;] Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> life begins long before birth.
>
> the dna that goes to make you you - or mephisto or
> miz - that is, the dna that
> determines the color of your eyes and skin, and
> maybe whether you're gay or
> straight, that unique combination of dna was
> created at the moment of conception -
> that is when your life began.
>
> substantially unchanged, your dna is the same
> today as the moment you were conceived.
>
> to everybody reading these words: because your
> mother did not have an abortion,
> you can read this. if your mother had had an
> abortion, you would be dead --
> you would not have been born and would not have
> grown into the person you are today.
>
> but no one has the right to say you can't be born,
> not even your own mother.
>
> i know there are hard cases.
>
> suppose the mother of a family of 14 is pregnant
> again. further suppose her
> husband has a history of alcohol abuse and mental
> disorders which frequently
> causes him to abuse his other children. let's say
> the mother herself is already
> worn out from trying to care single-handedly for
> her large family and doesn't
> feel she can care for another child at this point.
> on top of all this, two of the
> kids are alcoholics, one of them is in a mental
> institution, and none of the
> children have steady, dependable jobs.
>
> abortion or not?
>
> well, if you choose abortion, you've just killed
> beethoven.
>
>
>
> anywho, here's author/poet Wendell Berry's
> response to an inquiry re: the
> consequences of treating a fetus as a human being
>
> Quote:
>
> When my wife saw your topic, "The consequences of
> treating the fetus as a human
> being," she said, "What else would it be? A pig,
> or a sheep?" And that is the way
> I would approach your problem. A human fetus is a
> human being because a human
> being is what it is.
>
> The first mistake may have been in calling it a
> "fetus." In the tongue of our
> real experience we don't say "fetus." We say
> "child" or "baby." When we talk,
> like clinicians, about "aborting a fetus," we are
> implicitly acknowledging that
> it is wrong to kill a child. "Let us destroy this
> fetus," we are saying, "before
> we have imagined its human face and suffered its
> human claims."
>
> And this is what we mean when we speak of our
> warheads destroying an "enemy
> city": "Let us kill them abstractedly and far
> away, before we have seen them
> clearly enough even to hate them." Suppose our
> government should begin to say to
> us, "Let us be ready to kill all the Russian men,
> women, and children." It would
> be different. The greatest difference would be
> made by the thought of the
> children. Humanity has always understood that it
> is a horrible thing to make an
> enemy of a child.
>
> What if we did treat our "fetuses" and our
> "foreign enemies" as human beings? It
> would be fearful indeed, no one can doubt it.
>
> For then we would have to take up living in
> reality.
>
> And reality always instructs us, when we become
> bold enough to venture into it,
> that we do not know enough to kill a human being.
> We are not eligible to accept
> that responsibility. Reality informs us that we
> live in mystery. A child may be a
> great burden or a great privilege. An enemy may
> become a friend, a friend an
> enemy. The value of a human life can only be
> determined by experience. That is
> our problem, and we have plenty of reasons to
> regret it. But the problem is only
> made worse by the assumption that there are simple
> technological remedies.
>
> What is most disturbing about the acceptance of
> abortion as a normal solution is
> its association with "sexual liberation." One of
> our prominent characteristics as
> a nation now is the wish to free sexual love of
> its consequences--which is to say
> that we have become a nation of fantasists. In
> reality, sexual love has
> consequences. It has consequences even if it does
> not result in babies. But until
> recently, babies were understood to be among its
> expectable consequences. Sexual
> love, that is, was understood to be connected to
> fertility. And this connection
> gave sex the power of an endlessly ramifying
> wonder and joy: It renewed our kind
> and therefore our hope. (It involved us also, of
> course, in the history of the
> failure of hope; not all babies, by any means,
> have been a joy to their parents
> or a credit to humankind, though these failures do
> not license the destruction of
> babies.) But with us, sex no longer has a place
> either in human nature or in
> human culture. We have made it a specialty,
> degraded and industrialized, an
> energy mined and merchandised for quick
> consumption, exhausted in use.
