What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

I read this article on a blog last week. I thought it was a good read and wanted to share it here.


What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?
by Vanessa Harris

Partial-birth abortion is a controversial subject in our society today. The topic of partial-birth abortion can spark heated arguments on the Senate floor, in the workplace, to the Pro-Life and Pro-Choice groups. I believe to get a clear understanding of what partial-birth abortion is it should be seen from the baby’s viewpoint.

My name is Baby Jane; I was conceived through a one-night stand. My mother, who is a very successful businesswoman, started a small business in lower Manhattan that just recently expanded. My father is someone my mother knew briefly before my conception.

Before my mother knows I exist, I am already eighteen days old, my heart is formed, and my eyes are beginning to develop. At two months, my mother has not seen her menstrual period, and makes an appointment with the doctor. By this time I am well proportioned, being 1 1/8” long and weighing 1/30th oz. All my organs are present, and my heart is beating sturdily. My stomach produces digestive juices and my liver is making blood cells, even my little kidneys begin to function, while my taste buds are being formed.

After my mother discovers she is pregnant, she goes home despondent. The next few weeks are a whirlwind. She cannot locate my father and the real problem is her business. What will she do? Who can she trust to run it? She discusses her situation with close acquaintances. They have many solutions, but which one is right? The subject of abortion enters the conversation. Would this be an option?

I am now 4 months old, I have fingerprints, my eyelids and palms are sensitive to touch, and I can even suck my thumb, and have fingernails. I can kick, turn my feet, make a fist and even practice breathing. I can grasp a hand, swim, and turn somersaults. If I were born now I would not survive.

My mother has kept her monthly doctor appointments. I am 6 months now. Fine hair grows on my eyebrows and head. I have a chance of surviving at this age.

From the outside it seems that my mother has resolved her feelings about her pregnancy, but she is taking the advice of a close acquaintance, and is seeking information about abortion. She finds that there are many different types of abortions. One is the menstrual extraction method. This is a very early suction abortion, often done before the pregnancy test is positive. Another is the suction-aspiration method. In this method, the abortionist must paralyze the cervical opening and then stretch it to insert a hollow plastic tube with a knife-like edge on the tip that cuts the placenta from the inner wall of the uterus. The abortionist then proceeds to suck the baby’s body into pieces. This suction is 29 times more powerful than a home vacuum cleaner. Then there is the Dilatation and Curettage (D&C) method. This procedure is similar to the suction method except the abortionist inserts a curette, a loop-shaped steel knife, up into the uterus, and cuts the placenta and baby into pieces and scrapes them out into a basin. Hemorrhaging is usually profuse.

Because I’m now over 6 months old, the doctor and my mother choose partial-birth abortion. This is a breech-like delivery. The entire infant is delivered except the head. Scissors are jammed into the base of the skull, and a tube is inserted to suck the brains out. The dead infant is pulled out.

The appointment is scheduled and the day is set. I am 6 ½ months. My mother enters the hospital alone. Where are her acquaintances now? She is taken to her room, and given medication to ease her nerves. It is time for the abortion. My mother is prepared and wheeled into the operating room. Labor is induced. Once her uterus is dilated, the procedure is set into motion. I feel someone grabbing at my legs with forceps. It is not time for me to enter this world. I can her their voices. I can just make out my mother’s voice. I scream in my world, I am not ready. Nevertheless, I am pulled into the birth canal. I am delivered down to my head. What has happened? Why did they stop? Something is piercing the base of my skull. The pain is too much for me to bare. I scream and move to avoid the piercing, however; I am held in place. The person holding me is puncturing my skull, and opening the hole by opening the scissors. The scissors are removed. By this time I am losing blood and consciousness, I can barely feel the insertion of the suction catheter. As my brains are sucked out my last thoughts are, “Why? Why? Why did my mother allow this to happen to me? Didn’t she love me as I was being formed in her inward parts, or was I an inconvenience?” These questions will not be answered now. My skull has collapsed and I am removed lifeless.

There are no flowers for me, just a cold slab for my little body to lie on. How could this have been prevented? Not just to me, but the many other Baby Janes and Joes. What laws are there for my life to be preserved? There are laws to preserve the wildlife and the trees, and there are laws to save the sparrows, but my life is worth more than many sparrows. I could possess a hope and a future, nevertheless; the law allows such barbaric crime to be brought against me. Who will eventually stand for my rights? What government official or Supreme Court judge will be bold enough to go against the grain, and stop calling good evil and evil good?