How About A Killing-Free Zone?

The Morgentaler abortuary in Fredericton now has new signs in its windows - "blame-free zone", "shame-free zone"... Well, how about a killing-free zone? They also have a sign by their front entrance, just 10-15 meters next to the one of the Mother and Child Welcome Center. In the best Orwellian traditions, the sign promotes "reproductive health" options, which actually mean no reproduction and no health. Their new signs have a flower motif, but those flowers and fancy colors can't change the self-evident fact: Only half the patients who enter an abortion clinic come out alive. Yesterday was no exception.

I've been to Fredericton before - at the Marches for Life, at the 40 Days vigil and at some other occasions as well, but never - on Tuesdays, when the abortuary is open and accepts patients. It's one thing to know that this is the place where babies die, but to see all those cars pulling into the parking lot, to see the poor women escorted into the abortuary - that's really disturbing... The location of the abortuary is quite symbolical. Not that far away from them there is a school and an old cemetery. A school or a cemetery - that's pretty much what the "choice" is all about. For one in four Canadian babies - it's the cemetery.

The patients kept coming. Often, it was possible to see the women's faces through the car window. Some - if not tearful, then biting back tears. It was such a relief to see one of those cars actually driving past the place - to the school parking lot. And it was so depressing to see them coming back a few minutes later when they apparently realized that they'd missed their destination. The car pulls into the fenced parking lot, the escorts wearing greenish-yellow vests surround the woman the moment she steps out of the vehicle and literally convoy her in, while their colleagues at the front entrance look around with a triumphant grin - too late now, eh? Sidewalk counselors have no chance here.

All we could do is to pray. That was probably the only thing that could keep me from just screaming "Stop! What in God's name are you doing?! It's a baby in there! A human being, for God's sake!..." How many Hail Marys could a man say in about two and a half hours, if he just keeps saying them practically non-stop? Would there be enough to honor each of the 300 or so Canadian babies that died in abortions that same day? I didn't count; I just kept saying them over and over, much to the amusement of the escorts across the street.

That day they were also joined by the Globe and Mail reporter who came all the way from Montreal to look into the New Brunswick abortion funding debate. Her colleague took a few minutes to take our pictures and to write down our names and, I heard that one of the protesters, Anita, who had the "I regret my abortions" sign, did get interviewed. But most of the time (some three hours or so,) they spent talking to the abortuary staff. (Well, what would you expect from the Globe?)

At one point, I could hear one of the escorts exclaiming "if this receives nationwide coverage..." What they consider to be worthy of nationwide coverage is of course not the fact that some 600 babies die in their abortuary every year, but that the government of New Brunswick refuses to pay for the slaughter with taxpayers' money.