>
> Surely it is too much to expect that the "freedom"
> and "naturalness" of
> technological sex should prepare us to become
> proper nurturers of children. In
> general, it seems likely that we will care for our
> children neither more nor less
> than we care for one another as adults. And the
> true caring of adults for one
> another always involves respect, devotion,
> fidelity, restraint--all the cultural
> means of preserving the natural life.
>
> I don't mean to underrate the danger of the
> "population explosion" or to rule
> out "birth control" as a consideration. I do think
> that the belief that "there
> are too many people" is potent with violence
> toward some people--"fetuses" or any
> other unpowerful group or class or race. And I
> think that the now almost
> universal insinuation that sexual love may
> properly go free of sexual discipline
> is as gross a danger to humanity as any other that
> we face.
>
> --Wendell Berry, Port Royal, KY
>
> End of quote.
>
>
> Source:
>
http://groups.csail.mit.edu/mac/users/rauch/nvp/co
> nsistent/whole-earth.html
;] Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> What I Saw at the Abortion
> by Richard Selzer, M.D.
>
> Published in Esquire, Jan. 1976; reprinted in
> Selzer, Mortal Lessons: Notes in
> the Art of Surgery (Simon and Schuster: New York,
> 1976).
>
> I am a surgeon. I do not shrink from the
> particularities of sick flesh. Escaping
> blood, all the outpourings of disease -- phlegm,
> pus, vomitus, even those occult
> meaty tumors that terrify -- I see as blood,
> disease, phlegm, and so on. I touch
> them to destroy them. But I do not make symbols of
> them. I have seen, and I am
> used to seeing. Yet there are paths within the
> body that I have not taken,
> penetralia where I do not go. Nor is it lack of
> technique, limitation of
> knowledge that forbids me these ways.
>
> It is the western wing of the fourth floor of a
> great university hospital. An
> abortion is about to take place. I am present
> because I asked to be present. I
> wanted to see what I had never seen.
>
> The patient is Jamaican. She lies on the table
> submissively, and now and then she
> smiles at one of the nurses as though
> acknowledging a secret.
>
> A nurse draws down the sheet, lays bare the
> abdomen. The belly mounds gently in
> the twenty-fourth week of pregnancy. The chief
> surgeon paints it with a sponge
> soaked in red antiseptic. He does this three
> times, each time a fresh sponge. He
> covers the area with a sterile sheet, an aperture
> in its center. He is a kindly
> man who teaches as he works, who pauses to
> reassure the woman.
>
> He begins.
>
> A little pinprick, he says to the woman.
>
> He inserts the point of a tiny needle at the
> midline of the lower portion of her
> abdomen, on the downslope. He infiltrates local
> anesthetic into the skin, where
> it forms a small white bubble.
>
> The woman grimaces.
>
> That is all you will feel, the doctor says. Except
> for a little pressure. But no
> more pain.
>
> She smiles again. She seems to relax. She settles
> comfortably on the table. The
> worst is over.
>
> The doctor selects a three-and-one-half-inch
> needle bearing a central stylet. He
> places the point at each site of the previous
> injection. He aims it straight up
> and down, perpendicular. Next he takes hold of her
> abdomen with his left hand,
> palming the womb, steadying it. He thrusts with
> his right hand. The needle sinks
> into the abdominal wall.
>
> Oh, says the woman quietly.
>
> But I guess it is not pain that she feels. It is
> more a recognition that the deed
> is being done.
>
> Another thrust and he has spread the uterus.
>
> We are in, he says.
>
> He has felt the muscular wall of the organ
> gripping the shaft of his needle. A
> further slight pressure on the needle advances it
> a bit more. He takes his left
> hand from the woman's abdomen. He retracts the
> filament of the stylet from the
> barrel of the needle. A small geyser of pale
> yellow fluid erupts.
>
> We are in the right place, says the doctor. Are
> you feeling any pain? he asks.
>
> She smiles, shakes her head. She gazes at the
> ceiling.
>
> In the room we are six: two physicians, two
> nurses, the patient, and me. The
> participants are busy, very attentive. I am not at
> all busy -- but I am no less
> attentive. I want to see.
