When It's Okay To Kill Americans

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When It’s Okay To Kill Americans
by Linda A. Prussen-Razzano

January 18 , 2002

CO-COLUMN OF THE DAY!!

"Candidly Yours"

Linda A. Prussen-Razzano It started as a trickle. Believing it to be the highly embarrassing but nonetheless harmless side-effect of having my unborn child sit on my bladder, I hastened for the bathroom. Just a few short steps later, the trickle escalated into a cascade, liquid gushing down my legs. It can’t be my water breaking, I reasoned; Skylar wasn’t due for another two months.

Sadly, I was right.

The dark streaks weren’t amniotic fluid or urine, they were blood. I did not fully understand the gravity of the situation but instinctually recognized that something had gone terribly wrong. I was whisked via ambulance to Baylor Medical Center in Irving where my physician, Dr. Van Duyne, performed a preliminary evaluation. When he spoke, his voice was suspiciously devoid of its usual carefree tone. "I want her on the table in 15 minutes."

Then I knew.

I gulped back the suffocating ache creeping into my throat. "It’s too soon! She’s not big enough," I insisted, as if the words alone would stop my hemorrhaging. Grief and fear dueled for prominence in my mind: grief that my body was failing her after we had come so far together, and fear that she wouldn’t survive. I knew we were in experienced, professional hands, but her ultimate fate rested in a power far greater than any present in the room.

I begged for Jesus to save my baby.

Thankfully, it was His will that she live.

I caught only the quickest glance of her before they rushed her to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Baylor in Grapevine. In the frenzied, agonizing days that followed, my husband and I juggled my toddling son between neighbors so we could spend time with her. Ever-patient and supportive nurses came to know my voice over the phone, as I called at all hours to check on her condition. Each bit of progress, no matter how small, was cause for celebration.

She was so tiny, so very tiny, with perfect little limbs, long, tapered fingers, and precious monkey toes. Her cry was no stronger than a kitten’s meow, but her spirit was undaunted. Not surprisingly, her progress increased exponentially when I was finally able to hold her, flesh to flesh, my cheek nestled lovingly against the top of her head, her cheek against my chest over my heart. I promised her that when the tubes, needles, and monitors were finally gone, her life outside that room would be filled with comfort and love.

There were several other premature babies in the NICU with her; some bigger, some smaller. Once people learned we had a "preemie," we were flooded with stories of other premature babies and their sometimes-miraculous survivals. Babies weighing just a fraction over 2 lbs. somehow made it, growing into hardy adults. Babies born up to three months premature fought valiantly to live, and won.

It was not until this week, when a telemarketer called for my opinions on a rather lengthy political survey, did I start to think about politics again. I was too busy trying to enjoy the miracle of my children, to heal from my surgery, and to patch my fractured life back together. I woke from my maternal fog to realize that the arrival of the New Year also ushered in a resurgence of the same silly, contentious, non-constructive battles that existed prior to September 11, 2001.

What a shame.

I had hoped, perhaps vainly, that America’s outrage over the senseless murder of so many innocent people would prompt folks to renew, and hold a touch dearer, the value of a human life. I had hoped that respect for the fragility of life, and the need to protect it, would extend to those most fragile at the beginning of their lives. Unfortunately, many people can still philosophically differentiate between the innocents who died in that monstrous destruction, their ashes and body parts strewn throughout the streets, and the equally innocent babies whose body parts are neatly stored in white plastic bins for tidy sale or disposal.

There is only one difference between the 2 lb. "preemie" that parents boast of and the 2 lb. baby that is sucked out of the womb through a vacuum and scooped into a bin: the latter was deemed inconsequential.

And while America rightly wept for the victims of September 11, a good portion of Americans ignore the brutal fact that an almost equal number of unborn children also died that same day…as they do every day, the figure exceeding a staggering 1,000,000 a year.

There was a time when Americans had a right to "life," inherent by sheer virtue of their humanity. There was a time when this truth was "self-evident," a founding principal upon which a new form of government, and a nation, would eventually be built. For a brief time, at least, it seemed to me Americans had remembered this, embraced it, were comforted by it.

Sadly, I was wrong. ***

Photo of Linda Prussen-Razzano courtesy of staff files