Call me a dreamer, but I have awoken with a belief that true human equality should begin when a human’s measurable life begins, at conception. We can build a society that no longer obligates and encourages medical professionals to wield instruments to inflict death within a woman’s womb, by extending legal protection to the preborn, the hidden people group. Call me a dreamer, but I look expectantly for the day when we seek to gather and acknowledge all the tears. They speak louder than all my words and dreams could dare to. The tears help us find the courage to heal, the courage to reach out to all trapped by the lie that abortion is a solution. I will not be content to abandon a single soul captive to abortion. Call me a dreamer, but I believe that we can, and we will, begin to build a pro-love society—one choice at a time.
How I got this, I don’t even know. I inspect the foreign object. Horror grips me as I see what is mounted on the other side of the plaque in my hands. A baby's body, Dry and lifeless. I am looking at the misshapen face of a tiny human I will never forget, One who never once saw the light of day. Frozen, grimacing in agony. The final moments of her short life are written on her closed eyes and furrowed brow, telling me a story of injustice. I am broken. My heart sinking. There is no escape.