Michelle - Mom of 9

I have a say. My birth mother was 19 and pregnant by man who had fathered another child and abandoned them. Because it was the mid 60’s, abortion was not legal, but it was readily available in the major city I was born in. But, due to her Catholic upbringing, she chose life for me.

I grew up and came back to my Catholic faith. God has blessed and entrusted me with a great bunch of children. I have been married nearly a quarter of a century to a solidly, good man.

Anita Thomer - "The Real Rebel"

I was an 80’s kid. A Doc Martens, Cold War, lots of eyeliner, “Tear down this wall!", New Wave, question authority, Vaclav Havel, trench coats, punk
rock kind of girl. Yeah, I’m Generation X. One of the survivors. And I have a say.

Mine was always the smallest class, youth group, choir, debate team, chess club, etc. in decades. No matter where I went I was either the youngest person there or the oldest. I searched for years for my generation. Where did they go? Oh. That’s right. They were contracepted or, failing that, killed before they could be born.

The few of us left fancied ourselves to be rebels. We just weren’t sure what we needed to be rebelling against.

You know what used to drive me crazy? The fact that all the ‘rebels’ wore the same leather jackets and listened to the same records. Me? I went to Mass on Sunday. My parents were the real rebels.

Over the last couple decades I have seen every subversive current - every subculture - bubble up to the surface to be repackaged, sterilized, and mainstreamed. They have all been effectively neutralized. All, that is, except one: The Catholic Church.

I have done the college thing. I have done the activism thing. I have done the career thing. I am not sheltered. I am not oppressed. I am no shrinking violet. I will not be sterilized. I will not be silenced. I am fully human. I am a wife and a mother. I am a woman. I am Catholic. I am a soldier of Christ in the Church Militant and I am a force to be reckoned with.

I’m still wearing my Doc Martens. I’m on my feet a lot taking care of our five kids (so far) and teaching them… at home. Take note, culture of death: I will share the truth with them. I will share the truth with every soul I encounter. I will be heard. I will continue to embrace life with both earth-shaking intensity and infectious joy. I will continue to shatter your illusions with the reality of my living example. I will counter your empty promises every time I hold my husband’s hand. And when the weary people approach - as they so often do - and say, “You two seem so happy together. What is your secret?” I will tell them.

Kathy Brents

I am grateful for the courage and sacrifice of my great-grandparents who came to this country from Poland in the early 1900s to escape religious persecution and an overbearing government to seek out and secure the blessings of liberty which are protected by the United States Constitution for their themselves and their future family. I am grateful that they were successful in this and became U.S. citizens so that I might have a say. I am grateful that they were open to life and welcomed 7 of the most amazing children into their family, who then proceeded to have dozens of children, who then proceeded to have dozens more (of which I am one), and we have continued the tradition, as have our children.

And since I do have a say, I say yes to life and no to the national disgrace of Planned Parenthood. I am a Catholic, a U.S. citizen and a woman. Cecile Richards and her supporters do not speak for me. Neither do Nancy Pelosi, Sandra Fluke, Kathleen Sebelius, or unfortunately my own President. I will fight for my rights (real rights, granted by God and stated in our Constitution), but what a sad turn of events that I have to. President Obama, you swore an oath to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, and I pray that God will open your eyes to the treacherous course you are putting our country on by not doing this. And if he does not, then I pray that he will at least open the eyes of the voters of America in November.

Amy Ivsan - 2 Kids, No Husband, Wrapped in Grace

I have a say because if any person should not have a say, due to disobedience and willfulness, it should be me; yet the merciful Lord fashioned me so I could one day say that I have a say.

Most importantly, my body has been a vehicle to bring two lives into the world so they could say that they have a say. One child I had before my Catholic conversion. The second child arrived years after my conversion. I have never been married. Needless to say neither of my children entered this world into an ideal situation, yet they were a part of God's perfect plan.

The first sentence in the first chapter of the late Dr. Scott Peck's book, The Road Less Traveled, is "Life is hard." His one sentence has truly characterized my existence, and particularly my conversion experience. I elected to enter the Church in my twenties, or should I say God handpicked me out of the mire of my own design, and told me to become Catholic? If I knew all I would have to endure, I probably wouldn't have had the courage to join the Church, but Grace has kept me going.

Conversion requires a cross.

Sanctification requires suffering.

Love IS sacrificial with a bitter sting.

And I suffer from what Archbishop Fulton Sheen calls staurosphobia. Fear of the cross.