>
> I see something! It is unexpected, utterly
> unexpected, like a disturbance in the
> earth, a tumultuous jarring. I see a movement -- a
> small one. But I have seen it.
>
> And then I see it again. And now I see that it is
> the hub of the needle in the
> woman's belly that has jerked. First to one side.
> Then to the other side. Once
> more it wobbles, is tugged, like a fishing line
> nibbled by a sunfish.
>
> Again! And I know!
>
> It is that the fetus that worries thus. It is the
> fetus struggling against the
> needle. Struggling? How can that be? I think: that
> cannot be. I think: the fetus
> feels no pain, cannot feel fear, has no
> motivation. It is merely reflex.
>
> I point to the needle.
>
> It is a reflex, says the doctor.
>
> By the end of the fifth month, the fetus weighs
> about one pound, is about twelve
> inches long. Hair is on the head. There are
> eyebrows, eyelashes. Pale pink
> nipples show on the chest. Nails are present, at
> the fingertips, at the toes.
>
> At the beginning of the sixth month, the fetus can
> cry, can suck, can make a
> fist. He kicks, he punches. The mother can feel
> this, can SEE this. His eyelids,
> until now closed, can open. He may look up, down,
> sideways. His grip is very
> strong. He could support his weight by holding
> with one hand.
>
> A reflex, the doctor says.
>
> I hear him. But I saw something in that mass of
> cells UNDERSTAND that it must bob
> and butt. And I see it again! I have an impulse to
> shove to the table -- it is
> just a step -- seize that needle, pull it out.
>
> We are not six, I think. We are seven.
>
> Something strangles there. An effort, its effort,
> bind me to it.
>
> I do not shove to the table. I take no little
> step. It would be... well, madness.
> Everyone here wants the needle where it is. Six
> do. No, five do.
>
> I close my eyes. I see the inside of the uterus.
> It is bathed in ruby gloom. I
> see the creature curled upon itself. Its knees are
> flexed. Its head is bent upon
> its chest. It is in fluid and gently rocks to the
> rhythm of the distant heartbeat.
>
> It resembles... a sleeping infant.
>
> Its place is entered by something. It is sudden. A
> point coming. A needle!
>
> A spike of daylight pierces the chamber. Now the
> light is extinguished. The
> needle comes closer in the pool. The point grazes
> the thigh, and I stir. Perhaps
> I wake from dozing. The light is there again. I
> twist and straighten. My arms and
> legs push. My hand finds the shaft -- grabs! I
> grab. I bend the needle this way
> and that. The point probes, touches on my belly.
> My mouth opens. Could I cry out?
> All is a commotion and a churning. There is a
> presence in the pool. An activity!
> The pool colors, reddens, darkens.
>
> I open my eyes to see the doctor feeding a small
> plastic tube through the barrel
> of the needle into the uterus. Drops of pink fluid
> overrun the rim and spill onto
> the sheet. He withdraws the needle from around the
> plastic tubing. Now only the
> little tube protrudes from the woman's body. A
> nurse hands the physician a
> syringe loaded with a colorless liquid. He
> attaches it to the end of the tubing
> and injects it.
>
> Prostaglandin, he says.
>
> Ah well, prostaglandin -- a substance found
> normally in the body. When given in
> concentrated dosage, it throws the uterus into
> vigorous contraction. In eight to
> twelve hours, the woman will expel the fetus.
>
> The doctor detaches the syringe but does not
> remove the tubing.
>
> In case we must do it over, he says.
>
> He takes away the sheet. He places gauze pads over
> the tubing. Over all this he
> applies adhesive tape.
>
> I know. We cannot feed the great numbers. There is
> no more room. I know, I know.
> It is a woman's right to refuse the risk, to
> decline the pain of childbirth. And
> an unwanted child is a very great burden. An
> unwanted child is a burden to
> himself. I know.
>
> And yet... there is the flick of that needle. I
> SAW it. I saw -- I felt -- in
> that room, a pace away, life prodded, life fending
> off. I saw life avulsed --
> swept by flood, blackening -- then out.
>
> There, says the doctor. It's all over. It wasn't
> too bad, was it? he says to the
> woman.
>
> She smiles. It is all over. Oh, yes.
