'They wanted to die me. They wanted to die me. I don't want to die Mum.'
(Insert wanting to cry here, instead I suck it up)
'Yes, they did. But we fought for you and God has saved you. (I lift his shirt and show him his scar). You had these operations instead, and the doctors helped save you. That's why you have this on your chest'
He nods his head, and looks at me.
'I love you Mummy, I'm alive.'
'I love you to little mate. And God loves you more. He has big plans for you.'
He goes back to watching ABC Kids, quietly playing with the scar on his chest.
I sit there in silence. A million thoughts race through my head but one was most clear.
I would love to have put a professional medical practitioner in my place just now, so that my son can lay a hand on their leg and tell them.
You wanted to die me.
I wonder if it would make a difference to the need for this abhorrent 'choice' in pregnancy. I wonder if those poor parents that lost their babies this week would have gone along with the advice they were given, if they could spend a day with my son, and take a few steps in our shoes. I don't pretend to know the circumstance surrounding the loss of two little lives this week. I pray for their everyone involved, that they would receive mercy from God, and that they would know his forgiveness. Read the story here.
What I do know is that it makes me even more passionate to reach who ever I can and tell them that there is always hope, God keeps his promises, and every life is precious no matter how long it is lived.
Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.(1 Cor 13:7)