"Beneficence towards the fetus"

I have been away from my blog on account of being mired in a lengthy discussion online about abortion.
One commenter argues that the fetus is a 'proto human' whose sole worth is in the eyes of parents as the "potential person" it will become. It has no intrinsic worth of it's own.

Because the conversation has had many twists and turns I didn't want to get too bogged down with the question of fetal pain, since, although horrendous this is not the crucial "wrong" of abortion.
Nonetheless, this commenter challenged me further on a reference I had made to the fetal awareness in utero.
I think it is safe to assume that abortion, for the sensate fetus, is a horrendous death.
He disagrees.
He linked to this paper here:
Fetal Pain: A Systematic Multidisciplinary Review of the Evidence
The conclusion of the report is as follows:

 "Evidence regarding the capacity for fetal pain is limited but indicates
that fetal perception of pain is unlikely before the third trimester. Little or no evidence
addresses the effectiveness of direct fetal anesthetic or analgesic techniques. Similarly,
limited or no data exist on the safety of such techniques for pregnant women in
the context of abortion. Anesthetic techniques currently used during fetal surgery are
not directly applicable to abortion procedures".

I was struck when reading the report that the language is ambivalent. Phrases like "pain is unlikely", "little or no evidence", "little or no data" are not the language of certainty.
And yet my interlocutor is confident that this report supports his contention that fetal pain is impossible.
If we were talking about any other human being than the unwanted unborn, wouldn't we be giving them the benefit of the doubt?
Wouldn't we be horrified at the merest possibility that any surgical procedure carried out on a born  fetus would cause them to feel pain?
This is how I responded to him:

The report you link to, which was put together in response to moves to legislate requiring physicians
to inform women seeking abortions that the fetus feels pain and to offer fetal anesthesia.

Small wonder that those same doctors with blood on their hands, whose work consists of dismembering the unborn, have chafed at the idea .

The report you link to is littered with caveats like "unlikely" or "possibly" or "little evidence as yet".,
Strange don't you think, that where the wanted get the benefit of the doubt, the unwanted get none.

I thought this passage very telling:

"...Instead, beneficence toward
the fetus represents the chief justification
for using fetal anesthesia or
analgesia during abortion—to relieve
suffering if fetal pain exists."

In the absence of crucial "beneficence" we can sweep away all doubt.

The baby who is not wanted can die and die violently.

The baby to whom we feel is owed  beneficence however, will get the benefit of the doubt regarding it's experience of pain.

This is why I stand in solidarity with the weakest members of our human family, against whom all,
from their parents and grandparents, to the medical establishment to the legal system, have shut their doors.

There is no "BENEFICENCE" toward them.

 Honor and Marie-Aibhlinn on the steps of the BPAS abortuary

A little post to be going on with

Colmcille made his first Holy Communion on the feast of Corpus Christi.
We actually were all very cheerful about it despite the above photo which looks as though it was taken after we'd been given some bad news.
I'm sure there are better photos, ones in which we look more perky and animated , but this  is all I have for now. It is one that a friend sent us since we didn't get round to taking any ourselves.
There was one designated photographer who was allowed to take photos during the Mass, and took some nice group shots afterwards, but we haven't received those yet.
The night before I finished reading the story of Blessed Imelda Lambertini to Colmcille.
She's the little patron of first communicants since she died in ectasy following her first communion.
When I got to that bit I did wonder if it was a slightly strange story to be reading a boy about to recieve the Blessed Sacrament for the first time.
But Colmcille didn't seem a bit bothered by young Imelda's demise at the tender age of eleven.
His eyes grew big and round and he gasped "She died of joy!"
Which was just the ticket and reassured me that my choice of story wasn't going to put a dampner on his big day and make him lose sleep worrying whether he might actually make it to his second Holy Communion.
Needless to say Colmcille did not die of joy himself,  but he was very emotional and had a little cry which then made Pat and I shed a litle tear too.