My most recent cross and one of my mightier challenges involves the arrival of my son, Tereso Michael John Paul Bagley. He was born June 18th, 2010. When I was pregnant, his father was extradited to Texas facing a 25 year to life sentence. The thought of bringing another fatherless child into this world at my age was unpalatable, yet I embraced the privilege of life. Even though the father came back, we are now separated because he nearly strangled me unconsciousness and beat me very badly. I had a broken nose, black eye, concussion, and inner ear injury resulting in vertigo. My child was placed in foster care when he was nine months old, due to domestic violence and drug abuse on the part of the father. He beat me when I was pregnant, he beat me after the child was born, and on one occasion he had baby in one hand and hunting knife in the other, pressed to my back. I had no money, no family, no where to go, and a baby to protect.

Today I am free of this situation, I am working, I am getting a place soon, and my son back in three months. I live with no regrets and would go through it 100 times over, just to protect and bring his little life into being. I have a significantly older child, a teenager, whose father has never been in her life. Another drug addict. I guess you could say I have a heart for the heartless, and a love for the unlovable. I am not a holier than thou person. I do not even wish I could say I am married, homeschool, and make my own soap. That was never God's plan for my life. Yet part of His plan was to use me as a vehicle to bring two lives into this world. The special grace God afforded me with both pregnancies, is a deep-seeded, inexplicable, interior knowledge that life is majestic. Abortion is NEVER an option. He showed me how strong of a mother I was that I could even protect my son, in an impossible situation, and make painful decisions in his interest to guarantee his safety until I could.

Once a woman experiences a term of pregnancy and births a baby into being, you feel invincible, like you have a capability and strength to do anything. You are instilled instantaneously with nurturing love, and biological motherhood becomes expanded by the practice of spiritual motherhood. All people are God's children, and as a mother, they become our children in the maternal sense. Motherhood is the highest calling in my opinion, with graces to be experienced and delivered unlike any other vocation. We share in God's creative plan. It is too deep and extraordinary to put into feeble words. Two things I often reflect upon is, 'I can do all things in Him who strengthens me,' and, '...having done everything(humanly possible) stand firm with faith as your shield.'

As I have embraced motherhood within imperfect circumstances, I realize ever more strongly today all impediments and interference to God's action of creation and its ultimate consequence of the destruction of life is purely evil and satanic. I have never forgotten Fr. Corapi's strongest of words, "Never forget Satan wants your children dead in a garbage can!" And fifty million unborn American children to date, that we know of, are dead in the landscape of a satanic dump yet their most precious of souls are carved in the Palm of Crucified Christ. The slaughter of holy innocents has become the foundation of the demise of civilization, rapidly deteriorating, on the altar of satanic sacrifice. Cecile Richards is a voice and advocate for the devil's agenda. She does not represent or speak for the interest of women, but destroys their vocation and identity through her profession.

I have a say, and I have children who will one day have a say. As youths, their testimony lies in being. I have a say Cecile, and you are being warned, "Here comes the Catholic church." We are a force to be reckoned with because in the end we win. I have a say and it can be summed up in two words. Imago dei.

Visit Amy's Blog, "Sacred Heart of Jesus - You Got Me!" by clicking here

Emma Brockhaus

I am so grateful to my parents for choosing life for me and my siblings. I am the second oldest of six children whom my parents are currently homeschooling. Not only did they say yes to life, but they also said yes to Natural Family Planning. After using NFP for several years they prayerfully decided to become teaching couples. They have a beautiful testimony of the wonderful effects NFP has had on their marriage and life and wanted to share it with everyone. They have been teaching it for almost 15 years now. Every time I have to babysit my younger siblings while they do this I think of what a selfless thing they are doing. I am proud they chose life and I am proud they are teaching others how to do the same thing. I hope that I can be as wonderful of a role model to my children, to live out my say by being a testimony to God’s love for everyone. God gave us free will so that we could love completely and fully let us not abuse that gift. :)

Birgit Jones a "Catholic sista" has a say

I have a say because...

Sometime in the 70’s I found myself the recipient of unwanted advances by a neighborhood boy – I was barely 14 years old. Weeks later I would reluctantly tell my mother the facts of that encounter and she would surmise that my persistent bout of nausea wasn’t the flu after all. She would fall to the floor with the shock of it all and I would be forced to let go of the denial that had kept me halfway sane. The ensuing months were a blur and yet time stood still. My early high school career came to a screeching halt and was substituted with a ‘homebound’ teacher and an algebra tutor. Time, however, marched on and adjustments were made. This wasn’t an era of ‘baby mommas’ and ‘baby daddies’, this was a more sheltered time and after a while we began to attend Mass in a neighboring town.

Then early summer hit and with it ‘the time’. I remember the kind-faced nurse with the gold watch who held my hand – no visitors in the labor/delivery area were allowed then. She kept me somewhat calm by talking about mundane things – like my nice tan. The hours ticked by and the pain increased. There was a recurring little stream of tears at the corner of my eyes but I never called out. I just looked at that gold watch on the nurse’s arm.

