The articles and blog posts leading up to the 40th commemoration of the single greatest American tragedy all tell a similar story. The thread that runs common through all the stories is the unimaginable numbers. And the numbers drive the narrative of a nation painfully realizing that there are now fifty-five million children, who have been poisoned, dismembered, shredded and suffocated by abortionists who were given the right to do so by judicial fiat.
Much, and rightly so, is also being written about the walking wounded – the tens of million of women who have been physically and psychologically injured by abortion – some tragically suffering irreparable harm. Their struggle to cope as they come to terms with their abortion experience must be documented and repeated so that others can avoid the loss and pain.
Everyday more the collective mindset of “rights” gains ground in this country. We see sophisticated advertisements on all media for a myriad of issues – from animal rights to gay rights, from the right to bear arms to women’s reproductive rights. It’s the catchiest of all catch phrases – our rights.
Forty years ago, however, the Supreme Court opined that men have zero reproductive rights – none what so ever. Because of Roe v Wade a man in these United States has no say as to when he can be a father. He can’t decided how many children he will have nor how to space them out. He is even powerless to defend the life of the child he has already conceived.
I met Julio at an awards banquet given at the end of a fishing tournament four years ago. I sat with him, his wife and two of their three kids. During dinner we found out that I was born in the same Cuban village as his parents were. We’ve become friends and because he’s a great fishing captain I now go out on his boat two or three times a year. We stay in-touch using social media and because of my numerous postings he knows quite clearly how I fight to end abortion.
After these most recent and apocalyptic elections, I spent 6 weeks in the Florida Keys licking my wounds. Part of my healing process was to fish and of course I turned to my buddy Julio to take me night fishing in the Florida Straits. We finally squared our schedules and we went out in early December – but Julio was off his game and a usually eager fisherman just didn’t feel much like fishing. We headed in relatively quickly and over a couple of beers he told me his story.
Twenty-three years before he’d been engaged for a few months to a young woman he’d dated for a couple of years. They had yet to set a wedding date when she told him that she was pregnant. Julio wanted to marry immediately and was thrilled at the thought of being a Dad. But the young woman had other plans; within a month she’d broken off the engagement and had gotten an abortion without telling him beforehand.
That night, out on the water, he’d been thinking about his aborted child who would have been born during the first week of December. This big heavily built, robust fisherman looks up at me with tears welling in his eyes and says, “He’d be turning 23 years old this week.” Nothing I said comforted him.
The fact that even if Julio had had the wherewithal 23 years ago to call someone for legal help, he wouldn’t have gotten any. There is no injunction, no legal recourse, nothing that he could have tried to save his child’s life.
In a day in age when every special interest group clamors for distinction on the rights totem pole, fathers remain at the bottom of the heap. For 40 years we have not had a say. For 40 years our reproductive rights have been denied. For 40 years we’ve been helpless, as we’ve been forced to stand by and watch our children taken to the slaughter.
The tragedy that is Roe v Wade must end because there must be no more dead children, or injured mothers, or fatherhood denied. Enough.
LifeNews.com Note: Raimundo Rojas is the director of Hispanic outreach for the National Right to Life Committee. He is a former president of Florida Right to Life and has presented the pro-life message to millions in Spanish-language media outlets. He represents NRLC at the United Nations as an NGO. Rojas was born in Santiago de las Vegas, Havana, Cuba and he and his family escaped to the United States in 1968.