It was an emotional day for us also, because our beloved parish priest, Fr Alan, who is being treated for cancer, returned to say mass just for the occasion.
It was a momentous act of love, given his very frail state of health at the moment. He looked pale and tired. And yet, his preaching, although with a little less vigour, was every bit as stirring as ever. Without any rhetorical device or flourish, and just a quiet certitude he makes the Word come alive.
When he preaches I am reminded of the unwitting companions of Jesus on the road to Emmaus, who reflected that their hearts burned within them when the scriptures were explained.

Please, please pray for him.

Here is an excerpt from his letter to the parish in which he explains his current circumstances.

Now of course I have to practise what I preach! Yes, God speaks through events. So I hope I am hearing well everything he is saying to me through this unexpected illness.
And how often have I spoken about the cross!; saying that when it appears in our life, we should, like the crucified Christ, continue to call God Abba , Father. Now I hope this word will be fulfilled in me.
Early in 1999, when our former Archbishop, Cardinal Hume, was diagnosed with inoperable cancer, Pope John-Paul II wrote to tell him of his prayer and support. He told the Cardinal that his illness had been allowed by the Lord in his ‘ALL-SEEING PROVIDENCE’.
It is with trust in this ‘all-seeing providence’ that I want to live these days and face the future.
I really hesitated to write this about myself, knowing that some of you know more about suffering, pain and illness than I do. But still, I wanted to share it with you.
Meanwhile, you are being treated to a wonderful variety of priests celebrating Mass in Ogle Street. They will be rewarded.
I want to give a special word of thanks to Vincent Harrington, who in my absence has truly become our ‘Parish Administrator’. He will be rewarded too!
Dear Brothers and Sisters, again I thank you and continue to count on your prayer, love and support. I hope that in his ‘all-seeing providence’ the Lord will make it possible for me to return to the parish soon.

Dear Jesus, Divine Physician and Healer of the sick, we turn to you in this time of illness. O dearest comforter of the troubled, alleviate our worry and sorrow with your gentle love, and grant Fr Alan the grace and strength to accept this burden. Dear God, we place our worries in your hands. We place Fr Alan under your care and humbly ask that you restore your servant to health again. Above all, grant us the grace to acknowledge your will and know that whatever you do, you do for the love of us. Amen. 


St Charles Borromeo
St Therese of Liseux
St Jean Marie Vianney
St Peregrine
St Pio
St Philomena
Blessed John Paul II


Pray for him.

Story time with Grandad: Little red Riding Hood.

While my father was reading to the girls last week, I sneakily nipped into the utility room, fired up the mobile phone and took a video. I'm not usually very good at being on the spot with  technology to capture the moment when it presents itself. But I'm glad I managed to catch this for posterity.

I love hearing my father read stories, and it's adorable to see the girls enjoying it too. Funnily enough, I don't 'hear' his accent when I'm speaking to him, but I notice it on a recording. Don't know why that is.

( Memo to self: Pipe down when recording, ones voice is awfully loud and annoying)

Honors first haircut

Honor had her first haircut last week. 

 

Auntie Shirley is hairdresser by Royal appointment to all of us, and proper clever with the old shears.

Until a few years ago I used to take the children in to Carnaby St where she worked and get us all sharpened up and then we'd go off on a visit to a gallery somewhere. That was fun.

 But since Shirley had Riley four years ago, and then I had the girls, the getting there became hard work, and less fun.
So now we go round to Shirleys in the evening for our makeover instead.

 Colmcille was first up for the chop ( no pictures of him mid chop, but some after shots to follow)
which gave Honor enough time to settle and even feel slightly envious of the attention being given to his over grown barnet.
A little barnet envy was the aim at any rate. Three year olds are tricky and one has to be one step ahead of their trickiness if one hopes to secure their co operation.

So although Honors haircut was the Main Event, I affected cool disinterest in Honors hair, and oohed and aahed over Colmcilles while she sat on my lap and buried her head in my shoulder, all the while stealing glances at Colmcilles diminishing bush whenever she thought no one was looking .
If at this point I had told her how lovely it would be if she had her haircut too, or cajoled her to look at the lovely haircut Shirley was giving Colmcille,  and didn't she want one too?  all bets would have been off.
But like I said :taps nose: ...
one step ahead...

