by Lisa Bourne, Managing Editor
Pregnancy Help News

I was fortunate recently to catch Terrence Malick’s film, “A Hidden Life,” on an airplane during a trip taken as a belated celebration of my husband’s and my 25th wedding anniversary.

The film’s main character, Austrian farmer Franz Jägerstätter, refused to sign an oath to Hitler and fight for the Nazis during World War II because of his faith. He could have agreed to and (presumably) eventually returned to his wife and three daughters and their simple farm life.

But his conscience dictated his obedience to God over man, and he was executed.

His story was largely unknown until the mid-1960s. Jägerstätter was later declared a martyr and beatified by the Catholic Church. The film was beautiful, brutal and inspiring all at once. 

Among the many things it brought home for me was how each life is a story packed with importance and meaning, no matter what, even as most of those stories go largely untold.

My father passed away last Saturday, March 28, from complications of an apparent heart attack. He was 84. He’d been taken by ambulance to the hospital late Wednesday night, and received treatment for his heart, kidneys and more in the following days, but he became unresponsive midday on Friday. 

Because of the COVID-19 pandemic no one was allowed in to see him, not even a priest, until he was cleared from having the virus (he later was). 

The first chance I had after my dad had been hospitalized, I inquired with the hospital on the phone into whether he could be denied care amid the pandemic, his being 84, having a weakened heart and compromised lungs. The nurse was taken aback at the question, replying that things hadn’t come to that in Dubuque (Iowa). 

But what if they had? I’m sure there are many people across the world right now who never thought their parents would be in that situation. I remain confident that it would have been at least naïve not to ask.

I rushed with my brother through the several-hour drive to our hometown that Friday, praying we’d make it in time.

Because my father’s death was imminent, they began to allow us in, though only two at a time.

We took over for two of my sisters; my mother had gone home to rest.

My brother and I were blessed to stay overnight and keep watch. 

Over the course of the next 14 hours we were able to get numerous responses from my dad, I think because the morphine he’d initially been given had worn off. 

We were able to see, hear and say things that were an absolute blessing and a gift, for us and the entire family.

I video-called people who could not come, including his sister, the remaining sibling in his family of eight children. This also included my husband and kids - my eldest daughter and son-in-law with my three-month-old granddaughter, who my father had not yet met. 

We prayed the rosary, played some of his favorite music, and listened to Mass on my phone.

As I texted my siblings to let them know he could hear us and was responding, even saying things, my sister told me to let him know that all of the abortion facilities in Iowa had been closed, referencing the governor’s clarification earlier that day that surgical abortion procedures were included in the state’s suspension of non-essential medical procedures in response to the coronavirus. 

Though this was inexact and threatened lawsuits have since drawn out that some surgical abortions are still permitted in Iowa during the pandemic, nonetheless, in that moment it got a marked happy response from my father.

His nurse was nearby, saw this and laughed. I held his hand as I said, “They’re non-essential, Dad … but then, we knew that….” Another positive response. 

These responses were just part of the gift of those 14 overnight hours. 

I’m so grateful we were there, selfishly for us, but also for him.

I was exceedingly grateful as well to later learn that a priest had been able to anoint my father and he’d been given the full extent of the sacraments that he could have received in his condition. 

My dad passed his commitment to life on to me, along with his devout Catholic faith.

Just as with Malick and his film about Bl. Jägerstätter, I couldn’t possibly completely sum up my father’s life, let alone what it meant to me or countless others, nor will I, even after I may come to terms with his death. He was and is my dad. 

Our relationship hadn’t always been easy, in fact it was difficult for a time. And so, perhaps one of the greatest lessons he gave me was that life can be messy, but even so, it’s always a blessing, and beautiful – a gift from God. 

He taught me too that some, really most, of its greatest blessings and beauty are found in everyday life.

As the funeral home appointment approached on Sunday, I tried to wrap up my part in putting together the draft of his obituary before we would sit as a group and craft the final document. I was in my pajamas, the shower was running, and I had to keep running back to the keyboard as things came to me. 

As of this writing nearly a week later they’re still coming to me, and I hope they never stop.

So far, his death has punctuated the profound fact that  – whether healthy or ill, elderly or nascent when it ends, surrounded by loved ones or alone, ended by the hand of God or that of man  – every single life is precious to God.

There are no hidden lives. They may be hidden to us, but not to Him.

In your charity please pray for the repose of the soul of Charles Theodore, and for comfort for his family. Knowing my dad, he’d want you to pray unceasingly for the unborn, and all human life, as well.

by Ellen Foell, Esq., International Program Specialist
Heartbeat International

Like most of the world right now, I am online much more than ever before. I recently came across the following:

فارسی (Farsi)

نقش خودتان را ایفا کنید : کووید-19

Français (French)

COVID-19: Recommandations de la Santé Publique

日本語 (Japanese)

新型コロナウイルス感染症に備える：COVID-19

Kajin Majōl (Marshallese)

MELELE KO KINCORONAVIRUS

ကညီကျိ (Karen)

CORONAVIRUS (ခိၣ်ရိၣ်နၣ်ဘဲရၢး) အဂ့ၢ်အကျိၤ

by Mary Peterson, Housing Specialist
Heartbeat International

Shortly after my brother died, my sister and I went on an adventure in Belize to experience an epic sunrise in his honor.  That's how I found myself in the early morning pitch dark of the rainforest, situated high on an ancient ruin, listening to the nerving sounds of animals crying out.  Above the unfamiliar sounds of monkeys and such, the call of a bird rang out, a "blackbird singing in the dead of night."  And, from the depths of my memory a Scripture appeared, "My soul waits for the Lord more than watchman for daybreak." (Psalm 130:6)  The moment pierced me.  It was a dark and confusing season; I was being invited to hopeful anticipation.

