a folder and opened it. There on the top was a photocopied medical record for my mother. Being the snoop that I am, I flipped idly through it. 

And then I got to the last page....and found something that shook me to the core. 

It was this: 

Now anyone with two eyes can see that THAT is a baby. Another check of the record soon confirmed that I was staring at one of my mother's OB records. The question was...which kid was it in the picture? 

A quick check of the dates and the location of the clinic soon confirmed it....

That baby was ME. 

How can I describe that kind of a moment? All I could do was stare at that picture. There were in fact two others, but they were rather unclear, just as I would expect photocopied early ultrasounds to look like. I wasn't expecting one with such a recognizable face, even down to the sassy smile that I still own. 

I later found out that those pictures were from when I was 12 weeks into gestation. You'd think from the picture that I would have been a little older, but I was a big baby (8lbs 11 oz at birth). 

And yet it's horrible to think about the fact that this is among the most common ages for babies to be aborted. 

So many of us never see these kinds of pictures of ourselves. I'm not sure when the printed ultrasound pictures became available, but I would guess that it started with my generation. 

Yet the reality remains the same. 

God knows us from conception, even if we are hidden from the world. Therefore, we all deserve a chance to save their souls. With abortion, these innocent babies don't get that chance. 

Therefore, we must strain every effort to eradicate this greatest killer of mankind. Even with national efforts being suppressed, we can still participate in local pro-life affairs. Because of the spiritual nature of the fight, the spiritual weapons of prayer, fasting and giving alms to pro-life causes are our best weapons. I would heartily recommend the Novena for the Protection of the Unborn especially. 

And most of all, let us keep HOPE. For "rebellions are built on hope", as Jyn Erso says in Rogue One. And it's quite safe to say that we are in full rebellion from the demonic forces that attempt to shut us down again and again. 

Old-fashionably yours, 

Catherine