Consider this scenario for me please: A woman in her late thirties finds herself with an unplanned pregnancy. The details surrounding her situation are sketchy. She does not choose to keep this baby for reasons that are only hers to know. And not ours to judge. The known facts are that is she is in this country illegally, has no money, no health insurance, an unplanned womb occupant, and has had no prenatal care. Not an easy situation for anyone to be in.
At twenty-four to twenty-five weeks gestation the baby is delivered by emergency c-section. The third trimester begins in week 28. This baby…. aborted fetus…. you get the picture. Eyes fused shut, skin so delicate that he can’t be touched by human hands without harming him, APGAR score is 2 (TWO) and by 5 minutes is all the way up to 4 (FOUR). If you are a little vague on the meaning of APGAR scores, google it. This baby was in deep deep trouble. Weight was 1 pound and 10 ounces and he was about a foot long.
Imagine you are in that surgical suite looking at this fragile tiny piece of humanity who for all practical purposes is about to leave this world without immediate medical intervention and even then…..?? There is no insurance, there is no money to pay for heroic medical intervention or even a baby aspirin.
But decisions were made and this baby was quickly transported 150 miles by medical helicopter to a NICU. Whisked away from a womb that couldn’t keep him, struggling to survive, needing a miracle in the worst way….. even though he had no one with him at the time who called him their own. No one. Alone. I have to wonder if the doctors and emergency personnel on board that helicopter had at least a fleeting thought that this trip was not going to end well, if the phrase “waste of time” entered their minds, if the fact that the cost of saving this life was going to be astronomical and there was no one to pay for it except the taxpayer dollar. I hope not, but I can’t help but wonder what went through their minds on that late-night trip.
In the course of the next three months of his life, the little fellow had blood transfusions, pneumonia, brain bleeds, possible seizure activity and all the other routine experiences of an extreme preemie. He avoided any surgeries, and his little heart….. was very healthy and strong. His little heart wasn’t aware that he had no visitors. No one called to inquire about his well-being. No pictures were taken of him because…. ???? no one wanted pictures of him. But I would never ever say no one wanted him. I would never ever say that any baby is unwanted.
After three months of life in the NICU the birth mom officially relinquished her parental rights. That’s where the story begins for my youngest grandson. He went from a near-abortion type experience to being a cherished and adored member of our family. Adoption — it’s a beautiful thing. If you’re my facebook friend you’ve seen pictures of him with his parents. (yes, I know, MANY pictures of him) His parents’ happiness oozes out of those pictures. His happiness does, too. He’s approaching two years of age now and developmentally right on target. He is a little miracle. I thank God that his little life was spared. And I thank God that in that surgical suite almost two years ago….. I can’t even go there without getting teary-eyed. Many details are unknown to me about the day of my grandson’s birth, but I do know that someone did the right thing, made the right decision, and I am deeply grateful.