>
> And who would care to imagine that from a moist
> and dark commencement six months
> before there would ripen the cluster and globule,
> the sprout and pouch of man?
>
> And who would care to imagine that trapped within
> the laked pearl and a dowry of
> yoke would lie the earliest stuff of dream and
> memory?
>
> It is a persona carried here as well as a person,
> I think. I think it is a signed
> piece, engraved with the hieroglyph of human
> genes.
>
> I did not think this until I saw. The flick. The
> fending off.
>
> Later, in the corridor, the doctor explains that
> the law does not permit abortion
> beyond the twenty-fourth week. That is when the
> fetus may be viable, he says. We
> stand together for a moment, and he tells of an
> abortion in which the fetus cried
> after it was passed.
>
> What did you do? I ask him.
>
> There was nothing to do but let it live, he says.
> It did very well, he says. A
> case of mistaken dates.
>
>
> Source:
>
http://www.amazon.com/Mortal-Lessons-Notes-Art-Sur
> gery/dp/0156004003
;] Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Why I No Longer Do Abortions
> by George Flesh, M.D.
>
> Published in Los Angeles Times, September 12,
> 1991: B7.
>
>
> Last Yom Kippur, I decided to stop doing
> abortions.
>
> My first abortions, as an intern and resident,
> caused me no emotional distress. I
> felt that I was helping a patient solve a serious
> problem. The fetus was no more
> than unwanted tissue. Although doing
> second-trimester abortions sometimes
> disturbed me, my qualms were easily overcome by
> ideas of women's rights and free
> choice. Among most people I respected, the
> practice of abortion might as well
> have been part of the Bill of Rights.
>
> My discontent began after many hundreds of
> abortions.
>
> I decided to do no more second-trimester abortions
> when I started my private
> practice. Extracting a fetus, piece by piece, was
> bad for my sleep. But as a
> gynecologic consultant at a university health
> center, I saw many early abortion
> referrals, since unwanted pregnancy is, by far,
> the most common surgical problem
> in young women. I felt great sympathy for these
> women, often abandoned by
> boyfriends or afraid to tell them about their
> pregnancy. I took good care of
> these patients. Their gratitude gave me much
> satisfaction.
>
> But, insidiously, the satisfaction diminished.
> Depression clouded my office day
> when I had an abortion scheduled. My pulse raced
> after giving the local
> anesthetic. Although I still felt sorry for the
> unmarried 20-year-old college
> junior, I felt increasing anger toward the married
> couples who requested
> abortions because a law-firm partnership was
> imminent, or a house remodeling was
> incomplete, or even because summer travel tickets
> were paid for.
>
> Anxiety attacks, complete with nausea,
> palpitations and dizziness, began to
> strike me in some social situations. In public, I
> felt I was on trial, or perhaps
> should have been. I no longer was proud to be a
> physician. Arriving home from
> work to the gleeful embrace of my kids, I felt
> undeserving that God had blessed
> me with their smiling faces. The morning shaving
> ritual became an ordeal, as I
> stared at the sad face in the mirror and wondered
> how all those awards and
> diplomas had produced an angel of death.
>
> Why did I change?
>
> Early in my practice, a married couple came to me
> and requested an abortion.
> Because the patient's cervix was rigid, I was
> unable to dilate it to perform the
> procedure. I asked her to return in a week, when
> the cervix would be softer.
>
> The couple returned and told me that they had
> changed their minds and wanted
> to "keep the baby." I delivered the baby seven
> months later.
>
> Years later, I played with little Jeffrey in the
> pool at the tennis club where
> his parents and I were members. He was happy and
> beautiful. I was horrified to
> think that only a technical obstacle had prevented
> me from terminating Jeffrey's
> potential life.
>
> The connection between a 6-week-old human embryo
> and a laughing child stopped
> being an abstraction for me. While hugging my sons
> each morning, I started to
> think of the vacuum aspirator that I would use two
> hours later. This was an
> emotional tension I could not tolerate.
>
> Nor could I live with the conflict between Jewish
> law and my medical practice.
