“This daughter is sacred of God. This child is destined for great good.”
Cindy Speltz, pro-life activist, who kept her child after conceiving through rape*
I like a good debate; in fact, I encourage them among my social studies students, so they’ll know how to handle themselves when life makes them take a stand on things. But I’m also glad I sent Emma and the boys home. This conversational thread is getting pretty heavy, even for me.
When the third woman asks if she can join in, I don’t know what to expect. Part of me wants to throw support to the pro-lifer, especially if this new lady is gonna jump on Sarah’s bandwagon. On the other hand, Helen’s doing a pretty good job making her case, and I’m not sure I have any better arguments to offer. So, like a mannequin in a store window, I stay silent.
Helen doesn’t seem to be thrown off balance by the newcomer. On the contrary, she smiles and says, “Sure. Of course. I’m Helen and this is Sarah. What are your thoughts on what we’ve been talking about?”
“Well, hi. Thanks. My name is Kathy,” she begins in a voice that’s soft but carries conviction. “I’ve been listening to your conversation and felt I had something to add because, well, you see, I have first hand information about what you’re talking about. Have you ever heard of Cindy Speltz?”
Sarah and Helen shake their heads. I’m not familiar with the name, either.
“OK, well, this is a woman who was raped in the ’70’s, shortly after the Supreme Court legalized abortion. She became pregnant as a result of the rape. I just heard her and her daughter speak on…”
At this point, Kathy mentions the name of a faith-based television network that I always studiously avoid when channel surfing. Still, I make a mental note to later check out their website and see if I can verify her story.
I’ve been trying to stay just far enough away that it doesn’t seem like I’m eavesdropping – although that’s pretty much what I am doing. I hope my face doesn’t register my reaction to Kathy’s words. I’m a mix of skeptical and outrageously curious. It’s like a car wreck that I can’t help craning my neck to see.
I look at the faces of the two women she’s speaking to. That’s a little trick I’ve picked up from all my years in the classroom. I do face checks once in awhile while I’m teaching, to see if I’m losing my audience. Helen’s holds rapt attention. Sarah’s mirrors mine.
Kathy pays no attention to any of our expressions. She merely continues.
“As I said, this was a couple years after abortion became legal, and Cindy’s family and friends strongly believed she should have one. Just about everyone thought she’d be better off going that route because she was young and had no money, and her family sounds like it was very dysfunctional. It sounds like poor Cindy was more or less expected to raise her younger siblings. Her mother had died, and her dad was a heavy drinker.When he found out she was pregnant, he made her leave home, even though she swore it wasn’t her fault.
“So there she was, out on the streets with no job, barely a high school education, and nowhere to turn. The saddest thing was, it sounds like poor Cindy had no frame of reference for how a man should treat a woman, since her father had been abusive and neglectful her whole life. I guess she was so mixed up about acceptable behavior that she didn’t even realize she could press charges against the man who raped her! So she never even reported it. Can you believe that?”
It seems like a rhetorical question, so no one answers. Still, Kathy waits a few seconds, then charges ahead.
“Well, OK. I don’t want to belabor the story with every little detail. What I really want to get at is the decision Cindy made, which was to keep her baby, and why she says she’s glad she did.”
I glance at Sarah to see if this has turned her off. To her credit, she’s still politely listening, and even looks interested.
“Well, anyway, a friend’s parents let her sleep on their couch while she tried to come up with a plan. She didn’t want to abort her baby, but there didn’t seem to be any other options. No one wanted to help her raise this inconvenient, un-asked for child. She was on the couch one night, crying, trying not to be overheard by the other people in the house. It was an apartment, actually, so there wasn’t much privacy. Oh, well, I guess those details don’t matter. Sorry, I’m terrible at telling stories.
“Suddenly, while the moonlight spilled into the room, Cindy swears she could hear a voice, not of anyone she knew, just a voice.”
A siren sounds in the distance, causing Kathy to interrupt her reverie. Helen wears a spellbound expression, while Sarah’s face is now a harder read. Being the only guy in this picture, I somehow feel apologetic. I continue trying to stay invisible.
When the screeching of the siren dims, Helen prods Kathy.
“What did the voice say?”
“Well, let me see if I can get this right,” Kathy answers, hesitating. She appears to be searching her memory for the right quote. After a brief pause, she resumes.
“It said something like, ‘This daughter is sacred and of God. This child is destined for great good!’”
