The following is a story of the humble beginnings of my son Nicholas and I. We thank God daily for the Pro-Lifers who were present in body, mind, spirit, and prayer so the life of my only son was spared.
As a young woman, abandoned at the church altar after seven years of engagement, and with a child in the womb, I was fearful of telling angry parents, displeased that their eldest daughter was the first in the family tree to become pregnant out of wedlock.
Three turmoil-filled weeks later, the father of the baby returned to escort me to the abortion clinic. After sitting through a slide show of how my child would be suctioned out of my body to end this "untimely pregnancy," I was assigned the state-mandated "professional counseling." The clinic worker asked if my family could help me with the pregnancy, then if the father of the baby might. After only those two questions, she closed my folder, sighed, and said, "Well, it's decided then."
In the waiting room, two giggling girls laughed at their simultaneous abortions after their simultaneous one-night stands. As I looked around, I saw a middle aged woman, looking miserable, and several college-age mothers whose boyfriends didn't even bother to show up. I stared, stricken, into the eyes of a Chinese couple, as a wicked arm slid across my own shoulders and a voice whispered, "I don't know what a couple like us is doing in a place like this."
Quietly, heads held low, the mothers were called up to the desk for the privilege of paying Planned Parenthood to kill our children. Suddenly startled, I asked, "What's that there, on top of my file?"
The cashier quickly hid my ultrasound from sight. "Wait! I saw a head, little arms, and little legs!"
The check had been taken, and all the woman said was, "Go back to your seat now, dear, and wait for your name to be called."
I returned to the father and pleaded, "This is not right. I saw the baby. We must find a way to work this out. We must leave this place!"
His only reply was: "I can't."
Again, the clinic workers began shuffling the group of mothers into individual bathroom stalls, an eerie reminder of junior high days, in simpler times than these. Dressed in our hospital gowns, we were shown to the abortionist's "Procedure Room." I slowly slid onto the cold metal table, next to a silver tray perfectly lined with sharp polished knives of every shape and size.
A craggy woman hobbled into the room. With a voice as cold as ice, she said, "The doctor will be here in five minutes. Be ready!" That was the extent of my "doctor-patient consultation."
But wait! The faith-filled are in prayer, in adoration chapels, in nursing homes, in Catholic Churches: Christians are praying even at these gates of Hell. Men and women kneel with reverence, raising rosaries and their hands to Heaven: "Save the unborn! Save them, God!"
Courageous Christian women are working in a flurry, in offices, on computers, budgeting pro-life funds, recruiting professional counselors with master's degrees. Archbishops, bishops, monsignors, priests, brothers, and deacons are untiringly proclaiming life from the pulpit. Sisters are serving God's most vulnerable in maternity homes and in foster care. Donors give monetary gifts and grandmothers are providing baby layettes, complete with mini-crocheted afghans. Real men, strong men, are marching in pro-life pilgrimages, building pregnancy shelters and telling their daughters, "I love you. Always come to me in an emergency."
One single client and her baby slipped away that day.
I tore off the hospital gown, dressed, and rushed to take that first unforgettable step out of the abortion clinic. I'd be mother and father to this special baby boy.
Six staff members surrounded me and asked, "Where will you go? What will you do?"
I turned my head over my shoulder as I ran out the door, "I don't know -- but this, this I know is wrong!"
Barely audible in the background, a nurse whispered, "She could go to Birthright."
Thank you to the beautiful Christian women who continue to walk steadfast in Christ's steps, yet bend down to pick up the less fortunate along the way. It is up to us to spread our pro-life beliefs at every opportunity. We know there are countless more rosaries to be prayed. We must always, in every way, strive to do more for the pro-life cause in service to our God.
God Bless your families and your children and may He keep them safe and protected always!
Jillian & Nicholas Stojeba
Missionaries of Life