> Judaism has became the lens through which I see
> the world. The Mitzvot-God's
> commandments-guided my behavior. But as a
> religious Jew, my desire to fulfill
> Torah was absurd as long as I performed elective
> abortions-a clear transgression.
>
> My ritual observances-from Shabbat kiddash to
> lulav and etrog on Sukkot-seemed
> hollow and hypocritical. I yearned to sing prayers
> passionately. I could not draw
> closer to God. Wrapping myself in tallit and
> tefillin meant nothing. The
> contradiction was too great. My spiritual
> aspirations were shattering. My
> intellectual integrity was disintegrating. I had
> to stop doing abortions.
>
> Perhaps you might expect to hear me speaking at
> the next anti-abortion rally. You
> will not. There are some abortions I would do even
> now-pregnancies that threaten
> the mother's life, pregnancies resulting from rape
> or incest, pregnancies
> involving extreme birth defects.
>
> Second, I am unable to impose my personal beliefs
> on a woman who feels her
> pregnancy will ruin her life. My conscience would
> not tolerate the terrible
> complications that illegal abortions would
> inevitably produce.
>
> Finally, I do not believe that all immoral actions
> must be illegal. Perhaps in my
> ideal society of chastity until marriage, of
> poverty eradicated, of universal
> respect for human life, abortion would be illegal.
> Alas, the Messiah (whether it
> be for a first or second time) has not arrived.
>
> But I am revolted when I see how casually some
> couples choose an abortion-for the
> convenience of having a baby in June instead of
> February, for example. I do not
> believe that a civilized society should encourage
> this.
>
> The reality of "choice" has profound moral and
> spiritual costs. The idea
> of "moral and spiritual costs" may seem irrelevant
> or chimerical to some. It is
> as hard as rock to me. As for elective
> second-trimester abortions, I believe that
> they should be illegal. I understand that for some
> women this would be a terrible
> burden. Some would bear deeply unwanted
> pregnancies; others would have illegal
> abortions; those who could afford it would go out
> of the country.
>
> But I believe that tearing a developed fetus
> apart, limb by limb, simply at the
> mother's request is an act of depravity that
> society should not permit. We cannot
> afford such a devaluation of human life, nor the
> desensitization of medical
> personnel that it requires. This is not based on
> what the fetus might feel, but
> on what we should feel in watching an exquisite,
> partly formed human being being
> dismembered, whether one believes that man is
> created in God's image or not. I
> wish everybody could witness a second-trimester
> abortion before developing an
> opinion about it.
>
> Since I stopped doing abortions, my life has
> blossomed. I love my practice. Years
> of struggle and guilt have ended. A certain calm
> and inner peace have returned. I
> feel closer to God. Our third child, Hanna, was
> born, bringing my wife and me
> immeasurable joy. She is named after my two
> grandmothers, one who survived
> Auschwitz and the other who was murdered there.
>
> Yom Kippur is approaching again. Last week I went
> to a sofer to check my
> tefillin. I had to buy new ones. My old tefillin
> were not kosher.
>
>
> Source:
>
http://pqasb.pqarchiver.com/latimes/offers.html?ur
> l=%2Flatimes%2Faccess%2F61482511.html%3Fdids%3D614
> 82511%3A61482511%26FMT%3DFT%26FMTS%3DABS%3AFT%26ty
> pe%3Dcurrent%26date%3DSep%2B12%252C%2B1991%26autho
> r%3DGEORGE%2BFLESH%26pub%3DLos%2BAngeles%2BTimes%2
> B(pre-1997%2BFulltext)%26edition%3D%26startpage%3D
> 7%26desc%3DPERSPECTIVE%2BON%2BHUMAN%2BLIFE%2BWhy%2
> BI%2BNo%2BLonger%2BDo%2BAbortions%2BTearing%2Ba%2B
> second-%2Btrimester%2Bfetus%2Bapart%2Bsimply%2Bat%
> 2Ba%2Bmother%2527s%2Brequest%2Bis%2Bdepravity%2Bth
> at%2Bshould%2Bnot%2Bbe%2Bpermitted.
tl;dr
--------------------------------------------------------------
13 4826 0948 82695 25847. Yes.