I Had to Bite My Tongue (Or Maybe My Fingers) Not to Point Out the Inconsistency...

Over at Pandagon, Auguste has a nice post on the miracle that was his son's birth six years ago. The story contains equal parts doctor/medical community incompetence and divine intervention (regardless of Auguste's beliefs). Following the post were a hefty number of comments about other people's personal miracles of birth.

It is said that child birth is every woman's own war story and I believe it. There's nothing a woman will do that equals it in either magnitude, personal pain and sweat, or life-changing quality (sorry to all the feminists out there).

I'm lucky enough to have three such stories, each distinct and awesome in its own way. I love telling my children the stories of their births because I think it's a wonderful way to bind our hearts together over and over again, like reinforcing a button by sewing in the same spot repeatedly. And even when my stubborn teenager is busy insulting me ("You don't care!"), it is a great comfort to know that my sacrifices for her sake will eventually outweigh any of this pain.

I couldn't help, however, noticing that Auguste and every commenter is pro-abortion. Yet they considered their wanted children's births to be heroic and worthwhile. It's a pity they don't consider the births of all children to have the same value.