To read this story from the beginning click here: Part 1 

The conclusion of Noah’s birth along with The Hard Letter video:

The  Hard Letter

As you read the following letter know that I understand that not all women feel what I have written about the abortion experience. Some claim to be thankful for their abortion, saying as Cecile Richards it “wasn’t a difficult decision” or they do not regret it.

But this difficult letter comes out of the testimonies of the women I know personally.The ones who were brave enough to share their loss with me.

I also understand that you are a hero to the other side.

You are celebrated as an abortion provider. I cannot imagine what you would face or give up if you choose to accept the message I bring to you. It would be difficult at the very least. But it is possible, and I know people who could help. Please hear me out, and please remember that I wrote all that I wrote because care.

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Dear Doctor ——,

I know you are not a doctor who concerns himself with heart problems.

I just want you to know about mine.

My heart aches.

It aches all the time, and it aches for you.

 

It hurts because I know for so long now you have spent your days,

Day after day,

Doing your work.

 

You come into the room and there she is,

A mother,

Laying down on your table,

So vulnerable.

 

You pick up your tools and proceed as planned,

Like you always do.

 

This is the agreed upon arrangement.

Working expertly with your tools,

You forge a path to her tightly closed womb.

 

You can sense her fear,

You can feel the pain,

And you always see the tears.

 

Your hands once again cause a river of blood.

Where her tiny one lives… you enter.

Your hands move again like good soldiers in this violence of choice.

 

There are two hearts beating before you,

And in a moment only one … the other crushed.

 

One left,

Empty.

Emptied of something so sacred,

So precious,

Someone … her baby,

Gone forever.

 

Yet you continue on.

 

I have thought long and hard about your hands.

Oh my heart, how it hurts because of your hands.

Your hands must ache with the weight of death.

 

Those hands, your hands,

Created to protect life,

Yet day after day you assemble pieces of the broken little babies,

So many babies,

 

Counting every one,

To make sure you did not leave a single piece behind.

Always two tiny hands, two tiny feet, a little sunken face.

Each time you fill out your paper work,

You sign your name … and it’s over,

 

But it’s never really over.

Because your days are filled with death, your mind is filled with memories.

They come flooding in uninvited,

Unwanted,

Awake or asleep, you are their captive,

Yet you continue on.

 

But Doctor,

The babies are crying and you won’t hear them.

You shut them out, you silence their pleas,

You put them away … so you can go on living.

But you are not living because death surrounds you.

 

My heart cannot help but ache for your eyes,

Intelligent and unflinching,

Eyes that can see but cannot perceive.

Her tears do not pour out for the pain of it.

She is a woman and she loves her child! 

She cries tears of abandonment,

Tears of regret,

Tears for her baby,

Tears because you did not tell her that this was something she did not have to do.

You did not help her.

She cries because you are hurting her … and it’s too late to change her mind.

Your eyes refuse to see the reason for her precious tears.

 

If all these words are like meaningless ramble on a page to you,

 

If your heart is so hard,

If your hands do not ache,

If your eyes still cannot see,

If your dreams hold peace,

 

If the nightmare of your waking hours does not move you,

 

Then my friend,

My heart aches for you all the more,

Because you do not know what love is.

 

This is what love is.

 

Over two thousand years ago He entered our world.

He poured out his life so we could have peace with God.

 

“He was pierced for our transgressions,

He was crushed for our iniquities,

The punishment that brought us peace was upon Him,

And by His stripes we are healed.”

 

You see, “We all like sheep have gone astray,

Each of us have turned to our own way,

And the Lord has laid on Him the sins of us all.”

 

How I love Him.

 

Jesus.

 

He rescued me when I was trapped and wounded in a thicket of my own rebellion and grief.

I cried out to him and he came running.

It was his love that changed me. His forgiveness has restored peace to my soul.

I am not the only lamb who has been caught up in a thicket.

 

He made my heart ache for you.

Jesus is calling to you Doctor !

Put down your instruments of death!

He died so you wouldn’t have to kill.

He lives to lead you in the path of LIFE.

He can fill you with a hope and a future.

He will forgive you and wash away the river of blood that stains your conscience and make you white as snow,

Because he loves you.

It’s not too late.

Cry out! He will hear you.

Tomorrow can be different from today.

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I am resting now with Noah Cedric, and remembering you in prayer. I will return once a week as soon as I recover from delivery. May God grant you every good thing and bless you and your family exceedingly and abundantly beyond what we hope and pray for.

Love in Christ,

Melissa

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There will be one more entry to this story coming soon. The third letter that was sent out and returned to me unopened.