I Call Him Stephen

Eva Andrade, President


After watching the gruesome video (#7) released by the Center for Medical Progress, I wept.

I wept for the women and men who could callously discuss the brains, hearts and livers of little babies without remorse.

I wept for the politicians who will fight you tooth and nail for the right of Planned Parenthood to do business across the country, the right of women to make their own personal choices regarding abortion, and the right of the government to force each of us pay for these procedures. They will, however, ignore the tiny limbs, fully formed, on the petri dish.

I wept for the mothers out there who struggle with the decision on whether or not to terminate their pregnancies. I know in many cases their pain is very real.

I wept for the pastor who came out in support of Planned Parenthood because they do so many other “services” in the community.

I wept for people who believe that Planned Parenthoods efforts regarding aborted babies are for research purposes and the greater good. One lady told me that “at least something positive is being done with the unwanted fetuses.” (I remember learning that Hitler said very similar things about his experiments on the Jewish people.)

And then I wept for him. The tiny male child whose face was split in half so that the doctor could get to his brain. This little boy who was formed in his mother’s womb had no idea that his little life would be displayed across media platforms.

He had no idea that when his mother and father came together and created him, he would become for me, a matryr for life. And so, I named him Stephen. I will give him life in my memory because he was created by God with value and purpose.

And then I wept for the little one (possibly Stephen) who was resuscitated, because it was “cool.” “And she taps the heart and it starts beating.” (@4:26)

My little Stephen. Holly O’Donnell (the technician) held him in her hand (@9:01) while everyone else was “busy” and started crying while she opened the lid to discard of his little body. She goes on to describe her sorrow at what could have been.

Dear Lord, little Stephen never knew the touch of love until after his death. I know sweet Jesus, that you are loving him greatly right now.

I realize that there are people who will disagree with me and roll their eyes at this deep sorrow I am describing. Some will scoff at my naming of this little boy. That’s okay. I am not doing this for them. I am doing it for Stephen and all the babies like him that are callously tossed aside like yesterday’s leftovers.

Stephen is carved forever on the palm of God’s hand. (Isaiah 49:16) He was knit together in his mother’s womb (Psalm 139:13). All the days of his life were written in the book and now he is memorialized in this small article.

Dear little Stephen, may you rest eternally in the hands of our Loving Father and my God have mercy on our souls.