She pauses again to let this sink in.
“Wow!” Helen says with amazement.
“Wow,” Sarah echoes, but in a much different way.
“‘Wow’ is right!” Kathy gushes. “Well, Cindy didn’t know much about religion or have much of a faith background, but she couldn’t ignore that experience. The long and the short of it is, she followed what the voice seemed to be telling her, and kept the baby. Her daughter’s name is, lemme see, oh, what was it?”
Sarah picks up her sign and says, “Never mind. That’s a lovely story, but –”
Sarah picks up her sign and says, “Never mind. That’s a lovely story, but –”
“Oh, it was Jenni!” Kathy squeals, like a kid who just found a prize at the bottom of a cereal box. “That’s right! Jennifer! And this is the part where the daughter starts weighing in on the program. Do you have just another couple of minutes for me to finish the story? I promise, I’ll make it brief.”
Sarah puts down her sign and nods. Good for her. I gotta give credit where credit is due. She may not be buying Kathy’s spiel, but at least she’s got the courtesy to listen.
Kathy continues.
“So, Jenni says, ‘Things weren’t easy for Mom and me, but somehow we always had a roof over our heads and enough to eat. There were a lot of hard times, but somehow we made it. And you know what? I like to think that that voice Mom heard was right: that I did come from God, and that I do have the potential to do great good. That’s why she and I have told our story so many times to so many people!’”
Kathy looks expectantly at her audience.
“Well, that’s really wonderful,” Sarah says with sincerity, “and I’m truly glad their situation worked out so well. But we do have to realize that not every woman in that position would have that same kind of experience. Many rape victims really want to put the past behind them and –”
Kathy interrupts Sarah with an enthusiastic barrage of words.
“You’re so right, Sarah!” she chirps. “Thank you so much for reminding me! There’s one last, important piece I forgot to mention. See, this is why I don’t tell stories! Cindy goes on to add that she worked at a pregnancy center for many years. And here’s what she told every expectant mom – and a few of them had been raped – who came into that place. Now, let me get this right. Oh, if I had a brain, I’d be dangerous. I think she’d say with a gentle look and a hand on their shoulder, she’d say, ‘The worst is behind you. How can I help you now?’
“You see, Sarah, that’s what so many women in crisis need to hear. Whether they’ve been thrown out of their homes, or abandoned by their baby’s father, or assaulted like this poor woman was. Even if they’re just considering an abortion because they don’t feel ready for the responsibility of having a child. They need to hear that ending their child’s life won’t end their pain. It’ll make it worse. They need to hear that carrying a baby for nine months is nothing compared to living the rest of their lives with the knowledge that they destroyed the greatest gift they ever received. And they need to hear they have other choices besides ending the pregnancy, and that there’s help to be had. Do you see what I’m saying?”
Helen nods vigorously and chimes in with, “They need to hear it’s not OK to criminalize their innocent babies!”
Kathy locks eyes with Helen and says with compassion, “Careful, dear. We’re in agreement, but how we say things is almost as important as what we say. These poor women and girls aren’t trying to treat their unborn children like criminals. They’re just trying to find a quick solution. Isn’t that really one of the major problems of modern life? We all have such trouble living with discomfort; we’re uncomfortable just being uncomfortable! So we look for the fastest way to get rid of our discomfort, and sometimes the escape we choose ends up owning us.”
She looks straight at Sarah.
“May I say one more thing to you, dear?”
Without waiting for Sarah to answer, she forges ahead.
“You’ve been so gracious with your time and attention. The daughter, Jenni, said when she was in high school, she got into a conversation with a classmate about abortion. Her friend took the position that abortion is unpleasant but has to be kept legal for cases of rape and incest. This girl didn’t know the circumstances of Jenni’s birth. Jenni was able to say, ‘I am the reason you’re talking about! If my mom had followed your logic, I wouldn’t be here!’
“Well, you can imagine her friend didn’t know what to say. It’s one thing to hold an opinion, but, you know, it’s something else when you’re looking right into the eyes of someone whose very existence was threatened by that opinion.
“Alright, enough of my rambling. My goal in speaking with you today – and I thank you both for letting me join your conversation – was simply to dispel the notion that victims get better by victimizing others. I hope I’ve made sense, and that you’ll consider the possibility that other unplanned babies, not just Cindy Speltz’s baby, may be ‘destined for great good’ also.”
Without another word, Kathy picks up her sign and melts back into the crowd.
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