The Trash Babies

Last week, I had an opportunity to head down to Ground Zero for a late evening shift.  During the evening time slots, I like to go over to the other side of the street – just outside of Hell’s entrance – to pray.  After saying one decade of the Rosary, I made my way towards the entrance to the abortuary and started to pray.  During this particular night, there was a pile of garbage bags just outside of the Abortion Mill.  I guess it was garbage night for the Mill. As I was praying, my mind wandered a bit and my gaze eventually fell on those garbage bags.   Normally, garbage would not be that remarkable, but in the context of the grizzly act of abortion and our vigil campaign, it could not help but take on an added level of significance for me.

Where, I wondered, do the “doctors” at the Mill deposit unborn children for “disposal”?  Are they burned in some incinerator somewhere?  Or are they simply added to the regular “medical waste” pile? Who picks them up?  Is there a company that specializes in disposing of aborted babies?   Do the Mill workers deposit the little bodies in some kind of  “industrial, medical garbage bag”, and let the collectors in from the back door? Have back alley abortions been replaced with back alley disposals.

Or, is it more lucrative than that?  We know there are big dollars in the abortion business.  According to research by the paper Le Droit in 2002, Morgentaler has grossed an estimated $11 million a year from his private, for-profit abortion facilities across the country.   I wonder how much the one on Bank Street scrapes in?  And that’s only on the front end. What about on the back end?  Are there buyers for unborn children’s organs or baby parts?  It’s not implausible considering the current state of embroyonic stem cell research.  I’m sure that if it’s not happening now, it could very well happen in the future.  It’s an emerging market, you know. 

As I sat there gazing at those garbage bags, and waves of grief and disgust blew over me, I wondered about the expression on their little faces as they were murdered.  The horror…the pain…the sadness.  What is it like, I wonder, to be unwanted and unloved to such a degree that someone wants to kill you while someone else profits from it?  Our elderly people will soon be finding out when euthanasia is legalized, no doubt. And even when the abortionists do it, they don’t afford you even the slightest human dignity, as your sacred little body is carted off like some piece of garbage, thrown to the curb, to await your final trip to the dump or to the incinerator or to some labratory or to God knows where. 

But you are not garbage, even if they treat you like you are.  As long as we witness to your dignity and worth, little one, they will never be able to completely erase your humanity or your personhood.  They’ll forget you, but we never will.

These 40 Days is a small reminder to that.

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