Pro-life Reflections on Mother’s Day

By Dave Andrusko
National Right to Life

As everyone knows it’s only two more days to Mother’s Day. But if you are a pro-abortionist of a certain stripe who reads NRL News Today posts (and there are more than you think who take a peek), just a mention is enough to infuriate you.

Why? There are probably a hundred reasons—or 59 million. What I do know for sure is that when we celebrate (a word that will make their teeth grind) what our moms have done for us, to many pro-abortionists this is code for “keeping women in their place.”

Even worse (and I do mean worse) they believe to talk about sacrifice serves no purpose other than to limit women, to contract their horizons, to insist that a woman who is not a mother is “defective” (as hyperventilating pro-abortionists often put it). That this bears no resemblance to anything and is more a reflection their own insecurities than anything we have done (or could do) is just more evidence we “don’t get it.”

If I may, I’d like to say a few things about mothers and Mother’s Day, starting with my own mom who died much too young.

She was the oldest of twelve (11 girls and one boy!) and she and her siblings grew up during the depression. Times were very, very tough. Eviction was a constant threat.

My mom gave up a lot to help raise her siblings. Her own mother was widowed at an early age and my mom gave up the chance to go to college to help keep the family together. She sacrificed for us—my six siblings and me. She never complained even though, financially, we often lived on the brink.

My mom taught me how to be a parent. If I am 1/10 as good, I will consider myself a huge success.

Abortion was (as they say) not an issue as the Andrusko kids were growing up. We did have an unplanned teenage pregnancy among my cousins. I was never prouder of my dad than I was for the encouragement and support and love he showered on her.

As I reflect back on the previous two sentences, I realize I was watching…and learning…and internalizing an attitude toward crisis pregnancies and our obligation to help. My dad was unintentionally modeling behavior which I absorbed unsuspectingly.

Likewise to the reality of unborn life. It’s now been over 50 years, but I remember like it was yesterday when my mother asked me to place my hand on her stomach.

I felt my youngest brother move! I’m not sure there ever could have been a chance that I would accidentally wander into the “pro-choice” camp, but there surely was none after that revelation.

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