I hear the mermaids singing, each to each
My girls’ favourite past-time lately is to pretend they’re mermaids.
On a recent trip to the beach they took turns being buried in the sand as we created mermaid tails for them. And right now they’re playing in their kiddie pool, fighting over their mermaid names and making up mermaid songs. So, it’s with some sad irony that I write this post.
I’ve been watching a disturbing drama unfold over the last month with one of the dad bloggers that I follow. As bloggers and tweeters, we all decide how much of our selves and our personal lives we want to share online. Aaron Gouveia over at The Daddy Files is decidedly out there. So I read his recent waiting-room tweets with some personal discomfort as he shared the news, byte by byte, that there was something seriously wrong with his unborn baby. If I were going through this kind of ordeal, would I share it on Twitter? Probably not. In the end, though, I decided that while this wouldn’t be my approach, that this was Aaron’s community, and that his consistent approach, with the support of his wife and family, was to share his experiences, for better or worse, with that community.
When I returned from vacation, I had to check in and see how things had turned out. I was disturbed with what I learned.
It turns out that the baby was diagnosed with a rare and fatal congenital birth defect called Sirenomelia, also known as Mermaid Syndrome. The baby’s legs were fused together. The baby had no bladder, no kidneys and no chance of survival. They had to terminate the pregnancy, and the sooner the better for the health of Aaron’s wife. So, with the heaviest of hearts they travelled to the local health clinic.
Image via Wikipedia
Now, I don’t usually wear my faith on my sleeve in public forums, but I am a Christian, and while I fall miserably short, I try to live a life of compassion and grace. That’s what we’re called to do — and I don’t claim we have a monopoly on the idea. But often, the things we do in the name of faith leave me scratching my head to bleeding.
While this couple drove up to the clinic, they were confronted by anti-abortion activists who loudly condemned them for killing their unborn baby. Black and white. No context. No compassion. No grace. Only graphic placards, angry shouts, pointed fingers, and harsh judgement.
Aaron checked his wife into the clinic for the procecure, and then, in a contained-but-holy rage, he confronted the activists on camera with his personal circumstances. This was an opportunity for those ladies to recognize that they had caught this couple within the crossfire of their crusade, apologize, and out of respect, move on to reevaluate their approach. Instead, they dug in their heels in righteous indignation. To paraphrase: “Sure, your circumstances are different, but we’re not here for you. We’re here to stop all of those other people from killing their babies.”
Abortion is one of those polarizing issues that is impossible to write about without eliciting the vitriolic responses of both extremes. And I won’t enter the debate here. But I will say that too often, people of my faith are too prone to impose their angry judgement on others. We may not agree on when human life begins and whether, how and when it should begin to be protected, but regardless of the circumstances that lead to a terminated pregnancy, can’t we at least agree that everyone involved deserves sympathy, compassion, and grace?
If we’re going to fight about abortion, let’s do it in the board rooms and the court rooms. Let’s not do it in the waiting rooms.
To the Gouveia’s I offer my condolences for their precious little mermaid Alex and my heartfelt apologies on behalf of those misguided Christians who repeatedly choose anger over compassion.
- Image via Wikipedia
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Great post man. Well said.
Chris (@tessasdad)´s last blog ..Fatherhood Friday- Dear Tessa…
This was…well…just awesome. Even-handed, balanced and heartfelt. Thank you so much. Spectacular writing.