“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.”
When I recently told a non-believer that abortion is murder, he said “that only depends on how you define murder.”
They way I see it, playing around with the definition of murder to justify abortion is moral relativism in its purest form, especially when everyone “knows” what murder is.
Of course people can say a baby is only a clump of cells, fetus, or product of conception so inserting scissors in the base of it’s skull and vacuuming it out of the womb isn’t “technically” murder.
And sure people can “maximize utility” as one ethical regimen suggests by saying the mother benefits more by not having a baby she doesn’t want and/or can’t afford so…
But what happens when the reality of what abortion objectively is weighs on the soul?
Ever wonder what former abortionists think?
“Even now I feel a little peculiar about it, because as a physician I was trained to conserve life, and here I am destroying it.”
–Dr. Benjamin Kalish
“We know that it’s killing, but the state permits killing under certain circumstances.”
–Dr. Neville Sender
“In one room, you encourage the patient that the slight irregularity in the fetal heart is not important, that she is going to have a fine, healthy baby. Then, in the next room you assure another woman, on whom you just did a saline abortion, that it is a good thing that the heartbeat is already irregular . . . she will not have a live baby.”
–Dr. John Szenes
“After twenty weeks, where it frankly is a child to me, I really agonize over it because the potential is so imminently there.”
–Dr. James McMahon
“Extracting a fetus, piece by piece, was bad for my sleep. Depression clouded my office on days when I had an abortion scheduled. My pulse raced after giving the local anesthetic. Although I still felt sorry for the unmarried 20-year-old college junior, I felt increasing anger toward the married couples who requested abortions because a law firm partnership was imminent, or house remodeling was incomplete, or even because summer travel tickets were paid for.
Anxiety attacks, complete with nausea, palpitations and dizziness, began to strike me in some social situations. In public, I felt I was on trial, or perhaps should have been. I no longer was proud to be a physician. Arriving home from work to the embrace of my kids, I felt undeserving that God had blessed me with their smiling faces. The morning shave became an ordeal, as I stared at the sad face in the mirror and wondered how all those awards and diplomas had produced an Angel of death.”
– Dr. George Flesh