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"Isaiah died with
dignity. Dignity means no one killed him and he wasn’t alone. His
momma’s arms were around him through the whole process."
Debbie Joslin lives in Delta Junction, Alaska with her husband and
four children. She is a home-schooling mom, a former National
Committeewoman for Alaska on the Republican National Committee. She
is also the President of Eagle Forum Alaska and of the Alaska Eagle
Forum Educational Foundation, media spokesman for Interior Right to
Life, and public member on the state Medical Board.Ronald Reagan
said, “I know that when the true issue of infanticide is placed
before the American people, with all the facts openly aired, we will
have no trouble deciding that a mentally or physically handicapped
baby has the same intrinsic worth and right to life as the rest of
us”.
In 1976, I exercised the right the Supreme Court had
handed me, and I aborted my unborn child. I did not want an
abortion. But like many women, I felt that I too had no choice. I
had no husband, no family I could go to, and no crisis pregnancy
center. But, my boyfriend had heard there was a place called Planned
Parenthood where we could rid ourselves of a problem. I did what was
expected of me. I was not forced. But like millions of other women,
I hoped to the last that someone would offer me another choice. It
never came and so I ended a life, my own child’s life. I found that
abortion didn’t offer me reproductive freedom. It brought
destruction, pain and regret and it robbed me of my child. The
promises abortion offered were all a lie and I know now that there
was a better choice.
by Debbie Joslin
The Worth of Isaiah
Women for Faith & Family
http://www.wf-f.org/06-1Isaiah.html |
In 1999 my son was given a prenatal diagnosis of “fetal anomalies
incompatible with life”. I was offered “choices”. I could’ve flown to
Wichita, Kansas and had Isaiah’s life taken by inducing labor. The
literature assured me I would deliver a dead infant. He would’ve been given
a fatal shot so he wouldn’t have to “endure the painful birthing process”.
How thoughtful! They’d even sell me a “miscarriage certificate”. I was given
another “choice. We could arrange to give birth and not offer intervention.
No, I didn’t like that either. Our choice rested in trusting God. If the
child’s condition was truly “incompatible with life”, God would take care of
when, where, and how he would die. Let God be God, the doctors could doctor
and I’d be a momma.
There’s only One who can judge the quality of a man’s life, short or long.
Isaiah had “quality of life”. Isaiah had two parents who loved him and
showered him with kisses and holding. He had a big brother and two sisters
who loved to hold him. His hospital visitors were so many the nurses scolded
us. Once home from his twelve-day hospital stay, his nursery was set up in
the living room near a sunny window. There he could feel the warmth of the
sun and see his visitors as they came to admire him and bring presents and
pray for him.
He was born the day after Mother’s Day. His 32-day life meant he never knew
what it was to be cold or experience winter. He liked to suck on his binky.
Some babies don’t, but momma’s little Binky Boy did. He was only able to
suck from a bottle maybe twice but oh, how he loved it! He sat in an infant
swing a few times next to the teddy bear his sissy gave him. Being held was
his favorite thing, especially by momma. A couple of his visitors said they
saw him smile. I didn’t, but I knew he felt happiness and contentment. The
oxygen saturation monitor allowed us to “see” how love can strengthen a
failing heart. While being held, his oxygen saturation would rise to 100
percent for a few moments as though there were no hole in his heart.
On his last full day, the oxygen saturation sank until at evening it hovered
at 65%. His big sissy, just turned five, asked to hold him one more time.
Emily held him close and kissed him and told him things five year olds tell
babies. Isaiah liked that! His oxygen saturation shot back up to 100 and
stayed there for several minutes. Later his daddy (some little boys don’t
have one you know) knelt down to whisper sweet daddy things to his little
boy and gently stroked his forehead. Oh, Isaiah liked that too! He loved his
daddy. His oxygen saturation shot to the top once more and the LED lights of
the machine glowed 100. We announced Isaiah was dying and might not be with
us past the night. Everyone cried and kissed the baby and told him good-bye.
Some people don’t have anyone to kiss them good-bye, but Isaiah did.
He made it through the night and was given another round of kisses and tears
and good-byes the next morning by his adoring siblings. The babysitter
arrived and scooted the children off so mommy and daddy could be alone with
their son for the last time.
Isaiah died that morning with dignity. Dignity means no one killed him and
he wasn’t alone. His momma’s arms were around him through the whole process.
Some babies don’t die with dignity. About fifty million babies have died
legally without dignity since January 22, 1973.
When will it stop?
Debbie Joslin joslin@wildak.net
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