Then there he was – a blue eyed bundle of around 7 pounds. They laid him in my lap and I timidly poked at him – counted the fingers and toes, because that’s what I’d heard you did, and then quickly bundled him up again. I felt more fear than joy – more spent than at peace. I don’t remember much more of the hospital stay but I do remember the early days of being back at home. My jeans fit again quickly and I hesitantly went outside for a walk on the sidewalk in front of our house. I looked ‘normal’ again but couldn’t quite get the idea of what had happened to make sense in my 14-year-old brain. The sun was still shining but somehow it didn’t sink its warmth into my skin.

Inside the house were my sisters and that little wooden cradle with ‘him’ in it. My parents had stepped up in support of us and decided to adopt the child and raise him as my brother. We were a family of firm Catholic faith and there could be no other option. They would add this child of mine to their brood even though my mother was 4 months pregnant at the time of his birth. He would soon have a little brother! The adoption papers were drawn up and there was no fuss or disagreement – after all I was still a minor. This plan was for the best – for all of us. Sacrifices were made in families every day – for the good of all – especially the smallest, weakest members. This was our Catholic faith in action!

The blue-eyed angel grew a full head of blonde hair and five months later his dark-eyed, black-haired ‘twin’ would become his sidekick. He always knew that I was ‘special’ and that he was adopted, even before he knew what that meant, because my parents wanted him to know the truth from the beginning. ‘The Boys’, as we called them, would grow up together as brothers with a bond that grew stronger and matured with adulthood. Our little family of 7 lived an idyllic life in our small town and acceptance was regained from most. The whispers would always be there but we all grew accustomed to them and we circled the wagons around our family and our Catholic faith...

To finish reading, visit Birgit's blog by clicking here

Larry Flurry

I have a say because I am the middle child of my blessed Mother who gave birth to twelve children. I am the middle child because my oldest brother died of SIDS at two months and I was never fortunate enough to meet him.

My story will be horrifying to liberals who believe that it is somebody else's responsibility to raise children when you are a poor woman who has 11 mouths to feed. We were not raised to depend upon anyone but each other, the older kids watched us when we were babies and my Mother would not accept any help from government or from the Catholic Church, in my youth the Church wanted a $2,000 investment for an annulment and my Mother said that she would pay as soon as one of us became a doctor or a lawyer and she never took Communion again. My Mother worked two jobs for 14 years to feed and clothe us and would not even discuss with the older kids any form of help from anyone. This is our family and we will get by with hard work and attention to our lessons and our Church. Our family was and still is a tight band of proto-typical Irish Roman Catholics who will argue and fuss amongst ourselves but any outward try at dividing us will make you wish you hadn't. We stand strong, together and unified against any outside influence. I learned to chop veggies at 6-7, simmer at ten and by twelve I was the only kid trusted to cook dinner. I would get home from school to a note of what had been defrosted and what I should make of it. Usually there was a recipe but somtimes my Mom just said surprise us with something good so at 45 now I am an excellent cook. I and my most excellent brothers and sisters have a say because our Mom said no to murdering one of us because she wasn't sure how we would be able to afford one more. She was a single parent because she chose husbands poorly but with the olders teaching the youngers we grew up just fine without a father type figure. She never left our Faith because she believed God in our lives was among the most important things she could pass on. I was an altar boy in St. Anthony's in Allston,Ma from around ten until I left for the Navy at 17. When MS took her mobility and she couldn't go to Mass anymore Father Harrington, Father Murphy or Father Calveccio brought Mass to her Sunday afternoons. We grew up just fine, poor but knowing GOD for our Mother wouldn't have it any other way. I'm sure it would've been much more convenient for her to have murdered several of us in her womb and had more to share with the lucky ones, but she didn't see her babies that way. We weren't inconvenient, we were blessings to her bestowed by a loving GOD. I/we have a say because I wore my brother's hand-me-down shoes with three pairs of socks because having me alive was worth more than new shoes for every kid every year. I have a say because I grew up strong and proud of my family and my faith because I lived with a great example of it. I have a say because I completely repudiate the notion that some politician can force me to pay for something I find reprehensible. I have a say because I'm alive today because my Mother 45 years ago figured I was a blessing and not a curse or a disease or inconvenience. I have a say because my Mother had her say 45 years ago. GOD bless her, you and our faith, we all have a say and we should stand together and say NO to this abominable section of the 2,500 page obamastrosity of a healthcare takeover. I have a say because I am, and will continue to be alive because my Mother had a say.