I can get myself good and worked up, just like the next person.  Get me going in the "what ifs" and I start doing mental gymnastics.  To survive my years of maternity housing leadership, I was forced to learn the lesson:  Don't pre-worry!  Just deal with what's before you!  And, Scripture backs it up: "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own" (Matthew 6:34). This hard-won lesson was an anchor in leading my organization and for me, it is a tether in this uncertain season.  

Self-care teaches us to do the things that soothe our spirit.  Fo me, I go for a walk, put on some Taize music, or fidget with a game on my phone.  I'm practicing the art of mental distraction:  not following thoughts into dark rabbit holes of worry!  Our faith calls us higher - literally, to direct our attention to things above.    

We are living in the confusion of Good Friday -- trying to make sense of the events unfolding, feeling a bit unsafe and scared, tempted to deny Gospel truth to protect ourselves.  But Easter daybreak is coming.  It is promised and it will arrive.  Until then, we sit in hopeful anticipation.  We long and we wait.  Maranatha!

After her marriage ended and she became pregnant from another relationship which did not last, Ashley sought an abortion. With two young children at home, she thought a new baby was the last thing she needed. Though never an abortion supporter, she felt justified because of her situation. Immediately after taking the first abortion pill, her maternal instinct to protect her baby set in, and she was hit with regret.

Ashley ran from the abortion facility crying. She searched the internet and fortunately found Heartbeat’s Abortion Pill Rescue Network. Roughly 12 hours after she had taken the first pill to begin a chemical abortion, she was evaluated at a family practice office, started the reversal protocol, and found hope!

Gavin was saved from abortion and he just celebrated his second birthday!

Because of Heartbeat’s Abortion Pill Rescue Network, not only does Ashley have “the cutest little boy,” she was set on a new life path. She remarried last year, returned to nursing school, and is set to complete her studies in May 2020. Ashley now looks forward to raising awareness about the Network so that she can help save lives as well!

Find out more about the Abortion Pill Rescue Network here!

Shashana, already a single mom, became pregnant. The man she was dating didn't want to have any more children and pushed her to have an abortion. Knowing the father would not be around, Shashana gave in, visiting Planned Parenthood and taking the first abortion pill.

After she took the first pill, she sobbed. Regretting her decision, she called the Planned Parenthood clinic for help, but they told her nothing could be done and she needed to take the second pill.

Determined for a solution, she read online that reversing the abortion pill was possible! After calling Heartbeat’s Abortion Pill Rescue Network, she was connected with a pregnancy help center. Shashana then met with a doctor in the community and began the reversal protocol.

That was in 2015. Thanks to her diligence, the pregnancy center, and the Abortion Pill Rescue Network, Shashana now has a happy, healthy son named Attikus, a strong relationship with her mother, and works as a nanny which allows her to take her children to work.

Find out more about the Abortion Pill Rescue Network here!

by Tony Gruber, Controller
Heartbeat International

The coronavirus is perceived by many as the largest challenge our world has faced in many decades. In answer to that challenge, the United States has enacted the largest aid package in the history of the country – with a $2.2 trillion estimated price tag. Help and aid is being offered to individuals, businesses and non-profits.

We’re going to unpack many of these benefits in a webinar next Tuesday. However, we’d like to quickly highlight one opportunity because it won’t last long!

by Jor-El Godsey, LAS, President
Heartbeat International

“Stay on target!” is a familiar line from the first Star Wars movie. The small band of intrepid rebels were being exhorted to keep focused on defeating the planet-killing Death Star. All while being attacked by Darth Vader and his Imperial cohorts.

During “normal” times the mission of pregnancy help is facing a Goliath-like giant in Big Abortion and its flagship, Planned Parenthood. Of course, these days impacted by COVID-19 (or at least the anxiety surrounding it) are far from normal. There is a very present need to reach and rescue as many lives as possible.

Servants of Excellence

I thank God, whom I serve with a clear conscience the way my forefathers did, as I constantly remember you in my prayers, night and day. Longing to see you, even as I recall your tears, that I may be filled with joy.
-- 2 Timothy 1:3-4

Suddenly the new phrase, “Social Distancing” is an integral part of our culture’s vocabulary, thanks to a pandemic none of us expected.

In a recent Heartbeat International staff meeting however, our staff was considering another way of thinking about this new catchphrase. Instead of saying, “social distancing,” we’re inviting ourselves to say, “Physical distancing and social connecting.”

by Kirk Walden, Advancement Specialist

In journalism, reporters are taught, “Never bury the lede,” a reminder to focus first on the most important aspects of the story (defined as “the lede”) instead of spending several opening paragraphs on less vital details.

During this emergency, many pregnancy help organizations must close the doors of our offices. This is disappointing news, but this is not the “lede” to our story, for two reasons:

First, closing our offices is not news, because businesses everywhere are doing the same. Announcing to our supporters, “We’ve closed our offices for the foreseeable future” is, in journalistic terms, a “Dog Bites Man” story. There’s nothing “new” in our “news.”