 Softly, softly catchee monkey...
By the time Colmcilles turn in the chair came to an end she was practically begging to be shorn.
She sat very still (mostly) and was pleased  to wear the crinkly adult sized gown which she kept fingering lovingly .

 When she had warmed up, Mark took these snaps of her. These last three, taken after the gown came off, are great.

 She completely lost her earlier self consciousness and was delighted with herself.

 Marie-Aibhlinn is still quite a long way off needing a haircut. I love nuzzling her little baby head.

 

 


She's almost walking and this is her favourite spot. Standing beside me holding on to my lap.
She's a little kitten.

 And while I don't have any "before" pictures of Colmcille, but he was starting to resemble cousin Itt

  This is a vast improvement.

I do not spurn modernity

You know you're getting a little old when you find yourself regularly announcing that technology is marvellous. But, well...isn't technology marvellous!

Husband dear has recently been issued with a i phone. He's not much of a gadget man at all and would be perfectly happy with an ancient old brick really, but one has to do ones best to keep up with the new fangled contraptions beloved of the moderns.

We like to adopt a lofty tone of detatchment from gadgets that borders on being a little sneery. But I'm making an exception for the i phone. I am not sneering at the i phone. The i phone is a decidedly useful little gadget that fits into the "Isn't technology marvellous" category.
Here's why:

Such cuteness!

This is Honor on her way to bed tonight posing for photos with Marie-Aibhlinn. The simplicity! No wires and USB cables to hunt down and fiddle with. Just emailed to me, and bingo! a bloggable photo sans faff!
I think this could catch on with me. There may be a little self indulgent cute photo posting going on around here in future.
Modernity, I embrace you! I kiss you on both cheeks. Mwah!

Eureka! (Finally)

I know, I know. Don't say anything, I feel bad.

Instead of blogging I've been spending a lot of time gazing mistily at this picture of sweetness...and wondering...what the heck her name is!!
Before she was born, we had names sorted, believe it or not.
A boy would have been Peter Patrick or Patrick Peter ( for my late uncle and of course my husband and all the multitudes of Paddys in our family)
For a girl, I was quite determined to call her Edith Benedicta Teresa, for St Teresa Benedicta of the cross
Edith Stein was beautiful and brilliant as well as saintly. And Jewish of course, which is almost as good as being Irish.

I'm really drawn to all the Teresa's. The three carmelite ones and Mother Teresa. So I kind of wanted to work something Teresian in there.
So at first she was Edith. But calling her Edith didn't work. It's rather Teutonic as names go. It doesn't seem to fit with our line up.
Then my uncle Seamus suggested Blathin. You have to hear it said, it sounds prettier than it looks. It means 'little flower' so that would have been a neat association with St Therese.
That was vetoed pretty quickly by the big fellas in the house who just didn't like it at all.

So then we spent a while calling her Marie-Clare. But that's the name of a magazine here, so after a few days she became Mary-Clare. ( She was born on the 13th October, a Fatima date, so we were had been thinking of working Mary or Lucia in there)

My husband had been tossing Aibhlinn around for a while, but I wasn't convinced. It was a name that we had considered before when we were expecting the twins. It's a soft, pretty name.
In Irish the 'bh ' is said as a 'v' ( like 'Siobhan') so the name is said 'Ave lin'.
It means 'longed for child' which is apposite. But I really wanted a saints name so that, like all the others, she could have a feast day. And there isn't a saint Aibhlinn ( or Evelyn which I think is the English equivalent).
Eventually we decided to give her a double barrelled first name and after calling her Mary-Aibhlinn for a bit, we finally settled on Marie-Aibhlinn ( the 'Marie' is said as 'marry' as in Marianne or Marie-louise)
We kept it quiet for a bit though, because having called her Edith and then Mary-Clare, it took a little adjustment to get used to calling her Marie-Aibhlinn.
I didn't want to post her name only to change it again.
So I just laid doggo for a bit while the name grew on me.
Now I just love it. Her name fits her in a way that the others didn't.

And in a fit of name greed, we gave her a double barreled second name too. After all, if long, impossible to remember names are good enough for the crowned heads of Europe, then they are good enough for Her Majesty the Baby.
So now she rejoices in being called Marie-Aibhlinn Teresa Benedicta.
But we'll probably be calling her some silly pet name or other eventually, we always do.

