By Monica Migliorino Miller Ph.D.
each day, hundreds of thousands of children—fragile, blameless, alone—are deserted. they're brutally snuffed from the realm and actually left within the trash . . . and it is all criminal. deserted: The Untold tales of the Abortion Wars is the tale of these kids deserted by means of abortion, and it's the tale in their brave defenders.
when you consider that 1976, Monica Miller has made it her life's paintings to safeguard the unborn: she has recommended pregnant girls outdoor abortion clinics and arranged pro-life teams and sit-ins at lots of those self same clinics. She has blocked abortionists autos, been arrested, and long past to penitentiary. and he or she has pulled the our bodies of hundreds of thousands of unborn infants out of dumpsters and given them a formal burial.
Abandoned: The Untold tales of the Abortion Wars is the profound, breathtaking, and infrequently bold trip of 1 girl, however it is way greater than that. it's a heritage of the Pro-Life circulate seeing that Roe vs. Wade, a suspenseful, true-life story of lifestyles and dying, an insightful look at the original and bad horror of abortion, and a plea for the security of the main helpless and blameless participants of the human family.
Read Online or Download Abandoned: The Untold Story of the Abortion Wars PDF
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Extra info for Abandoned: The Untold Story of the Abortion Wars
I became good friends with Shirley. She gave me a number of books about abortion and I embarked on a very different program of education. I was particularly influenced by Abortion and Social Justice edited by Thomas Hilgers and Dennis Horan, first published in 1972, a year prior to the Supreme Court’s Roe v. Wade decision, which, on January 22, 1973, legalized abortion on demand in the United States. This book peeled away the veil of the womb and introduced me to the hidden world of the unborn child.
I rested it on the loading dock and opened it. The top of the bag was stuffed with bloody surgical paper, and underneath was a small, heavy cardboard box, about the size of two shoe boxes, sealed in duct tape. I pulled the box out, carefully cradling it in my arms, and placed it in the backseat of one of the cars. We returned the rest of the bags to the dumpster to look as though nothing had been disturbed. As we pulled out of the alley, rats again darted in front of our headlights. One scampered across the top of a dumpster as our car made its way down the wet and oily path and out into the street.
I kept boxes of aborted children, draped with a rosary, in my closet. Edmund and I spent hours painstakingly photographing the tiny, broken corpses. We rented equipment and set up a makeshift photography studio, sometimes in his apartment, sometimes in mine. We knew this was a rare opportunity. We had the remains of the aborted unborn in our own hands and felt it was vital to make a record of legalized abortion. My mind became forever etched with the memory of hundreds of dismembered, broken bodies—their blood, intestines, and torn skin.