SATURDAY, October 23, 2010
"It's okay; go on over." The deathscorts were at bay as God allowed a divine appointment with the facade of a hardened woman. Deathscorts tried to interrupt us, but we had protection. "Just give us ten minutes." Candy replied, "I'll have you know my mind's made up; I'm tough,.." but she agreed to come inside the ultrasound van. She had to walk through the groups of prayer warriors who were signaled to "pray harder" at the possibility that we may save a baby scheduled to die this day.
Once inside, she kept up the front of being a self-made woman, making it on her own, raising two daughters already, and no man in sight; the government is not the "daddy" as most are, plus she is holding down a job. "Let's see how far along you are." "I already know," she said as she lay prone, twelve weeks. We scanned. There, an approx 12.3 week old baby appeared with his hand up by his mouth. "We may have a thumbsucker." "Thumb-sucking is not allowed," she answered.
She heard the heartbeats, 142 per minute; our guestimation was "a boy" but will be confirmed with her physician. We went over resources and mentors we could help with. "Just ask," we told her. She then began opening up a little and shared how she has no support, and never did, from her family and didn't depend on anyone. She doesn't trust anyone, especially after the abuse she and her daughters have been through with a former husband, which would explain why she doesn't like hugs. "It's okay Candy. I've been there; I know how it feels to survive that kind of abuse. That is why you don't like touching. I understand." We were exacerbated, running out of words. I asked her, "After seeing your little boy, are you still going to go in there and go through with his execution?" Her face was poker straight, and she asked, "Why do you say it that way?" "Because it's the truth of what the abortion mill is going to do to your child. He doesn't get a trial or jury; he won't get any pain medication, but you will." The van was quiet. When our words failed, "Let's pray," and we did.
I then looked up and said, "I've done all I can do inside here. What are we going to do?" She began sitting up, and for the first time I noticed tears in her eyes.Tears! They fell to her cheeks. She softly announced, "Well, I won't be going in there." I sat next to her as she wiped the tears, and I patted her leg, "It's okay." We took a few breaths. "I know you are not a huggy person, so I won't hug you, but could I please buy you breakfast?" We then exited the van. As I extended my hand out to her,and helped her down the steps, she grabbed it and asked my name again. "Angela," I answered. She replied, "Thank you Miss Angela. Yes, I will accept breakfast."