Goodness. I feel like I've blethered on far too long here about the name choosing process, but really, I never imagined it would take this long.
I'm sorry to have left you all in suspenders, but it was bad enough having to tell my parents a new name to call her every few days without having to re announce her name to blogsville too.

Now we have to go and register her.

And as a post script, and for no reason at all other than to please Honor who loves it when she sees photos of herself in one of her many hats ( she wears them indoors and sometimes more than two at a time) here is Honor in a hat:

7 Quick Takes

1

Having a multi generational family is the coolest thing ever. I hadn't anticipated this back when I started out having babies. I couldn't imagine having teenagers and babies. Well, I probably just couldn't imagine having teenagers!
Now I think the combination of teenagers and babies is utterly perfect. For parents, for the babies and for the teenagers. It's win win win.
Why?


Here's why:


2

It was Honors birthday on the 18th September.
Goodness me, time flies. How she has grown.



It was a bittersweet day however. I'm hoping that future birthdays won't be so laden with complex emotions as this one was.

I do think that being almost exactly as pregnant as I was when she was born, and Olivia died, has brought those memories into much sharper focus.
I Cried alot remembering the mixed emotions of this day:
And this:



And then I woke up at 3am with a cracking headache and a paralysing attack of night terrors that something would go wrong this time too.

There were very lovely moments too though. We are so grateful to have Honor, and I don't want her birthday to be overshadowed with loss. In reality, nothing is lost. There was no mistake.
With God, death is not a disaster. Olivia is gloriously alive.
But I miss her and sometimes I sigh and wonder, if she was here...
Most of the time though, I am busy enough living in the present moment.
And there is so much sweetness in that.





3

In my slightly crocked condition ( both emotionally and physically) it was probably very optimistic to imagine that I could turn out a fabulous blogworthy cake.
This was Honors birthday cakewreck:


It collapsed when I opened the oven too early and, well, it all went down hill from there.
My friend said that the collapse was so perfect that it made the cake look like a nest, so I threw some blueberries in there, and then squeezed some lurid pink icing around haphazardly, and then...actually then I started crying again.
Pregnancy hormones are potent and not to be trifled with.

4

Changing tempo...

A childrens 'hymn' to the President. Is this sweet, or is it creepy?



I have seen this on a few blogs lately ( Mama Says and MommyLife) and wanted to air it here. I found the almost verbatim lifting of some of the lyrics of that old childrens hymn 'Jesus Loves The Little Children' rather, um, 'icky'.

Compare:

"Jesus loves the little children

All the children of the world

Red and yellow

Black and white

They are precious in His sight."

With:
"He said red, yellow, black or white All are equal in his sight"

Depending on your perspective, I suppose this will either make you go "ahh" or "ew".

Come to think of it, I've never liked that old childrens hymn either.

But the slightly 'Obama Messiah' flavour of the lyrics reminded me of this:

Who buys this stuff?

5

And just to show how much more sage and deep our political take here in the UK is, here is Hip Hopper Dizzy Rascals thoughts on the election of TFBPOTUSA*.



(*The First Black President Of The USA)

6

Since I'm on a bit of a political roll , here's a video I saw on MommyLife that I wanted to show my children. It's a commentary on the 'branding' of the American President.



I found the observation about the ubiquitous 'O' really interesting. That 'O' is everywhere. Still. And it is, to me at least, somewhat redolent of those regimes whose objective is to imprint the lordship of the Dear Leader deep in the psyche of an acquiescent populace.

Personally, I was very enthusiastic about Obama when he first came to international attention as a contender for the US top slot.

That waned pretty quickly when I realised how manipulative the whole business of image making is. And the extent to which it seemed Obama had become a brand.


7


I feel we have been here before, to a lesser extent, with Tony Blairs administration which also sang the 'Hope and change' theme, but to the the of 'Things Can Only Get Better''.


Back then, it lifted my heart. These days, I'm a little more jaded.

( "Quick Takes" LOL! If you want actual Quick takes visit Conversion Diary)